#Spookiest Holiday

[ravensvalley]

Happy Halloween Season Folks !

#HalloweenStory

What about Extraordinary Abilities?

You know that there are people who have extraordinary abilities. By this, I mean things most average everyday people can do. Natural Telekinesis, Pyrokinesis, extreme Clairvoyance, the ability to put thoughts in the minds of others, the ability to affect sensitive electrical equipment like computers, televisions and more. These gifts can also result from power meditations.

I happen to know someone in the community with great skills who’s able to absorb extreme heat like super hot shower, get burned but barely feel the pain, handle hot food and can also barely taste any hot spices. While another one, also around here, has ES (Electrosensitivity). Intolerance to Electro-magnetic radiation like cellphones, wifi, bluetooth, power lines etc… Last week she went to Costco for some shopping and not more than 10 minutes after being inside she blackout and her nose was bleeding. The radiation was to high for her due to the electromagnetic fields.

If you think that you have these kind of abilities, keep them to yourself. The World powers Agencies have programs where they use people with these abilities. You can be a public serious threat to the Power Agencies because they can loose control over you. Gifted people are able to sense others with the same abilities; you know what I am saying. People with the same ability then you, can also sense that you’re one. You are now aware of each other.

This is because you both have an open energy field. You must program your aura (which is usually very large) to go about undetected if you wish to maintain your privacy. You can also program your aura not to affect electrical equipment unless you intend it to do so.  The same goes for thoughts reading. You program your aura so others cannot pick up on your thoughts. Of course, one with a much stronger energy field can overpower someone who is weaker.

The World Powers Agencies “to not named any” have programs where they employ Psychics. These people do not have freedom. They are used and many times ‘redrum’ when they no longer serve a useful purpose to their employers. For those of you with exceptional abilities “you know who you are” I strongly encourage you to dedicate your abilities to your guardian Spirit in a ritual to protect you and guide you. This can be a lonely road as others freak are shocked and/or become frightened.

Remember this; when others know your secrets, they have power over you. So keep your secrets and you’ll never have to worry about. Don’t ever brag or show off. You can come to the attention of the wrong people.

Happy Halloween Season Folks !

[solar-halos]

trick or treat!

🕸️ hi, thank you for the ask!! 🕸️

i tried looking for some everlark themed spookiness but admittedly i don’t write for them very often but i do have a fic from this collection that has major holiday vibes! lets just pretend that the cupcakes katniss was baking were halloween themed haha

with all that being said, here’s an excerpt:

Before she knows it, she’s bundled up in his arms and being hauled away from the scene of the crime.

“But Peeta—” She cuts herself off. She was not telling him that those cupcakes were supposed to be for him. He’d probably think she was insulting him.

Also, her heart might really be too big for her chest. She can feel it beating against her skin as Peeta carefully sets her outside, the fresh, cold air replacing the burning in her nostrils.

[flower-dagger-gay]

There needs to be more things for introverted adults to do for Halloween. Does anyone have an suggestions?

[wandasaura]

GODDAMN BLAZE IN THE DARK

summary — when the ultimate arises of being allowed to orgasm or being allowed to relieve your bladder, the only thing you can do is hope to god that you can be the good girl she expects you to be

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, alcohol consumption, piss kink, holding/control kink, fingering, teasing, begging, orgasm delay, degradation, praise kink, eventual orgasm, condescending tones/elements, domestic banter, men/minors dni

kinktober

The weather was finally beginning to turn as October earned its keep in the festive beach town you resided within the borders of, no longer blisteringly hot, but rather soft and quaint as a breeze ruffled leaves and blew discarded litter down the streets of Westview. The aesthetic of the world had begun to shift with the incoming breeze of cool air as well, replacing vibrant pinks and muted blues with burnt orange shades and deep charcoal hues. Wanda herself had fallen into the fall frenzy, adding decorative pillows to the couch and styrofoam pumpkins to the mantle despite her mentality that decorating for single day holidays was pointless and a waste of hard earned money. You knew she adored the whimsical magic of Halloween, even if she rolled her eyes each time you suggested watching a film inspired by the spookiest month of the year. That’s just how she was. Pointedly difficult merely to get a rise out of you, and it worked each time you begged to watch Hocus Pocus only to receive an eye roll and an exaggerated huff of faux exasperation. She always caved, always cuddled up on the couch or in bed, but it was never easy to get her there, nor was it easy to keep her interest as her hands began to wander down your tantalizing body and mark its claim on your most sensitive areas. 

Tonight, as you cuddled up close, beneath a thin throw blanket printed with jack-o-lanterns and the silhouettes of cartoon bats, it had been painfully easy. She hadn’t protested when you suggested a movie night, hadn’t rolled her eyes when you turned on a film from your childhood that was admittedly horrible at best and downright insulting at worst, and she hadn’t even huffed in overdramatic defeat when you’d turned the subtitles on because that made any viewing experience ten times better. In fact, she’d been nothing but pleasant and willing. She’d collected your drinks from the kitchen, gathered your chosen snacks from the pantry, and lit a candle on the coffee table that had the entire house smelling like sweet notes of subtle maple and addictive vanilla. 

Cautiously, you peaked over your shoulder at her side profile illuminated by flickering auburn light from the three wick candle providing a gentle ambience of mood lighting around you, the dancing flame with the slightest twinges of blue and yellow embedded within its fiery existence reflected off of her emerald stare so peacefully that you nearly accepted the gentle nature of the night ahead of you without question, but you knew better. You’d been with Wanda for years, seen her through some of the most trying and difficult periods of her life, and subsequently some of the best and softest. You knew that whenever something was easy with her, then there was something else up her sleeve just waiting to be pulled. She kept things interesting, always had and always would, but you’d become rather perceptive to her motives after such a long game of cat and mouse. 

She had you pinned against her chest as you lounged on the couch she’d affectionately decorated with throw blankets and decorative pillows, one arm looped around your waist while the other held onto her glass of chilled white wine, the stem carefully weaved between her fingers in intricate delicacy that you hadn’t quite mastered no matter the years you spent attempting to copy her mannerisms. She dripped with class and exquisite wealth, despite being brought up in a country suffering with poverty. There was an intoxicating energy to her, one that compelled even her most passionate haters to surrender to her spell and seek to know her personally. You’d never quite gotten over that alluring charm about her, but she’d made it painfully obvious that you were the only one she wanted to bring home and into bed each time you left the house, so you didn’t dwell much on the simple fact that Wanda Maximoff could have any man or woman she desired without so much as lifting a finger to flirtatiously wave. 

As you reached for your glass of wine that had been thoughtlessly left abandoned on the coffee table besides the slowly burning candle, her arm pressed against your bladder just enough to make an uncomfortable feeling travel through your nerves. Willing to ignore it for a while longer, not wanting to leave her soothing company or risk your film being turning off due to her unrelenting boredom, you stayed against her chest, now gripping your own glass with delicacy, although you didn’t quite have the placement of your fingers right enough to have replicated her eloquence. You’d thought that Wanda was unaware of your subtle wince, however, she’d so easily detected the shift in your body language and the way you maneuvered within her hold to alleviate some of the pressure she was intentionally pressing into your bladder. 

When her hand fell to your thigh, her wine glass set to the side as she had only a couple of sips left and didn’t particularly enjoy being drunk without your lighthearted energy to match her pace, you shivered with anticipation, knowing all too well where her soft touch would lead if you played your cards right. Well, you had thought you knew all the moves she was going to make, but when she dug her fingertips into the crevice of your thigh without warning or prior teasing, tickling the sensitive skin that she knew was a no-go zone on your best day, let alone your worst, you truly began to realize what you were in for. A soft whine slipped off of your lips as you wriggled against her, but all she did was tighten her hold on you and coax your whines with sweet kisses against the shell of your ear, her fingers still teasing and tickling your sensitive skin with passion. 

“Wanda.” You gasped when one hand splayed firmly against your sensitive belly, and the other moved beneath your soft gingham print sleep shorts to cup your core beneath the frilly underwear you’d picked out that morning. Your attire was nothing special, nothing sexy nor new, but that’s what Wanda preferred. There were times when lingerie worked, where it brought a level of excitement and newness to your already exhilarating sexcapades, but Wanda was sweet, she preferred you as you were, with no reason to constantly be trying to change your comfortability and appearance. Her boldness had always been a turn on, and as you sat trapped between her chest and her possessive arms, you felt merely like a toy at her disposal. 

“What’s wrong, my angel?” She cooed against your earlobe, teeth taking claim over that sensitive inch of skin that always provoked your desire to rise to uncontrollable levels. She knows what’s wrong though, it’s not the first time you’ve walked into this trap, but it’s been months since she’s laid it out, months since she’s been so cruel and condescending that you don’t know whether to plead for leniency or for her fingers to claim the sweetest softest spaces of your intimacy. “Hm, be a good girl and tell me.”

“I have to pee.” The words burned your pride as they slipped into the air, your cheeks twinging a flush shade of pink more aligned for the pallet of summertime than fresh autumn. You wriggled in her grasp, attempting to set yourself free, but all you accomplished was adding more pressure against your already sensitive bladder, intensifying the sensation of urgency within your nerves. “Wands, I have to pee.” 

Your desperation did nothing to quell her cruelty, rather it feebly landed in the near silent room apart from the voices slipping out of the speakers in the ceiling. “Well that’s too bad, sweetheart. I like having you here. Surely you can wait a little while longer, can’t you? I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” 

Her fingers slid through your folds, collecting warm, sticky arousal that pooled at your entrance. You whimpered in need, desperate need that turned your nerves cold with pleasure but warmed your skin deliciously to the touch. You writhed in her lap, torn between staying still, ignoring the pressure being applied to your belly, and squirming against her hold until you could sink onto those tantalizing digits and claim your pleasure. You didn’t have the luxury of choosing, she was already deciding your fate before you could strategize a game plan to secure dominance. You never won when you attempted to overpower her, but it was fun to have those unrefined moments of vicious pleasure while they lasted. 

You gasped a broken whine of pleasure when her fingers dug themselves into your core with one finite movement, buried to the hilt if the chill of her rings laying heavily against your pulsating clit pebbled with anticipation was any indication. The pads of her fingers pressed against the softest section of your walls, sparkling sharp sparks of pleasure to shoot up your spine and reverberate off the lining of your sensitive bladder. You gasped again, a breathy, whiney sound that was entirely pathetic but lewdly sweet, as Wanda prodded and pressed against that spongy spot continuously, her fingers curling and scissoring apart within your slick velvety walls. 

You writhed in intense pleasure, squirming against her tight, near clinical hold as she kept you confined and at her mercy, only able to take whatever she gave you when she felt like it. The sensations sparking to life in your bladder and core were unimaginable fireworks of pleasure that drowned you in their intensity, covering you in pleasure derived from her; her touch, her words, her eloquently dominant energy. She covered you in her effortlessly, and you surrendered to the flames of passion without hesitation. 

“I can’t hold it! I can’t hold it! Wanda! I have to pee! Please let me cum!” As torn as your body was between remaining still and writhing in passionate movements, your mind was an even playing field of indecision. You had to pee, that was undeniable, it was steadily beneath the surface of pleasure, tethered to your orgasm in a terrifying way, but you need to cum, as her fingers scissors your pussy apart, massaged that spongy area within your walls, as her rings nudged and thumped against your clit, you were being driven closer and closer to that beautiful edge of vulnerability and pleasure. 

“One or the other.” Wanda’s voice was level, calculated. She wasn’t bothered by your desperation, nor was she feeling generous. Your bones grew cold with anticipation as you shook your head, but it did nothing to win you sympathy. Her fingers that had already been hammering into you at an unforgiving pace took an even harsher approach, and the squelching sounds of pleasure and arousal filled the room and joined the existing symphony of a crackling flame and animated characters. “You can either cum on my fingers like a good girl, or you can go pee and not receive anything. And, I know this slutty cunt never misses an opportunity to cum, so stop acting like you can’t handle what I decide to do to your body, and sit still.” 

Your body couldn’t help but oblige by her demand, and with muffled whimpers, your body stopped fighting against her hold. She laughed tauntingly, pressing harder against your bladder. You knew the moment you leaked even the slightest bit against her fingers, her touch would be withdrawn, whether you were in the middle of a blissful orgasm or just on the cusp of falling over the edge. She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t show you even the slightest bit of moisture. She had made her ultimatum clear, there would be nothing that could change that. 

“I’m close! I’m close!” As your orgasm built, so did that pressure in your bladder that was slowly becoming unbearable. You could only will your body to allow you control, but before you could slip off the edge, fall into a sea of butterflies and pleasure, her fingers were slowing down, her palm pressing harder against your bladder in return for the loss of pleasure. 

“Hold it.” She demanded cruelly, voice level and dominating, only luring you further beneath her captivating spell that had you submitting unregretfully. You did as best as you could, your eyes pinched shut as you fought to fight off your orgasm, but eventually it all caught up to you, and your mindless babbling became indistinguishable pleas and desperate begging. “So pretty when you squirm for me.” 

“I-I can’t! Please! Please! I need to cum! I need to pee! Let me cum! Please, Wanda! Please!” Finally forcing the words off of your tongue, you only hoped they were enough to convince her to be kind. Minutes passed until they became a blur of sensations that ripped you apart from the inside, and when you thought you were going to break, just as you were on the cusp of deteriorating, everything started up again and instead of being denied, instead of loitering on the edge of bliss, Wanda granted you permission. You came with a high pitched moan, squirming and writhing against her hold and the second she worked you down from that blissful edge, you were bolting toward the bathroom, followed by her footsteps and taunting laughter. “Three glasses of wine and you decide to pull this shit! Wanda, I am going to kill you one day!” 

“That’s how you repay someone who just gave you the best orgasm of your life?! You threaten them?!” Wanda laughed menacingly, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as she watched you attempt to relieve your bladder, although that was slightly difficult in your post-orgasm state, which only made your frustration double. 

“Second best! Nothing will beat last Christmas.” You threw her a nasty glare, finally able to pee as your muscles began to loosen and return to normal, although every nerve in your body was still alight with blissful pleasure. 

“You’re only making me want to compete with myself here, darling.” She smirked, licking her fingers clean of your arousal in a tantalizing power move that had your cheeks flushing but your eyes rolling. 

“You’re impossible.”

[motorsport-halloween]

MOTORSPORT HALLOWEEN FEST

👻 Celebrate the best (spookiest scariest sluttiest) holiday of the year — open to all motorsport RPF writers, artists, creators, and fans!

👹 ao3 collection

💀 join the discord

⬇️ INFO & FAQ

What kind of creative/artistic works are allowed?

Any and all! Fic, art, zines, moodboards, gifs, edits, playlists, meta — if it’s motorsport RPF and Halloween-themed, it’s welcome!

What counts as motorsport?

If one of your main characters can be tagged under a motorsport fandom (e.g. any of the Formulas, IndyCar, MotoGP, etc.), you’re good!

What counts as Halloween-related?

Halloween-related can mean full-blown horror (serial killer in the paddock!), spooky (haunted car?), or, if that’s not your vibe, about Halloween more generally (Halloween is the one day a year when a driver can dress up like a total slut 😏). We’re happy to have you whether you turn your favorite driver into a friendly ghost or put them in a Saw trap.

Please just be sure to warn/tag your work appropriately, and please archive lock your fic if you're posting to Ao3!

Do I have to post to Ao3?

No! If you’d prefer, you can also post on tumblr. Just be sure to tag us @motorsport-halloween so we don’t miss it!

How do prompts work?

Anyone can leave a prompt on Ao3, but you don’t have to claim a prompt to participate — you can do your own thing and then post to the Ao3 collection or to tumblr when it’s time!

When is my fic/art/other work due?

Sign-ups and prompting will open July 15 so everyone has plenty of time to create! Completed works will be posted October 15-31 — the mods will reach out to participants at the beginning of October to schedule posting, so that we can have two full Halloweeks of fun!

How do I post to the collection?

Instructions are here!

Can I invite my friend / mutual / discord server to participate?

Please feel free to invite anyone in the motorsport RPF fandom (as long as they are 18+!)

What if I realize I can’t finish/need more time?

That’s fine! No worries if you need to drop out or need an extension.

What if I’m still confused?

Send us an ask on tumblr @motorsport-halloween or DM one of the mods, @powerful-owl @racecrafting or @officialmood!

OTHER TIPS

The @motorsport-halloween tumblr will be posting prompts and Halloween vibes for inspiration! We won’t be posting anything wildly disturbing, but we will use the following tags to be on the safe side: tw: blood tw: body horror tw: trypophobia

If there’s something else you’d like us to tag (within reason) please send us an ask or DM one of the mods! We want everyone to be able to participate, no matter your comfort level with the more horror-y aspects of Halloween!

The Ao3 HTML script can be found here

If you’re posting to Ao3, make sure you change the date from the date of your draft to the date of publishing!

[strawbeerossi]

All Hallows Eve

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan x Luke Alvez

Description: You and your three very attractive coworkers get to talking about sex and kinks whenever you are left alone at David’s Halloween party.

Content/Warnings: Alcohol mention/consumption, kink discussion, just a pinch of peer pressure when it comes to Spencer opening up, some germaphobic mentions, MMMF foursome, oral (f + m rec), face fucking, anal fingering (f rec) , double penetration, cum play (various types including: creampie and cum swapping), unprotected sex, some nice Spencer aftercare.

Word Count: 5.6K

Kinktober Day Thirty One: Foursome

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

This one is fucking filthy. Thank you all for coming on this Kinktober adventure with me!

Halloween parties were typically held at Dave’s house. It just made sense considering how big the place was and the amount of space he had not only in the house but also in the backyard. Besides, David Rossi would never turn down hosting a party at his place. He enjoyed throwing any kind of event right in his own backyard. That also meant a few extra guest rooms for the wasted adults that would be at said event.

It was Halloween night, everyone gathered at their coworker’s house and settled in the backyard, enjoying the heat of a fire that the guys had all set up. JJ and Matt were absent, spending the night at home with their children to celebrate the spookiest holiday of the year. Drinks were flowing, Spencer even partaking in just one drink for the night as opposed to his normal sober status, allowing himself to join in the festivity that he was normally left out of. However, he could argue that he liked being sober on nights like this. There was always something comical about someone in the team getting inebriated to the point that they act like an absolute menace to society.

Thankfully, tonight wasn’t too bad. Despite Emily and Penelope indulging in the liquor that their host never seemed to run out of. It had gotten to a point later that night where you had to wrestle both women into bed in one of the many guest rooms already set up for the adults staying over. You’d managed to get the two plastered women settled into bed — Mainly because you laid horizontally over both of their bodies to keep them in place. It took about twenty minutes, however it wasn’t long until you’d heard the soft snores of Emily while Penelope was sleeping soundly while snuggled up under the sheets.

You had to lay there for a moment to collect yourself before pushing yourself out of bed, heading out of the room while gently pulling the door shut. Last thing you needed was to make too much racket and have to chase those two around again. “I feel like you all owe me for that.” You commented as you’d pulled open the back door, Spencer’s head lifting up from a book in his hand. “Better you than us.” He commented, which had the other men outside laughing. “Rossi turned in early. It’s just us.” Luke informed you, the absence of Dave being noticed. “Fun. What are you three doing?” You asked, heading to the chair closest to Spencer as you were sitting down.

“Nothing really. Derek and I were just talking while Spencer is too interested in,” Luke paused and leaned over the table to inspect the book cover. “Quantum Physics..” He crinkled his nose. There was never a dull book choice with Spencer, that was for sure. “Most guys would probably be talking about their sexual experiences by now. But our lovely Spencer Reid is reading about physics.” You teased, all in good fun as you teased the male sitting beside you.

“I prefer not to talk about sexual experiences.”

“Because he hasn’t had any.”

“Derek!”

The table had erupted into laughter minus Spencer who had the look of a kicked puppy. “I’ve had sex before.” He grumbled while putting his face back in his book. “You have? Really?” You asked while letting your eyebrow raise. “Why is that a surprise?!” He asked, suddenly taking offense as he was closing the book. “No! I’m not saying it’s a surprise but you just don’t look like the type!”

“How does one look like a virgin?” He quizzed you, hazel eyes narrowed as he stared at you, head tilted to the side slightly. He had you there. What were you supposed to say? You cleared your throat as you lifted up your nearly forgotten glass of wine, swirling the red liquid around the glass. “I’m not sure how to answer that.” You admitted, making the genius smile triumphantly. “Exactly. You don’t know.”

“Okay, Casanova. Tell us about it.” Derek was intrigued as he leaned against the table. Spencer wasn’t one to share his personal life as often, so maybe that one drink he had in the night could’ve loosened him up even just a little bit to talk about it. “What?” The curly headed male squeaked, now looking between the three of you as you all seemingly waited patiently for a story.

“I’ve had sex more than once.” He huffed.

“Okay. So pick a good experience to tell us about then.” Luke chuckled as he raised an eyebrow, elbows propped up on the table.

With pursed lips, Spencer was crossing his arms. “I have to?” He asked while you nodded. “Oh yeah, you definitely have to. You’ve got some secrets that we need to know right now.” You giggle. Even with his apprehension, the brunette took in a breath. “Okay.. I guess I could share it. I mean, I have been wanting to get out of my comfort zone so maybe this will be good?” You highly doubted that he’d jump from being nervous like this to being able to talk about sex explicitly. It would take him a bit.

“Come on, pretty boy. I'm bored to death.” Derek sighed dramatically while you were punching his shoulder with a loud, “Shush!!”

“You remember Max, I’m sure.” Which yes, everyone did. His short-term girlfriend who had her family taken hostage a while ago. “We do, go on.” You urged him on, arms crossed on the table top. “I think you’re a little too into this,” Luke commented, the commentary being met with a swift kick to his leg under the table.

“I really don’t know how to describe it? Like, sex is sex, right?”

“Any interesting kinks? Come on, kid. We know you aren’t as innocent as you think you are.”

“Interesting? Not really. I mean, I am a fan of face sitting but I think that is standard, right?” The words escaping his mouth had Spencer’s face bright red as he leaned back against the chair behind him. There were wolf whistles at the admission. “Doesn’t matter if it’s standard or not.” Luke chuckled while holding his glass up as if he were toasting to him while chuckling.

“Well, what’s not considered normal?” Now Spencer was curious as he looked between the three of you. He wasn’t a big kinkster, as anyone would imagine. The question had you, Derek and Luke exchanging looks. “Well. Mixopholia isn’t common, I don’t think. Which that’s enjoying watching yourself have sex. Could be in front of a mirror, recording it, anything like that. It can be really fun, in all honesty. Especially if you record and play it back.” You responded, only raising an eyebrow at the gaped mouths of your male coworkers. “What? You’ve never done that? Derek, come on. You can’t lie.”

“No, mama. I never had that idea.” He chuckled while shaking his head. “It’s good to know now, I’m gonna need to try it.” He added while Luke was too busy thinking of things he liked. “It’s probably not abnormal but I really like thighs. I feel like that would be the body part I’m most obsessed with, especially when it comes to thigh fucking. It can be better than penetration.” He hummed. Which, they were pretty standard things to be sexually aroused by, even if Spencer would’ve never thought of the two ideas.

“I think I like group sex. I don’t have it a lot, however it can be pretty great when you have the right group. I know it’s nonconventional. I’ve had all sorts of sex but I think I’ll always go back to that.” Derek spoke up while shrugging his shoulders. “A group?? Do you know many germs are exchanged in encounters like that?” Spencer asked, dumbfounded while the man in front of him waved him off. “It’s a good time. If you don’t believe it, then I highly suggest you at least try it before denying,” He chuckled.

Judging by Spencer’s look of morbid curiosity, he was considering it. “How does one even do that? I feel like you need to have connections..” Was Spencer really considering it? “You just have to find people you’re comfortable with.” Derek shrugged while tapping his hand against the table. There were a few moments of silence while Spencer’s brain was working overtime, you could swear smoke was coming out of his ears.

“I trust all of you.”

The words had your throat running dry. “Is that supposed to be an invitation?” You asked, your own curiosity shining through. You’d always considered Derek, Luke and Spencer as attractive, however you never considered having sex with all three of them. You had to admit, you really did enjoy the idea of getting passed around by some of the most attractive men on the team. The idea was enough to cause goosebumps to spread across your body. Surely it would be a bad idea to have sex with a coworker, much less three of them.

Spencer’s face was bright red as he put his hands up in self defense. “You don’t have to say yes but I would say that I wouldn’t mind sharing.. Germs..? With you guys.” He shrugged while shyly looking away. What a compliment from Spencer Walter Reid. The man who wouldn’t even give handshakes was willing to throw away his typical formula for three coworkers. “I am just saying!” He rambled on, now feeling self conscious at his admission.

“Now hold on. I think this idea could be beneficial.” Luke spoke up while chuckling. “I mean. We are all grown ups, right?” Your head nodded immediately after Luke put in his own two cents. “I agree with Luke. I mean, where’s the harm?! We are all friends anyway, I couldn’t imagine this being awkward for us.” Realistically, there were many issues with the idea of having sex with coworkers. You didn’t even care about them right now.

“Are you guys serious?” Derek asked, wide eyes from shock. “Why not? You mean to tell me that you’re gonna pass up sex?” You asked curiously while raising an eyebrow. “Well, no. I just.. Damn, I didn’t know tonight would end like this, that’s all.” He explained, being so flabbergasted at the idea of a foursome with his coworkers. “Might I suggest we move inside? I mean, the last thing we need is Rossi looking out the window and seeing us out here.” Luke began while nodding towards the window overlooking the backyard.

So, you did.

You had never been this excited before, your body buzzing with arousal and excitement. This was a sexual bucket list type thing for you, not something you could imagine doing regularly. Plus, having it be with Derek, Spencer and Luke just made it twenty times better. The minute you were closed in the guest room furthest from everyone else in the house, there was a bit of awkwardness as the four of you looked between each other. How does somebody kick something like this off? With strangers, it would be different but you all worked together.

This was a lot harder to start than you thought it would be.

“How about we ease ourselves into this?” Derek suggested, now looking between the other three people in the room. “Why don’t you give us a show?” He hummed while looking in your direction, your face flushed. “Like a strip tease?” The nod of his head solidified your suspicions, your head nodding as you watched the three men sit on the edge of the bed to face you. The intense gaze of three men was intimidating as all hell, especially when they had the look of hunger and desire burning holes through your skin.

Your movements were slow as you pushed the Halloween sweater up your body, tugging it over your head before tossing it somewhere else in the room. You hadn’t planned for this so you couldn’t get too dressed up, however the Halloween themed bra and panty set was cute and got the job done. Next was your leggings, which were slowly being pushed down your thighs as you were revealing the thin panties, a nice wet patch darkening the cotton. You liked this attention. You liked the idea of being ravished by three men who wanted to use you for their own pleasure.

It was exhilarating.

“Come here.” Derek was the first to speak up, his finger making a gesture to get you to come closer. You obliged, only letting out a squeak of surprise when you were being tugged in the man’s lap. You could feel the bulge in his pants pressed against your ass, brain clouded with arousal as you were letting your arms wrap around Derek’s shoulders. His hands were gripping your ass, eyes scanning over your body as he let out a low groan. There were no words exchanged, the man mesmerized by your nearly fully exposed body, his hands running up your hips before cupping your clothed breasts.

You let his hands continue to caress and explore every inch of skin, face hot as you were rocking your hips against his strained cock in his jeans. “You like this, don’t you? Like the attention of your friends and coworkers?” He questioned while an eyebrow raised, your head nodding as you let out a shaky breath from the friction of his jeans against your clothed clit, the roughness of his pants felt like heaven through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Who knew you’d be a whore? You want us to record this? Give you something to look back on whenever that little pussy of yours is desperate to be stuffed?” The words elicited a moan, your head nodding. “Fuck. Yeah.” You whined.

Luke was the one who was getting his phone, setting up the device on a lamp on the bedside table to get a clear view of the bed. You were caught off guard though when you were quickly pushed to the mattress, your back hitting the smooth sheets. Using your elbows to prop yourself up, you watched as Derek was patting Spencer’s shoulder. The brunette was already overwhelmed seeing you in your underwear, his face bright red as he could feel the tight constriction of his boxers around his cock.

“Go on, kid. You wanted to try this, didn’t you? Only fair you get to go first.” Derek commented while nodding his head to urge him on. The awkward male was clearing his throat as he was approaching the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist to welcome him as your hands then gripped his arm, gently tugging his lanky frame closer to you as you let your lips press against his. The sudden action had him taken aback, however the shock wore off rather quickly as his lips slotted with your own.

It was calm at first, until the desperation set in as the male above you. That was when the kids had grown messy, your fingers tangled in his brunette curls as his hips were grinding against you. Spencer would be the first to say that he was going to drink in the moment, to enjoy this while you allowed him to touch you in any way he pleased. It was no secret that the awkward, shy genius had a small crush on you, his behavior making it apparent more often than he realized. That was why he was taking his time, his tongue in your mouth as the germaphobe was surprising himself with his loss of apprehension to swap spit with you.

Much to both of your dismay, he was pulling out of the kiss. He made up for it though as his hands were coming up to cup your bra-clad breasts. A low groan left his lips as he kneaded at your soft, plush tits. One hand was slipping under you, his fingers quickly unclasping the article of clothing in his way and throwing it off to the side. He groaned, eyes fixated on your bare breasts. “You’re so pretty.” His voice came out in a pitiful whine, head dipping down to take your right nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his tongue swiping over your hardened nub had your eyes fluttering shut, the man sucking and nipping at your sensitive nipple while his other hand was working to massage your other breast, nipple rolling between his fingers to give it the equal attention that it deserved. As he’d done his best to alternate, it wasn’t long until your chest was glistening with the remanent spit from his attack on your tits.

With his hungry eyes trailing down your body now, he was leaning down to press a few warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Your fingers were quick to tangle in his soft brunette curls, head tilting back as his tongue trailed slowly down your stomach, nipping at your skin to leave a nice and big purple mark on your hip. The other men in the room had not been forgotten about however, your head tilting to the side to look at both Luke and Derek, the two men watching the scene play out in front of them, eyes blown out with lust and desire.

In a way, you felt like a gazelle in the presence of three starving lions, one already making his pounce onto you while the other two had calculated plans of their own. Spencer was blowing cool air on your glistening pussy, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as you clenched around nothing from sheer desperation. “Hold on,” Luke spoke up, his silence being short lived as Spencer was letting out a whine from his spot between your thighs. You didn’t expect Spencer to actually listen, however you weren’t able to question it as the other male was approaching the bed. “I have an idea. No need to get all teary eyed, Reid.” He spoke with a chuckle, the male between your thighs huffing as he backed away momentarily in order for Luke to throw you into a position.

The stark contrast between Spencer and Luke was something you were gracious for. The genius had a since of desperation, everything about him screaming that he wanted to drink in your essence and bask in the warmth coursing through his veins. The other had a clear motive in mind, the confidence to pick you up and move you into a position that he wanted you to be in. Both so different and yet so alike in the fashion of your thighs being sticky with your own arousal. With your body being turned horizontal, your head was now hanging off the bed which left very little to the imagination of what was coming next.

What you weren’t expecting though was Luke to nudge Spencer to the side when he was between your legs again, your left leg hanging off Spencer’s shoulder while your right was hanging off Luke’s. “Let’s put your germaphobia to the test.” Alvez just had to tease Spencer, a chuckle leaving his lips as he was leaning closer to your aching core. His tongue licked a fat stripe up your slit, a soft breath falling from your lips. You’d never thought of two men licking your pussy at once but the idea of it had butterflies going crazy in your belly.

Spencer was hesitant, looking at the spit mixed with your arousal. Before he could talk himself out of this idea and hide in the corner, he was leaning forward to lick the same spot the other man did. The comfortability was soon setting in as Spencer let his tongue flick over your clit, a sharp breath leaving your lips as you let a hand tangle in the mop of curls. Whenever the male began to suck and toy with your clit, Luke was bringing a hand to his mouth as he sucked at his fingers, eventually getting them settled at your entrance before pushing one of the digits inside of your desperate cunt, eliciting a moan as your head tilted back, still hanging over the edge of the bed.

As the two men between your legs alternated between licking at your weeping pussy or fingering you, Derek got a little bored of watching. While your head was tossed back, eyes fluttered shut as both skilled tongues were licking and sucking at your sensitive center, Derek worked on unbuttoning his pants as he approached where your head was hanging off the bed. “Alright, pretty girl. We are gonna put that mouth to good use.” He spoke, voice low and husky as he was retrieving his hard cock out of his pants.

Your mouth was practically watering as you took in the sight of the leaking tip of his cock, the shaft glistening from the beads of precum that were dripping from his slit. There was a lot going through your mind, however your body worked as if it was going off muscle memory.

As your desperate pussy clenched around someone’s fingers, your mouth was falling open to give the male above you the access that he needed. “That’s what I thought. Who would’ve known that you’d be such a whore?” He asked, an eyebrow raising as his hand tugged at his cock, slipping his cock past the threshold of your lips while his hand was running over your chest.

You were on cloud nine, even through the gagging on your coworkers cock to the point tears were brimming your eyes. There was a lot going on, so much that you couldn’t focus on everything at once. That was what prompted Derek to take control. With his body leaning at a certain angle, he didn’t hesitate before thrusting into your mouth to elicit a moan as your eyes were screwed shut.

The thrusts were rough and precise, the male abusing your throat and surely rubbing it raw as he used your mouth like a fleshlight. “She’s gonna cum. Do we let her do it, doc?” Luke’s voice spoke up, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as your walls fluttered around the three fingers pistoning in your swollen, desperate cunt. Spencer was all for it, pulling off of your throbbing clit with a ‘pop’. “I think she’s been good enough to deserve it.” He confirmed, watching as Luke pulled his fingers out of your pussy, eliciting a whine from your lips being muffled around Derek’s cock. Luke was gripping the back of Spencer’s hair, catching the man by surprise.

The next movements were quick, Spencer having his face pushed into your pussy once more while Luke kept an eye on your mannerisms. With Spencer licking and sucking at your sweetness and Luke practically jerking his head in different ways to take control himself, it wasn’t long until your legs were shaking. With your orgasm building and Spencer sensing you were close, he didn’t need Luke's guidance to push his face further in your warmth, the sinful sounds of slurping and sucking filling the room.

“Fuck. Cum on his tongue, make a mess of his face.” Derek growled as he glanced down at you, his cock twitching in your mouth. Whenever you were hitting your orgasm, the man fucking your throat followed right behind. You did your best to swallow what you could, however he was tapping your cheek after his cock was pulled from the warmth of your mouth.

“Hold on, keep some of it.” He spoke, which had you nodding slowly as you pushed yourself to sit up while glancing at the men between your legs. “Why don’t you share with Spencer?” He asked, arms crossed as Spencer looked at the man with wide eyes. “Huh?!” you were following the instruction, your hands cupping Spencer’s cheeks before you were pressing your lips against his. In the process of the male getting comfortable enough with the idea, you were pushing the remnants of Derek’s cum into the brunette’s mouth, slowly pulling out of the kiss while wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

Spencer wasn’t really fond of it, however he knew this was for the sake of experimentation and he wouldn’t have to do it again. Luke was the first one to stand up as he worked on getting his clothes off, not being able to stand being fully clothed and constricted any longer. “Come here.” He mumbled, now moving to sit on the edge of the bed while tugging your body into his lap, his cock against your wet cunt as you weren’t hesitating to roll your hips slowly. “Fuck.” You breathed, feeling the hardness of his cock slotting between your slick pussy lips as you were grinding against his lap.

“That’s right.” Luke purred while his hands were reaching behind to grip your ass, a soft hum leaving his lips as he squeezed the plushy skin into his hands with a bruising grip. With one of your hands reaching between the both of you, you were positioning the bulbous tip with your leaking hole, you were sucking in a breath as you were slowly sinking down on his hard cock. Much like Derek’s, Luke had a good amount of length and girth, his fat cock stretching out your walls with a pleasurable burn.

His hands were gently guiding your hips, starting the process of working out what was most pleasurable for the both of you. The movements were slow, your hands holding his shoulders in order to brace yourself as you surrendered control to Luke for the time being. “Ah!” You squeaked, a certain angle making him hit the perfect spot. “There it is.” He smirked, the next thrust being a rough snap of his hips that had your body bouncing in his lap, a drawn out moan falling from your lips. Your hands rested gently against his broad chest, nudging him to lay back as you got into a more comfortable position. With your hair falling over your shoulder, your head was tilting forward as your hips were rocking at a steady pace while the large hands were now moving up your torso to fondle your breasts in his hands. While his fingers pinched and stimulated your sensitive nipples, you were reduced to a whining mess as your hips picked up their pace in sloppy movements.

The sensitivity from your previous orgasm had you feeling overwhelmed, just the feel of every ridge and curve of Luke’s cock had your body with satisfaction. Of course, he had learned your tell when it came to you about to cum, the way your greedy pussy tried pulling more of his cock even though he gave you everything you could take. Right whenever your second orgasm was in your sights though, you were stopped. The firm grip on your hips weren’t Luke’s, no, they were Derek’s. He’d managed to get on the bed behind you at some point. “I feel like Spencer has been completely neglected.” He tsked, his head shaking. “I think I know how you can make it up to him though.” He mused.

You were confused and deprived of an orgasm, a whine leaning your lips as you were pushed forward, your bare chest smashed against Luke’s as your ass was in the air, giving the other two men a tasteful view of your pussy stuffed with Luke’s cock. Derek took initiative, reaching around your body as he was pushing three fingers into your mouth. You weren’t really aware of what the game plan was, however you were happy to suck and lube up his fingers for whatever he had planned. With one lubed up digit tracing the ring of your other hole, you were letting out a gasp of surprise. “Think you can handle it?” Derek asked.

It was the bare minimum, however you appreciated the search for consent before he went any further. “I-I think so? What’s the harm in trying?” You were pushing your ass back against Derek’s fingers more, anticipating how this was going to go. You’d experimented plenty, however you’d never thought to try anal. With everyone trying all sorts of new things tonight, you figured it would be fun.

You were holding tightly to Luke’s arms whenever the other man’s finger was gently pushing into your ring of muscle, a few tears being wiped away from his hand as he helped soothe you from the foreign intrusion. “Doing such a good job.” Derek’s voice spoke up, Spencer’s gaze being all too fixated on the way his finger was being tightly gripped. It made his cock twitch in his pants, his hands working to quickly get them off for after Derek got you fully prepared.

One finger turned to two, then two turned to three. You wouldn’t lie, you never expected to like the aspect of anal sex this much. Especially while being stuffed full of cock in one hole and getting fingers in another. It made you feel like a cock hungry whore, something that had your pussy clenching tight around Luke’s cock.

When you were considered prepared enough, Derek’s fingers were gently being pulled out of your hole. “Alright, Reid. Go for it. Think she’s ready to have both of her holes stuffed.” He chuckled, watching the brunette quickly getting on his knees on the mattress behind you when Derek moved. “You’re sure this is okay?” His voice was shaky as he asked the question, his dick throbbing from being neglected for the past few activities. “It’s okay. Please.” Your voice was in the form of a whine, feeling a whole new level of intoxication as soon as his slick tip was coming into contact with your asshole.

Spencer was groaning as he watched the way the hole was embracing the tip of his cock, his head tilting forward to send a string of spit to your desperate asshole. It was an action you hardly expected but you were embracing it as soon as you felt his cock pushing into you, a cry leaving your lips as a pool of drool was falling from the corner of your mouth and on Luke’s chest. This was too much, however you didn’t want it to end.

The two men had to come to an agreement, setting a pace where they wouldn’t rip you in half. Spencer’s large hands were gripping tight to your hips, nails digging into your flesh and surely leaving crescent indents in your soft skin. That was when Derek was retrieving the phone on the bedside table, approaching the bed as he played cameraman. “Look at her taking two cocks at the same time. Can you believe how much of a whore she is?” His voice was cold, yet not enough to be outright hurtful.

As Spencer was thrusting, your body was moving slightly as you were pretty much reduced to a little fuck doll that both Luke and Spencer were using for their own gratification. Your body was reduced to a pile of malleable clay in their hands, both men working out a system where they could reduce you to a crying and whining mess. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you were whining and moaning with each rough thrust. “You look like an angel. So pretty when you’re fucked out.” Derek cooed, the phone being moved to reveal your wet chin from drool, your eyes glossed over from the tears from overstimulation, even the way you laid all your weight on Luke’s chest as you were reaching your orgasm, walls clamping down onto the male’s cock.

There were a few more thrusts from Luke before you could feel a fish of warmth, his cum filling your spent pussy as you were shivering from the sensation. Spencer was the next one to reach his orgasm, spilling his seed into your tight hole as he was letting out a guttural groan. It was something that didn’t even sound like Spencer. You were so blissed out that you didn’t even remember whenever Luke gently lifted you off or his softening dick, laying you back on the mattress while your head was resting against the fluffy pillow that Spencer propped it up with.

“We should get you cleaned up.” Spencer cooed, his hands moving to gently rub your inner thighs to help relax your aching muscles from the new position you were just put into. Derek was nodding as he was getting himself dressed again. “We can run her a bath and help her get cleaned up. The bathroom is just next door.”

Spencer was the one to head out, reaching the bathroom and getting the bathtub ready with some bubble bath he found in one of the bathroom cabinets. Derek and Luke were both helping you stand and walking with you to the bathroom since you were still quite out of it. “Do you want all of us to stay here with you?” Luke asked while lowering you into the water once your bath was ready. For the first time in ten minutes, you were looking up at the three men with the same fucked out look in your eyes. “Spencer.” You whined gently, while the other two men were patting the brunette’s back before heading out of the bathroom to get the room cleaned up.

“Get in.” You slurred, the man not having to be told twice as he was stripping himself down once more and gently lifting you in order to get into the water before letting you lean back against his chest. “Thank you.” You yawned, feeling the warmth of his hands as he was massaging your body to help relax you even further. “You don’t have to thank me, silly. I’m here to help.” He assured you while pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good. Hopefully we can relive this night in the future. Just the two of us.”

[aviscarrentals]

i want to play a (racing) game

a series of f1 fics based off of some of my favorite horror movies

charles leclerc- the shining

you, your boyfriend, and a bunch of friends decide to spend your winter break together in a giant hotel. what could go wrong?

max verstappen- it

after years away from your hometown, derry, you suddenly receive an urgent call from your long-forgotten childhood friend, alex, that leads to you returning to the very place you swore you would never face again

carlos sainz- a quiet place

after losing everything you know when the world fell into apocalypse due to the invasion of alien-like monsters with some very sharp ears, you find a new family in the other survivors

lando norris- scary movie (saw parody)

you wake up next to a stranger in a dimly lit room chained to a chair, which is bolted to the floor. luckily, the situation turns out to be more humorous than terrifying (may or may not be 100% based off of the jerma episode of generation loss LOL)

fernando alonso- freaky

you wake up in the body of a middle aged man. but not just any man. a man who also happens to be a wanted serial killer.

george russell- the purge

you and your best friend alex's annoying best friend, george, have to work together to survive the purge night (lily's also there)

pierre gasly- unfriended

you and your friends video call every friday night to hang out together. unfortunately, an angry spirit has decided it wants to spend some time with you guys as well...

mick schumacher- fnaf

after countless failed attempts, you've finally found yourself a new job! the bad news is, it's a night shift and you're scared of the dark. so, naturally, you drag your boyfriend along with you.

alex albon- child's play

when you and your boyfriend unexpectedly have to take in your young niece, you two struggle to make a connection with the little girl. maybe splurging on the cool new doll she's been wanting will fix that.

yuki tsunoda- final destination

what do you do when some random guy that you've never spoken to before tells you he's seen visions of you dying? what do you do when it turns out he was right and death is pretty pissed off?

oscar piastri- the menu

you and your husband have worked non-stop to build a successful, stable life for yourselves. you two really deserve a break. how about a fancy dinner on a remote island prepared by one of the most revered chefs in the entire culinary world?

ollie bearman- scary stories to tell in the dark

it's the final halloween before you have to move away from your hometown and your best friends since birth. hopefully you can make it a night to remember.

lance stroll- the cabin in the woods

you and your boyfriend decide to invite some friends to spend the weekend in a little log cabin in the forest as a way to momentarily retreat from your stressful lives. well you definitely won't be getting any rest this weekend, that's for sure.

logan sargeant- scream (aka yelp)

an eerie masked killer has made its way into your town and is slowly picking kids off one by one. who could it be? is there anyone you can trust? prologue chapter 1

liam lawson- happy death day

happy birthday! i hope you're excited because this will be the longest day(s?) of your life

sebastian vettel- the texas chainsaw massacre

it's summer, which of course means it's time for a roadtrip! unfortunately, you and your friends decided to visit texas, usa, where everything's bound to go wrong (because it's texas, usa)

kimi raikkonen- would you rather

desperate times call for desperate measures, although at this point desperate would be an understatement. so when the perfect opportunity falls right into your lap, who are you to turn it down?

jenson button- halloween

it's halloween! the spookiest day of the year. even though you don't bother participating in silly little holiday celebrations, there are some traditions you can't ignore…

mark webber- 28 days later

the world has gone to shit. even so, you're doing everything you can to survive, despite how hard it is on your own. maybe it would be better if you formed a team?

[sinjaangels]

A possible scenario for TWST Halloween 2024.

Halloween is Night Raven College's most anticipated holiday which they host for their Sage Town neighbors. If the spookiest time of the year is for our villainous TWST boys, then Christmas/Twisted Equivalent/Hearth's Warming is happily celebrated by the Royal Sword Academy.

Christmas/Hearth's Warming is the day of giving, showing love and warmth. It makes NRC gag.

However, a certain new Halloween character may find Hearth's Warming intriguing...

What if this years TWST Halloween is a combined Christmas event?

[silverzoomies]

Monster Mash

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, zombies, biting, undead, undead!reader, gender neutral reader, zombie kink

word count: 11,996

a/n: first of three peter-centric halloween fics!! hopefully i'll get them all posted before the month ends!! timeline here is extremely fuzzy, and might not fall in line with canon. it's kind of super ambiguous.

the usual apologies: clunky writing, potentially ooc peter/other characters, inconsistencies, ending's super meh, etc etc etc. idk if peter would realistically be down to bang a cute, zombified reader. but hey, it's fiction. why the heck not!

tag list (i remembered this time!!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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October. Just a week before Halloween.

Peter didn’t celebrate the holiday too often these days. Not like he used to. Ever since he took up teaching at the X-mansion, he only participated in a handful of Halloween activities. The staple being - playing escort for mutant kiddos on trick-or-treating ventures. An activity he enjoyed a lot, since the kiddos referred to “Mr. Maximoff” as “the school's most awesome trick-or-treat buddy.” Which had nothing to do with Peter swiping a little extra candy - for the kids, of course - when the other teachers weren’t looking. Swear on his life.

Another Halloween festivity he loved? The school's annual, X-family Halloween party. The team generally left Peter in charge of decorations, considering it took him no time at all to set them up. Professor Chuck himself - legendary baldy - always played host at those parties. As per tradition - after the party died down - Peter cozied up in the living room with the team. They’d gather together to watch everyone’s favorite horror flicks on VHS.

He really couldn’t wait for this year’s festivities. Peter looked forward to those after-party, horror movie marathons every year. Movie nights with the team? Pretty freakin’ awesome. If only for two reasons: The abundance of sugary garbage to snack on. And the way Ororo loooooooved snuggling up with him on the couch. Being so hot natured helped. Living life in the fast lane - operating like a human furnace - sure had its perks sometimes. ‘Ro’s cuddling made an excellent distraction from Peter’s unbridled loneliness. Haha...

C-...Consider that a topic for another day. Moving on.

On horror movie night, Peter inevitably saw the jumpscares coming leagues before anyone else. It never failed. He’d call them seconds ahead of time. With ‘Ro lying at his side, and his arm wrapped around her waist. Peter would exclaim, “Jumpscare!”, breaking the tension heavy silence amongst the group. Spoiling whatever movie played. Everyone hated it, of course. Kurt growled at him. Animalistic, but nowhere near intimidating. Jubilee pelted Peter with popcorn.

Peter just couldn’t help himself. Those scares were so predictable and boring sometimes. Sure, he liked horror movies enough. With all the gnarly gore and twisted kills. But they never freaked him out, since he didn’t spook easily. His incomprehensible reaction time made terror a tough game.

All that being said...

Even with his totally outrageous bravery streak, Peter - guilty as charged - sure had his candy-ass moments.

This current mission proved, without a doubt, one of the spookiest situations he’d ever landed himself in. He could feel it in the air tonight. And not in the groovy, Phil Collins way either. An ominous sense of uneasiness crawled across his skin. Eerie vibes sent chills creeping up his spine like spiders through a web. Peter wished he could fast forward to Halloween night on the couch with ‘Ro. Heck, he'd even take decorating duty over this any day of the week. At least he could go all out, and have his own fun with it.

For an October’s night, the weather seemed uncannily coincidental. Drops of rain showered from a mass of black clouds. A sharp crack of lightning struck the ground, with a roar of thunder following in succession. It rattled the very foundation of the abandoned lab Peter found himself exploring. As part of a last minute, late night mission.

Below his feet, tiled floors laid in disrepair. Dirtying the mismatched laces of his untied sneakers. Peter snuck his way through murky hallways, his heightened senses buzzing on edge. Fight or flight kicked into high gear, making him all the more sensitive to any outside stimuli. Another echoing roar rumbled through the building, threatening to topple its cracking walls. Peter worried the ceiling might cave in at any moment.

A terrifying thought. But it happened to be the exact reason Hank chose Peter for this mission to begin with. Should shit hit the fan, Peter could skedaddle at the speed of light unscathed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Unlike his other team members, who might risk being flattened like a pancake. Under the weight of, not one, but two floors above.

…Speaking of pancakes. Peter should definitely drop by a mom ‘n pop diner before heading back to base. He could really go for a fresh stack of late night hotcakes right about now. Warm and soft. With chocolate chips melting on the inside. Caked in sticky syrup and slathered with butter. Oooooh! And a little bacon on the side. Not too crispy, not too flop-

His mouth watered, and Peter blinked. Wiping his jacket sleeve across his lips, he redirected his attention to the task at hand. Focus, Quickie. He had a job to do, and he didn’t wanna be stuck doing said job all night.

The lab sat nestled off the coast of some island with a foreign name. Super hard to pronounce. Peter couldn’t remember it off the top of his head. Prior to this assignment, he’d never even heard of the place. But apparently, neither had anyone else. Hank sent Peter in search of what he dubbed leads on a mystery project. Something to do with scientific documents.

If he found any, he’d read their info over to Scott. Who would then relay that same intel back to Hank. Like an insanely boring game of telephone. Why Peter couldn’t speak to Hank directly was anybody’s guess. Too busy with his super secret project thingy-majig, possibly?

Hanging from Peter’s stereo belt alongside his old Walkman, a walkie screeched with a shrill chirp. A shock of alarm shot straight through Peter’s veins, making him jump. Scott’s voice crackled from the speakers.

“Any updates, Pete?” Scott asked, “Tell me anything you got. Even if it seems boring. Just hit me with it. It’s gotta be better than waiting around here in the lab, doing nothing.”

Peter held a compact flashlight in one hand, searching the lab’s pitch black halls. Most of the rooms he passed looked desolate. Barren and dusty. Save for the odd desk or empty cabinet. Peter wondered if they’d all been ransacked when the place closed down. The ceiling leaked rain from the floors above, dripping onto Peter’s bomber jacket. At the edge of his vision, he caught a rat scurrying by. But otherwise, not much else.

Pulling the walkie from his belt, he brought it up to his lips, “Uh. It’s dark and kinda spooky here. Saw a rat. Storm’s not gettin’ any better. It keeps shakin’ the whole place.” Peter shook his head, “If it doesn’t let up, I’m gonna have to split. Don’t wanna wait around to see what happens next, y’know? Over."

On the other end of the line, Scott breathed an annoyed sigh. Even through low-quality speaker fuzz, Peter could tell the sigh lacked any real spite.

“Peter. We’ve been over this. We aren’t using decades old, two-way radio communication. You really don’t have to say over. ”

Peter drummed his free hand on an empty desk. Following the beat of Sweet Poison by Naked Eyes, as it played from the only earbud he wore. He wanted to keep one ear open, just to hear Scott clearly. And mayhaps because he felt the teensy weensiest bit paranoid by his lonesome in the lab.

“Copy that. Over.” He grinned to himself.

The further Peter explored the lab’s halls, thick layers of mucky green seemed to take over. If he had to guess, he assumed Hank didn’t consider masses of moss “key intel.” Every few feet Peter stepped, he tore his way through another wall of cobwebs. Lots and lots of creepy cobwebs. Reduced to undying boredom, Peter took to karate chopping them. Might as well have fun in the face of ennui.

Half second flickers of lightning cast the lab in gleaming flashes. Bringing Peter’s attention to more rooms he missed. He wandered through some old offices. Or what he thought were offices, anyway. The trashed state of the rooms made it hard to tell. Nothing within them had withstood the test of time. Peter even tried poking around with some clunky computers. No luck. Dead as doornails.

“Found some computers. C64’s, I think. Haven’t seen one ‘a these bad boys since forever ago. But they’re totally busted.” Peter reported into the walkie, banging a fist onto one of the computers, “Yep. Busted. Over.”

Before leaving the room, Peter fucked around. Knocking over a computer monitor for no reason at all. He snatched a few, grubby pens from a lone desk. As well as a cracked coffee mug that read “I try to tell chemistry jokes, but there’s no reaction.” Just for the heck of it. Why not swipe some keepsakes, eh?

After what felt like a geological age of scouring, Peter eventually stumbled upon more filing cabinets. Stuffed to the brim with research documents and science-y records. Sighing, he pulled each drawer open one by one. Peter read the dusty files, sharing intel with Scott over the walkie. For every document Scott dismissed, Peter tossed them carelessly aside over his shoulder.

Antsy to wrap the mission up, grab some pancakes, and race home for a game of GoldenEye; Peter rushed through the last few folders. In hopes of finding whatever specific file Hank needed. But upon the last one, Scott broke some totally bogus news.

“Sorry about this.” Scott sighed, “Those files? Yeah. Hank says they’re all duds. No dice. You think it’s safe to keep looking? You might have to check the second floor.” He mentioned, to Peter’s dismay.

Peter bumped his head into the filing cabinet, groaning aloud. With a kick of his foot, he closed the last drawer and trudged onward. Oh well. The speedster could totally manage. At least he brought mix-tapes to keep his mind occupied. Along with extra tapes stashed in his belt pockets for good measure. Without music, he’d be so outrageously miserable on a mission like this.

Shining the dinky flashlight, he scanned the first floor area one more time. Just to be sure. The flashlight’s glow passed a set of double doors, leading to-

Wait. Back it up a sec. Double doors? Quietly singing New Order’s Blue Monday to himself, Peter moonwalked backwards to observe the doors again. Knitting his brows, he blinked. Stumped.

“Yo. Scotty. Got another room on the first floor. Gonna check it out real quick. Over.” Peter reported, clicking the walkie into place on his belt.

Another echo of thunder rattled through the lab, shaking the floors above. Lightning illuminated the halls in temporary flickers of white. Peter stared at the large set of doors, totally bamboozled. He couldn’t comprehend how he missed them before. When he knew for a fact he checked every nook and cranny. Inching closer, he eyed a sign pasted on one of the doors. In a rough scratch of permanent marker, the sign read:

Reanimation experiments in progress. Do not disturb!!

Reanimation? What, like…of the dead? Pfffbt. No way! Could this spooky place get any spookier? Peter swallowed an uncomfortable wedge in his throat. Shaking off any chills threatening to overtake him, he shined his flashlight through one of the door’s windows. Peter scanned the area for anything useful.

Inside, he clocked an operating table. Close to that, a lone cart cluttered with rusty, surgical tools. Cracked computer screens lined one of the walls, more advanced than they should’ve been. At least for the era they originated. Tangled cables ran along the floor, leading to something in the shadows. Peter couldn’t make it out.

He arched a brow, finally locking his sights on - Aha! Jackpot! More filing cabinets. Hopefully, they held his ticket out of this creepy place. Fingers crossed. Peter burst into the room in a flash, kicking up dust in his wake. Tearing through another wall of cobwebs, he surveyed the area again. Making a mental note of every cabinet he could see. Enough to keep him busy for the next hour, he guessed. Peter slumped his shoulders, huffing an aggravated groan.

Talking to Scott through the entire process made it more bearable. Being so no nonsense and straight forward, Scott had no problem retaining the info Peter shared from every file. Which saved the speedster any hassle of repeating himself, or having to explain things he didn’t understand. Science? Not really Peter's area of expertise. He thought himself more of a tech, or music guy.

Luckily enough, Peter found whatever documents Hank sent him after. A deep dive into every folder, in every drawer, in about a dozen different cabinets were all it took. Had Peter aged another thirty years? He sure as hell felt like it. No sweat! Mission accomplished. Time to bid the old lab goodbye.

Peter flew through the rest of the cabinets in less than a second’s time. Triple checking for any intel Hank might find compelling. He skimmed some records documenting the “reanimation of dead tissue.” Hm. Actually, blue beastie might potentially find that fascinating. “Reanimation” of the dead didn’t exactly sound too commonplace in modern science, did it?

In a folder, Peter discovered a file. Clipped with a photograph of - hellllllllooooo there! Someone…kinda cute. Very cute. Peter whistled, piercing the quiet thrum of distant rain. He read on.

Oh. The cute someone. They died. Tragically perished. Hit by a car back in the 80’s. What a bummer. One of the scientist's brought them to the lab as a test subject. Used for some twisted experiment in reanimation. The kicker? They proved to be the lab’s first and only successful trial run. Of around fifty different, reanimation trials. Yikes. That's...a lotta dead bodies.

These scientists successfully revived the dead? Peter doubted it. Over a decade had passed since then, and no one ever used the technology mentioned in the files. This lab's research couldn’t be as successful as they documented. Or something must've gone wrong, for them to give up and shut down the lab's operation completely.

Yeah. Treating human corpses like science fair projects for school? Super warped. Hank, wacky in his science ventures, totally found macabre shit like that interesting. Shrugging, Peter tucked the manilla folders he gathered under an arm. He grabbed his walkie, and reported to Scott.

“I got somethin’ else Hank might be into. It's totally messed up, he'll love it. But-uh…if that’s all he needed? I’m gonna jet now, ‘kay? I can’t take another minute in this scary ass place. Over and out.”

Before making his leave, Peter glanced around the room one last time. He appeared near the operating table in a picosecond, his brown eyes scanning the cart next to it. Curiously, Peter picked through some rusty, surgical tools.

Upon finding a scalpel in fairly okay condition, he swiped the tool and slipped it inside his back pocket. Whistling to Oingo Boingo's No One Lives Forever - in hindsight, kind of ironic - playing from his Walkman, Peter raised a foot to kick the cart. Watching it roll away into a nearby wall. Hasta la vista.

As Peter steered away from the operating table, a monstrous shadow loomed at the edge of his vision. His heart rampantly pounded in his chest, his senses still high strung. Jumping back with a terrified gasp, Peter climbed halfway onto the operating table. He fumbled for his flashlight, pointing the glow at the massive bundle of darkness. The light shook in Peter’s trembling hand.

But it-...oh. Phew! Nothing to be afraid of. Hah. What the heck was Peter gettin’ riled up for?

Like something straight out of science fiction, Peter’s shadowy monster proved nothing more than a giant pod. He squinted, moving towards it until close enough to observe it more clearly. The tech appeared big enough to hold a person of his size. Or, hell, maybe even someone of Beast’s size. Peter ran a hand along the surface of the pod, gathering a layer of dust on his fingertips. Scowling, he shuddered, wiping the dust on his jeans. “ EUGH! Eck-” Peter exclaimed to no one, “What’s up with this dusty, old thing??” Glass encased the outer layer of the large machine. It might've been see-through, if not for the unsanitary grime blanketing the entire thing. Years upon years of soot build up. Peter tried wiping the dust away with his elbow, to no avail. He couldn’t see inside, even with the aid of his flashlight.

Puzzled, Peter darted around the room in a silver blur, searching for clues. A switch of some kind? A secret code? He tampered with everything from the cracked monitors on the wall, to the colorful cables lining the floor. Peter even tried prying the pod open with a rusty hammer he found. Still, it refused to budge. Even with the power of speedster strength. Was it made of adamantium or something?

Sighing, defeated, Peter tossed the hammer away. It crashed into one of the screens hanging against the wall. Shattering the crystal display upon impact. Whoops. Oh well. How much more damage could be done to the place? Not like anyone would be making renovations anytime soon. Not in the middle of buttfuck nowhere island.

Making an accidental misstep, Peter slipped on his untied shoelaces. His ankle entangled itself in a circle of cables on the floor, and he lost his balance. Tripping, Peter stumbled backwards into some busted machinery, knocking his head. His back collided with the hard, metal surface behind him.

“ Auuugh. Shit.” Peter muttered. He didn’t understand how he could be so goddamn clumsy all the time, given - what the professor called - his mutant gift, “Ow. Dammit.”

He must have triggered a switch when he tripped. Suddenly, a loud hiss seethed through the air like a bus braking to a stop. A slow moving cloud of smoke rose from inside the pod. As it spread, filling the room, the fumes turned radioactive neon in color. It swarmed Peter’s nostrils, overflowing his senses with an earthy scent.

“Uhhh…uh oh.” He mumbled, “Is that supposed to happen?” Acting in haste, Peter scrambled to free his ankle from the cable’s tight grip.

A corpse reanimation research lab.

Nope. Noooope. He’d seen Return of the Living Dead enough times to know - whatever the hell’s happening now? Bad news. Couldn’t be good. Peter suppressed the urge to scream like a frightened child. A buzzing voice chimed from his walkie, startling him further. Dammit all, Scotty! He almost sent Peter into cardiac arrest for a hot second.

“Peter? Hey-uh, are you there? You alright? You didn’t stop somewhere for pancakes again, did you?” Scott crackled through the walkie, but Peter didn’t respond, “Better bring enough back for the whole class.” He joked, sarcastic.

Peter gawked at the sight before him in a mix of horror and confusion. Completely petrified, as Oingo Boingo played through his ear. The neon smoke emitted from the pod began to clear, revealing a body inside. A dead body.

Your dead body, to be specific.

Somehow, Peter recognized you. But that didn’t make any sense at all. He knew for a freakin’ fact he’d never seen or met you a day in his life. Unless… oh. Oh, holy shit. He hurriedly grabbed the extra folder he’d taken and opened it, just to glance between you, and the photo inside. And sure enough… The first and only successful trial run in reanimation.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Peter’s eyes blew open wide. His stomach dropped twenty thousand feet through the ground, plummeting to the Earth’s core. Swallowing thickly, he observed your slumbering body from his position on the dirty floor.

Your skin appeared ashier than it naturally should be. Y’know, on account of being dead and all. It more closely resembled a subdued, greenish color. Kinda Frankenstein-esc. Stitches lined each and every one of your limbs. As if some psycho nut job took you apart and sewed you back together again. Judging by the info in your file, they probably did. Embedded into your neck, were two bolts on either side. Also very Frankenstein-esc. You reminded him of a wax dummy on the set of some low-budget, horror flick. It’d be kinda funny, if he didn’t feel seconds away from screaming in horror.

You could be a dummy, if Peter had any luck. Yeah. This mission? Surely just a super elaborate prank set up by the team. Like a haunted house tour, made to scare the silver pants off him. Those sly dogs think they’re so slick, huh? ...R-Right?

Peter took a deep breath, keeping his terrified gaze fixed on you. In his ear, the funky tune came to an end. The lab fell into a deafening silence. Only broken by the faintest pitter patter of rain, and a quiet clamor of thunder now echoing at a distance. Signaling the passing of the storm. One less thing to worry about.

Though, he’d much rather agonize over a building’s foundation crumbling. He could handle a weather-related disaster wayyy better than a zombie coming to life, to - potentially - gorge on his flesh.

Raising his flashlight, he pointed the glow at your lifeless body. Again, Peter breathed a long sigh to ease his panic stricken nerves. An interference of crackling static ripped through the walkie then. Loud, and shrill enough to cut glass. At that very moment, your eyes - once locked in eternal slumber - popped open freakishly wide.

Oh. Oh hellllll no. Fuck that. Fuuuuck that.

Peter’s hunch proved totally right. You weren’t just dead. You were undead.

“ Mmmmmm nope.” Peter mumbled to himself, swiftly shaking his head, “Nuh uh. Nope.”

Shaking with adrenaline, he glanced between your dead-eyed gaze, and his trapped foot. Okay! No problem-o! Not a problem at all. For an X-Man, zombies made an easy foe, right? Peter could totally just-...

Just vamoose! Make a break for it! Right now!

Like, now.

Peter hadn’t run away yet. Why hadn’t he run away? Hellllloooo? Ground control to Quickie! Time to make a quick exit, and head for the hills. Lest he become zombie chow.

Stunned, Peter remained petrified. In an uncannily slow movement, you rose from the pod like Nosferatu out of a coffin. Peter cursed under his breath, willing his terror to take a one way ticket outta there. He needed to come to his senses, and fast. Even as Peter tried to move, his paralyzed state caused him to fumble again. His movements lacked their natural fluidity, and his blood ran cold.

Like a total doofus, in his failed attempt to escape, Peter tangled his foot even deeper through the cables. Sometime in the last thirty seconds or so, he dropped his flashlight. Within the inky darkness, he could barely make out your shape as you moved. You groaned a long, croaky sound. Guttural, like an eldritch abomination.

Another crash of lightning showered your living corpse in a white luster. Peter made direct eye contact with you. A gaze between life and death.

A yell vibrated through his lungs and bounced off the walls of the room, as Peter finally screamed. Your slow moving, zombified body climbed from the pod much like a spider. Stumbling at first, you connected your bare feet with the dirty, tiled floor. Once you found your balance, a cracking sound erupted from your limbs. Your bones clicked and popped audibly into place. Peter scowled, physically cringing.

Another scream tore from the depths of his chest, “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” He shouted.

You dragged your feet in a limp, moving towards Peter with a slow gait. Stitched arms reached out for him in an unhurried motion, “ Luhhhhhhhh- ” You choked on a groggy gurgle.

Fuck. Fucking shit fuck. You definitely wanted to feast on his juicy brains and smooth flesh. No denying that. It had been, like, a decade since you last ate anything. And Peter probably looked like one hell of a snack right about now. Not even in a totally kinky way.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH! Hold yer horses there, baby! Yer gettin’ a liiiitttle too close fer comfort now! C’mon, huh? Do you really think I’m on the menu? ‘Cuz trust me. If yer gonna eat somebody? I shouldn’t be yer first choice! I really don’t taste all that great!” Peter yelled, throwing a hand out momentarily before returning to the tangled cables. He huffed an uneasy laugh, “SHIT! Yer not listening, are you? Ahaha! Yer gonna eat me. Totally gonna eat me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-”

Peter tore at the cables wrapped around his foot. Acting as quickly as his petrified state would allow, he pulled the scalpel from his back pocket. But the dull razor’s edge refused to cut through the wires. Dropping the useless tool, he ripped into the cables one more time using all his strength. Only to free himself a millisecond too late. Always late. You lurched forward, making grabby hands. 

Quicksilver vs. an actual, real life zombie. If he made it out alive, that’d make one helluva story.

But-

Wait a damn minute. Hold the freakin’ phone. Why were you…looking at him like that?

The glazed over eyes of a living corpse opened up, all big and doe-like. Gazing at Peter in - no mistaking it - infatuated fondness. Your supple lips parted with a wide smile of pure delight. Like sunshine peeking through hazardous, storm clouds. You leapt forward unexpectedly, squeaking a raspy squeal. Burrowing your face into the warmth of Peter’s chest, you linked your arms around his neck. Holding onto him tight.

“What the-” He whispered, looking down at your messy head of hair.

Uh. Okay. So, that just happened. Weird. Why weren’t you feasting on his flesh? Wasn’t he supposed to be your first meal since zombie hibernation, or something? Didn’t you wanna go chomp chomp chomp, and turn his guts into mush?

Peter realized, looking at you up close, you appeared perfectly clean and preserved. You didn’t reek like a dead body. The earthy scent on your cold skin wasn’t too unpleasant either. It smelled herbal. Floral, even. Your smooth skin lacked any signs of rot. Aside from one or two lesions revealing rib or arm bones. Kinda...freakishly cool. The surface of your skin looked see-through, with veins weaving underneath like intricate wiring.

A little spooky, sure. But not all that scary to look at, surprisingly enough. Not like Peter expected, anyway. As you snuggled closer into Peter’s body, he began to realize how oddly affectionate you were. Very out of character, for a zombie. You squeaked an unintelligible noise, attempting to communicate. But you just couldn’t form the words. Maybe your speech capabilities fizzled out after years and years of unending silence.

Peter creased his brows, lowering his defenses and calming himself down. Another thirty seconds passed. His brains remained intact, and you hadn’t made him your next meal. He pulled the earbud from his ear, hooking them around his neck and pressing pause on the Walkman. Craning your neck back, your glassy eyes met Peter’s own. You grinned so big and joyful, gleaming the innocence of a pure-of-heart, golden retriever. Despite being totally bizarre, Peter found your sweetness...sorta...weirdly cute.

“Uhmmm…hi? Hey. Uh-why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He laughed, a little uneasy.

Maybe your affection stemmed from something simple. If Peter were locked up in a cramped pod for so many years, he’d be ecstatic if someone finally freed him. You were probably just uber thankful he’d broken you outta that pod thingy. And you showed gratitude through touching, since you couldn’t exactly flurry him with thank yous. He could accept that. Sure. For now.

The walkie hanging from his belt droned a buzz, and Scott’s voice called out. Peter finally reached for it, maneuvering between his body and yours. Your arms stayed around his neck, your body hanging like a stubborn monkey’s from a tree.

“Peter? Do you copy? Peter, are you there, man? Talk to us. Please. Should we send someone over to assist?” Scott asked, his voice itching with alarm. “Yeah! Yeah, nah. Uh-hey, Scotty! Hey, I’m here. I’m oka-...dude, it’s fine. Nothin’ to worry about. Seriously. But…I do kinda have a situation here? Over.” Peter replied.

Scott exhaled a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. In the crackling background of the walkie, Peter heard Jean’s voice. She asked, “Did he say over ?” Followed by a series of hushed chuckles. Peter smirked to himself.

“Oh! Oh my god. Thank goodness, Pete. We were all getting pretty worried about you over here. What’s going on? Are you still at the lab? You said there was a situation. What kind of situation? Did that old place finally cave in?” Scott asked. Many, many questions.

Peter heard even more frantic, muffled conversations in the background. While he couldn’t understand them, he recognized the voices. The entire team had gathered, just to make sure he made it out alive. Awww. How sweet. They were worried about lil ol’ him? If Peter hadn’t had the bejesus scared out of him not even five minutes ago, his heart would’ve melted.

“Heyyyy, guys! Uhhhh…soooo…I might’ve found, like, a zombie? No joke. Like, a real zombie. But it’s not tryna kill me. It’s-” Peter paused, raising a brow. You fluttered your lashes, giving him a coquettish look, “Bro, I think it’s makin’ eyes at me. Legit. Kinda weird, right? Definitely not what I was expecting. But it’s totally fine. I got it all under control now. Over.”

A long silence fell amongst the walkie’s noise. Until Scott finally responded in monotone.

“Did we hear you wrong, or did you just say you found a zombie?” He asked, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. As if expecting Peter to say - Psych! Fooled ya!

Peter parted his lips to confirm. But the abrupt tickle of a chilly kiss on his neck silenced him. You stood up on your bare toes, giggling sweetly. Across his hot skin, you peppered your chapped lips. Instantly, Peter froze in place again. Shudders rang through his body. He reached for one of your arms, tugging you to try and pull you off him.

“Uhm. Y’know what? It’s no big deal. B-But yeah, it’s a zombie fer sure.” Peter tugged your arm with more insistence, urging you to let go. But you persisted, giggling into the crook of his neck, “Like I said. No worries here. It’s not like I’m in da- haaah okayokayokay-”

Your feather light kisses became soft, kitten licks. Flicking Peter’s flesh with your slimy tongue, you squealed, tickled pink. Peter jolted, shivers sizzling down his spine. He tilted his neck to the side, wincing. Over the walkie, he heard Hank’s gruff voice.

“Peter! It’s Hank-” The blue beast said, as if Peter couldn’t already tell based on his growly tone, “Are you a hundred percent sure the undead creature isn’t dangerous?” He asked, buzzing through a scratch of interference.

Coldness slathered and swirled Peter’s neck in slow circles. Fluttering his eyes closed, he replied, “N-Not dangerous. Ohhhh. Definitely not dangerous. No danger here. All good. Over.” Again, he tried to pull you off.

Your discolored arms tightened their hold around his neck and over his shoulders. Cooing noises dripped from your tongue like honey, so sugary sweet. You swiped his skin with your tongue, nuzzling your cold nose into the heated crevice of his neck. Pressing your body closer into his, you squirmed, littering him with zombie kisses.

Peter tensed, apprehensive of your affections. He didn’t want to be too harsh or aggressive towards you. Worried that any sign of conflict might make you snap. For all he knew, you might go bonkers and brain hungry. Really, he should’ve gotten it over with and pushed you away. Before you took things a little too far. And you did. Your teeth sank into his neck, lightly nibbling his flesh. As you pressed yourself even closer into his proximity, your breasts - covered only by a ragged crop top - met the swell of his broad chest. WOOOOOAH! Talk about twisted! Sure, okay, maybe your bites turned him on, like, a little. Flooding his body with a pleasant, all-over shudder of pleasure. But he couldn’t just fold for a zombie, could he? That’d be disgusting!

It’d be gross, right?

A subconscious desire in the recesses of his lonesome mind told him he wanted - no, needed - the attention. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone like this since the pogs fad. Easy, now, Peter! Down, boy.

But…shit. As much as he wanted to give in, he couldn’t. Not for a monster. A living corpse, left cooking in a secluded pod for a decade. Cloaked in discoloration and held together by expertly crafted stitching. Not entirely mindless, but so dense, you hadn’t the forethought to ask - “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?” No. Instead, you went after him the moment you saw him, showering him in bubbly, zombie lovin’.

He…shouldn’t find that hot. His fingers shouldn’t be tightening around the walkie, and his groin shouldn’t feel as scorching as it does. Oh, man. Could Peter be any more doomed? He’d have to be mad desperate - way out of his mind - to reciprocate your affection. Raising the walkie again, he cleared his throat.

“Hiya, Beastie. A-Acutally, I think they-...the zombie really, really likes me.” Peter added for no reason at all. You nibbled him a little harder, and he winced again.

“Well, now! That’s good then, isn’t it? Better than the alternative, I’d say! If at all possible, Peter, you should bring the creature with you. I’d like to look it over. Maybe run some tests. Figure out what brought it to life! This could be the secret to reversing brain death!” Hank chimed, excited.

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course Hank wanted to poke and prod at you like some little, lab rat. He opened his mouth to respond, but choked before he could get a word in. Your dull teeth clamped roughly into his neck. Peter braced a free hand on your hip, his thumb digging into the cool, exposed flesh there. Now, suspicion began to dawn on him.

You could be a clever, little zombie. Capable of luring Peter in with flirtatious wiles and sweet touches. Once he let his guard down, what if you planned on tearing into his guts? Well played, smarty pants zombie. Well played. But Peter caught onto your little game. You couldn’t get anything past him.

Instead of slurping his blood like a 7-Eleven slushie, or ripping your nails into his taut muscles; you suckled his skin lovingly. Pulling tiny hickies into his neck. Squealing and giggling in that girlish fashion, playful with every nibble. Peter gulped, biting his lip between his teeth. No way in hell he allowed a zombie to give him hickies.

…Except he did. So what? No harm in it, right?

“Y-Yeah. Sure. I’m good. Great. Just hangin’ out with my new zombie buddy. It’s totally not gonna eat my brains. Like, zero percent chance I’m gonna die an ugly, zombie death. So, y’know, Beastie, don’t lose any sleep over it.” Peter responded, before following it up with a condescending, “Over.”

On the walkie line, Peter heard a series of groans and faint giggles. Followed by Hank’s voice, as he passed the walkie back to Scott. The X-Men’s laser eyed leader sighed, his tone unamused.

“Whatever, Peter. Just…just hurry up, will you? And bring those documents over for Hank. Thanks.”

Peter tried, and failed to keep his composure. A cutie pie zombie kept macking on him like a lovesick puppy, and he had no clue what to make of it. You sucked more sloppy, violet marks into his neck. Tugging his skin with your teeth and nibbling like you couldn’t get enough of him. Peter’s skin flared up in cold creeps, as you trailed your chilly lips to his shoulder. Pulling his jacket and the collar of his shirt aside, you spoiled him in more undead affection.

“Gotcha. Copy that. Ov- mmm -” Peter whispered a moan, replying with a rushed, “Overandout.”

He clipped the walkie back onto his belt. Attempting once more to pry you off him, Peter gave your arm a strong tug. A little more forceful this time around. As you finally dislodged yourself from his neck, Peter took a few steps back. Avoiding any stray cables on the floor.

Now, with some distance between the two of you, he cleared his throat. Peter brought a hand to his neck, grazing fingers over the love bites you left behind. Tiny splotches of purple pooled with offsets of scarlet. Faint teeth marks left grooves in his skin. He hissed.

Giving you the freedom to pepper him with hickies might not have been the smartest idea. Hopefully, you didn’t infect him with some sick, zombie disease. One with the potential to end humanity as he knew it. He couldn’t cope with the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders.

You gawked up at him with those big, adoring eyes. Excitedly, you squealed, hopping towards him with your eager arms outstretched. Hoping to pull Peter into another close hug, just so you could litter him in more nibbly, love bites. He raised an abrupt hand, maintaining distance. Peter cleared his throat again. His cheeks burned hot, doused in bright pink.

Totally not fair, the way an overly affectionate zombie got him blushing.

“L-Listen. Uh. Yer sweet, but-” Peter started. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted down your body. He observed the stitches sewn into your neck and limbs. His dark chocolate eyes followed the rips and tears in your skimpy shirt. The flimsy garment revealed a tiny peek of your - admittedly pretty - breasts. And Peter swallowed, his throat running dry, “Uhhh…you can’t keep doin’ this, okay? The-” He wiggled his long fingers, gesturing to his neck, “The hickie thing. If yer gonna come with me, we gotta lay down some ground rules. Alright? You get me, babe?”

You tilted your head to the side, blinking slowly. Gazing at Peter with a look that told him you didn’t understand. But you didn’t seem to give a shit either way. You reached for one of his hands, a dazzled smile curling into your lips. Purring a candied noise of affection, you brought his hand to your cheek and nuzzled his palm. Your lips gently kissed each fingertip. Peter pulled a face, knitting his silver brows.

“Why’re you so damn-” He shook his head, “Whatever. Listen. Can you, like, chill out? No biting, you understand?” Peter paused to make a chomping gesture, clicking his teeth. But this only made you giggle. Which, unfortunately, he found super infectious.

Peter chuckled, scoffing playfully, “Stop that! I’m totally serious! No biting. No licking. No kissing. Like this. You see this?” He gestured to the hickies on his neck, their trail leading under his shirt, “No more ‘a that, you feel me? I dunno how I’m gonna explain this to the crew back home. They’re gonna think we got, like, freaky ‘er somethin’. Yeah. Can you imagine that? Like I’d ever fool around with-”

Fluttering your off colored lashes, you tilted your head to the other side. You parted your chapped lips, squealing as you edged his fingertips into your mouth. Pressing the salty pads to your bitter tongue.

“Oh! EUCK! Gross! Don’t-” Peter scowled, jerking his hand from you in less than a millisecond. With a horrified look, he observed his fingers as if they were germ-infested specimens, “Yer a real weird one, babe.”

His guard fell. While Peter kept his perplexed eyes on his fingers, you leapt forward. Burying your face deep into the fabric of his shirt, you squealed. Gleeful and bubbly. Peter groaned, only half-annoyed. He made a move to push you off him again. But your precious, little purring noises changed his mind. Peter couldn’t find it in himself to put his foot down.

Turns out he had a weakness. Cute, overly affectionate zombies. Who woulda thought?

Whatever. Peter had wayyy more important things on his plate. He knew he should gather up those folders he dropped, along with anything else he lost during his freak out session. Once he did, he needed to get the two of you out of this dingy, old lab asap.

“ Mmmmm …n-need…” You hummed your first word, before squealing, “Loooooove~!” Your voice strained, rattling like you’d been pounding down cigarettes by the plenty.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he let his sizeable hands fall to your hips, “Di-...wait a sec, did you just talk? Holy shit! You can talk?” Peter asked, dumbfounded, “Woah! Wow. Uh…so…you got a name? Can you at least tell me yer name?”

Your case file hadn’t listed your name, leaving you reduced to a number. Pretty messed up, if anyone were to ask Peter. Either you still didn’t understand him, or you couldn’t remember your own name. Instead of giving him an answer, you nuzzled your face in his chest. You tittered, so soft and smitten, your ragged voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Cold, tiny zombie hands tickled the back of his neck, raking gentle nails down his torso.

Standing on your toes, you connected your cool lips with his neck all over again. You kissed your previous love bites, as if doing so would heal them entirely. Ashamed of himself for letting it happen, Peter stifled a groan.

"Y-...You don't remember yer name, do you?" He mumbled. Peter's strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in, "That is...a seriously messed up situation. But, hey, I'm here fer you. Don't worry, 'kay? We'll get you to a safe place, and you can start over there. Sound good?" His caring nature shined through. But male horniness abruptly overshadowed it, as your wet tongue tickled his skin.

A guilty part of him, overrun with sympathy, felt bad for you. Those scientists hadn’t treated you like the victim of an unfortunate accident. More like a toy. Meant to be ripped apart, played with, and abandoned. It seemed wrong to perceive you in a frisky light. But then again…you wanted love. You may as well have been begging for it.

Love. One of the first words you spoke since your undead coma. Not that much of a surprise, if he thought about it. As a science experiment, loneliness probably consumed you. Even before your decade-long slumber. In a way, Peter understood. He too felt haunted by a longing for affection for far, far too long. In his mind, that made the two of you kindred spirits.

Ahhhh …dammit. Peter just couldn’t resist you and your sweet wiles anymore. His self control steadily slipped from his weakened grasp.

“ Mmmmm! Wa-....waaaant…love~! Neeeed… mmm …lo-....love~!” You squeaked, your cold tongue curling over a fresh, purple mark.

“C’mon, baby. We can’t-...you really have to stop this. We gotta head back to base, like, now. Everyone’s waitin’ on me, and I-” Peter muttered, and you pulled back. Gazing at him with that mystified, doe eyed look. Like you saw the beauty of the cosmos in him, and him alone. Your lips sparkled, wet from your lovin’. Peter clutched your hips firmly. His jeans seemed...somehow tighter all of a sudden, “Would ya stop lookin’ at me like that?”

“Looooooove~?” You cooed, your voice taking on a lustrous, but groggy tone.

“Yeah. I know. But…” Peter sighed, letting his hands feel up and down your curvy sides, “Yer gonna get me in soooo much trouble. But, fine. You win, okay? What kinda love are we talkin’ 'bout here, babe? You wanna hug? Want me to-uhm…to plant one on you? Is that it?”

You perked up then. Peter took it as a sign you understood him, more than you let on before. He arched a brow. At this point, why even hold back? Because you were dead? So what! Who ever said zombies couldn’t be smokin’ hot?

If he messed around with you just a little, no one would ever know. Which…made the concept even more enticing. You could be his little secret. An affectionate secret he’d forever bury in the ground. In place of the grave those scientists never gave you.

Peter fluttered his eyes closed, finally giving in to your closeness entirely. Lowering his big hands, he grabbed your ass. His palms squeezed over the torn, booty shorts you wore. Never did he imagine - upon exploring some horror movie, science lab - he’d feel up a cutie pie corpse’s plump bottom by the end. What a way to end a mission. Life worked in some wildly bizarre ways sometimes.

Kissing a zombie? Not as gross as he thought it’d be.

Okay. Maybe for, like, half a second. But the earthy taste on Peter’s lips didn’t faze him much. Once he pushed past the initial ick, he embraced you fully. Peter decided he didn’t give a flying fuck how unsanitary zombie smooches might be. Uncoordinated lip motions lured him in further. Pinkish teeth grazing his bottom lip between kisses. Soon enough, they turned sloppy, and Peter found himself frenching the living dead.

Zombie make out session. An experience he hadn’t planned to check off his bucket list. But now, he could.

One of his hands gripped your ass. While his other held your face and pulled you in for more tongue action. In the midst of swapping spit, you sought every opportune moment to nibble him. Peter couldn’t help but be super into it. You mewled softly, giggling when he gave your booty a hard squeeze. Chuckling, he parted from your lips to look over your greenish face. Your eyes bulged so big and wide, pupils an off-grey color and impossibly huge. Wonderstruck by his very existence. Darting down to capture your lips again, Peter stumbled forward. He guided your body towards the operating table, knocking you into it. Your hips collided with the edge, causing a loud, vibrating clang. The rough motion worried him enough, he stopped sucking face just to confirm you were alright. Peter feverishly kissed your cold lips, his hands exploring your body. Feeling stitched skin under his fingers.

You pulled from him with a joyous squeal, but Peter followed. Confused as to why you stopped, until you dove for the untarnished side of his neck. Dull flats of your teeth chomped straight into his flesh, grinding a little too roughly for comfort. Peter winced with a start, ceasing his love on your bootylicious bottom.

“N-No! Noooo! Hey, baby, look at me.” Peter snapped his fingers to get your attention. Not that he wanted to be so demanding. But you needed to understand his boundaries, before you tore into his flesh and guzzled his blood. Instantly, you reacted, retracting your teeth from his neck. You moved to make eye contact, and Peter fixed you with a soft gaze, “What’d I tell you, huh? Look, it’s not that I can’t appreciate some neckin’. 'Cuz I totally can. And I really dig it. Like, a lot. But you can’t be munchin’ on me! Really freaks me out when you do that.”

You angled your head again, curious. Doe eyes gaped at him with fluttering lashes, innocently confused, “ Mmm. Giv-....Giiiiive…love?” You croaked, pawing at Peter’s chest over his shirt, acting so needy.

He couldn’t begin to understand what you meant, or what you imagined love to be in your head. Were you really so desperate to bite him? Or, were you asking for something else? Wanton, bedroom eyes dawned your pretty face. Plush, ashy lips parting. You pawed his chest again, your blunt nails scraping across his shirt. In your desperation to communicate your-uhm…needs, you jutted your hips forward into his jeans. “L-L…Lo-” You started, throaty voice oozing innocence. Though, the look in your lidded eyes betrayed said innocence, “Loooooove. Need. P-Please?” 

Peter’s eyes popped open, as realization dawned on him. Oh. You meant you needed-... Ah. He understood now. The unreasonably cute, living corpse he found - dormant in a pod for, like, a decade - wanted to bump uglies. Great. Awesome. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? Fulfill your unbridled desire? C’monnnn. Didn’t boning undead cuties come with any moral implications? If he took you to pound town, would that make him a necrophiliac? Peter really didn’t wanna be labeled a necrophiliac.

But hypothetically, what if he admitted his own desperation to himself? He always fumbled every time he tried to step up his game and woo the ladies. Not like he had any game to begin with. And tonight, there you were. Practically begging for him to take you. He should acknowledge the fact that, yeah - no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise - he found you very hot. So, ludicrously hot. Zombie traits and all.

And regardless of how many times he second guessed himself - at the end of the day - his dick didn’t have any qualms about zombie hanky panky.

Peter’s hand traveled up, thumbs curiously tracing the rough lining of your neck stitches. Before toying with the rusted bolts an inch or two above. Testing if you could even feel it. You didn’t react, and Peter wondered if scientists used those bolts to revive you. Did they awaken you Frankenstein style, with sharp surges of electricity? Or did you come to life by other means? A glowing, reagent liquid, maybe?

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Peter tugged the front of your loose top down. A pair of off-green, zombie melons jiggled freely. Stitches circled each breast, and Peter may or may not have thought they looked hot as fuck like that. Call him inhumane, but he really dug your whole monstrous babe aesthetic.

His hands kneaded the softest pair of undead knockers he ever felt, making you squirm under his touch. Peter grinned, pleased with every choked squeak leaping off your lips. He flitted his dark gaze up to your face, then back down to your breasts; back and forth, back and forth. Admiring the delicate expressions you made, your precious face scrunched in pleasure.

“Damn. Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are? ‘Specially like this.” Peter chuckled, pinching and twisting your perky nipples, “Bet those bad guys never did. Sucks fer them. Yer a total babe. And sooo fuckin’ cute. Makes me want you all fer myself.”

Sooooo…about your…cooch situation. Yeah. Uh…Peter might’ve been somewhat worried about that. Taking your condition into consideration, he felt himself overcome with hesitance. Fearful that your-uh…flower, so to speak, may have withered away after a decade of darkness.

What about diseases? The thought made Peter squeamish. Even though you appeared and smelled relatively clean, you still hadn’t showered in a long freakin’ time. Then again, protection existed. Not to mention, you were so, so needy and cute. Your body looked undeniably amazing, and felt so soft. Fuck it. With some reluctance, Peter willed himself to test the waters. For your sake, but also for his own. Just to make up for the years he spent wishing he could get laid again.

A win-win for you both.

Tugging your tiny shorts down your smooth thighs - finding a little struggle along the way, since the meat of your thighs proved an obstacle - Peter snuck his fingers under the hem of your worn panties. The millisecond before his fingers met the supple curtains of your pussy, he second guessed himself for the zillionth time. Peter’s subconscious doubt pestered him enough, he almost withdrew his hand completely.

But the precious whimper you made gave him enough encouragement to keep going. His thick digits cautiously braved forbidden, undead territory. Finding an overabundance of cool, silky wetness between your lips. Peter swallowed hard, knitting his brows as he scoured for your clit.

“Jesus, baby.” He muttered. Judging by your bubbly squeak of delight, Peter assumed he found what he’d been venturing for. Leaning slightly forward into your proximity, Peter circled your stiff, little nub, “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“G-...G-....Gooooood! Mo-....More? More!” You mewled, clenching fists into his shirt. Mindlessly, you canted your hips, seeking his crotch. “Hey, it’s whatever you want, pretty.” He mused with a smirk, voice tender, “Relaaaax. I gotcha. I gotcha. ”

His fingers drew downwards, teasing for a beat before cruising into your silken entrance. Lush, deathly cold walls welcomed his digits in a loving hug. Beckoning Peter to sink them in deeper. You held his shirt like a lifeline, moaning an angelic, rattle of a noise. Pulling you closer into his warm body, Peter lowered his head to your shoulder. Thin strands of silver hair tickled your cheek. His thick fingers curled, hooking into a cushiony spot inside you. Your near-empty eyes saw hot flashes of light.

“L-LOOOVE~!” You whimpered through hitched cries.

“Mhm?” Peter laughed, impishly nibbling his lip, “Feel that lovin’? Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

Keeping you distracted for a temporary moment, Peter dotted your neck in warm kisses. Subtly easing his fingers in and out of your velvet pussy at a quicker pace. Your knees buckled, trembling the faster he moved. Until his motions became brutal. With a perfect curl, speedy digits rammed repeatedly into that spongy spot you loved. Your sugary sweet, unintelligible whines rose in volume, as your sticky, little, zombie cunt quivered.

You gnawed powerful bites as you came, your teeth digging into Peter’s neck. But this time, he allowed it. He forced himself to muscle through the pain, holding your shuddering body close, “ Shhhh. Shhh. It’s cool, baby. It’s - ahh - it’s cool. That's it.” He cooed with a careful tone, stroking the back of your head and threading fingers through your ragged hair.

Easing his fingers from your cunt, he double checked the digits, making sure nothing seemed off. Your release felt thicker and stickier than any living person’s, but didn’t have much of a scent. While usually he looooved to taste the aftermath of a total cutie’s orgasm, Peter opted not to. Sure, your wetness didn’t appear radioactive or hazardous. But the thought of guzzling zombie honey put him off a little bit.

“G-....Goood?” You ogled Peter with half-lidded, glassy eyes, your lips parting in an irresistible giggle.

Peter bit his tongue. Alright. Maybe he…could give it a shot. Just this once. Zombie love liquor couldn’t be deadly or anything, could it? Disease-ridden, maybe. But Peter knew a hyper-intelligent doctor who could whip up a cure for most ailments. Guess it didn’t matter anymore. By the time Peter second guessed himself yet again, he’d already sucked his fingers clean. A bitter thickness lingered on his taste buds. Peter salivated at the thought of drinking down more.

“ Mmmm … mhm …not bad.” He chuckled, lips humming around his fingers, "I'd go fer seconds." He added with a wink, making you laugh.

Yikes. If Hank only knew how reckless Peter acted in the presence of some zombified cutie. He’d lock him up in the infirmary and run a thousand tests on him. Just to make damn sure Peter hadn’t contracted anything lethal.

Politely pushing you off him, Peter turned his head. He double checked the perimeter for any signs of life, despite the lab being totally desolate. Hopefully Summers hadn’t sent anyone after him, since the speedster took way too long returning to base. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled his hard length from the fly. Almost immediately, you gasped in elation. Tickled squeals danced on your discolored tongue. Thick, and flushed a dark scarlet, Peter’s cock throbbed in his hand.

"I'm guessin' you like what you see?" He snickered, giving his dick a firm stroke, "I like what I'm seein' too...if you couldn't tell." Every word Peter said, every charming smile he gave, seemed to attract you considerably. Drawing more kittenish giggles from you.

With your freezing, zombie mitts, you ungracefully reached for him. Cold fingers squeezed his cock, stroking in a clumsy motion. Peter drew in a sharp breath, the cool sensation of your hands arousing his nerves. Even if your hand to gland combat lacked any skill, it felt damn awesome to be touched like this again. He stepped forward, his giant hands grabbing your hips. You played with him as much as your little, unbeating heart desired. Tugging his burning hardness with an overzealous grip.

You tried lowering yourself to the floor, your mouth falling open, tongue gliding over your lip. But Peter instinctively stopped you. His hands darted to your shoulders, pulling you into a standing position. He preferred if you didn’t take your biting addiction downstairs. Visitations of the oral variety were closed to any undead visitors. At least, for right now.

“Y’know, I don’t usually like goin’ all the way on the first date.” He spoke, fishing his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, “Like, call me an old soul 'er whatever.” Peter worked quickly, pulling a condom out of his wallet. He slipped the latex over his length, “But I can make an exception. Just fer you, cutie. But this stays between us, yeah?”

You nodded, pushing yourself up onto the dusty, operating table. Peter cringed, curling his lip out of concern for you. This couldn’t be sanitary. Dragging his attention from the filth under your bottom, you parted your knees. With your body angled backwards, you pointed eagerly at your panty-clad pussy. Soaked and dripping under the thin fabric. Peter’s breath hitched.

“Looooooove~? M-Ma…make?” You cooed, scooting a little off the edge of the table. As if tempting him to give in and fuck you already, you wiggled your ass. Like a beautiful, monstrous display of stitches and postmortem skin. All for the speedster's taking.

"I-I mean-uh...sure. If you really want me to. What kinda guy would I be to turn you down?" He awkwardly joked, fighting his nerves.

Peter pushed a strong hand against your inner thigh. Warm on your deathly cold flesh. He pulled your thin panties to the side, teasing your glossy slit with the head of his cock. You whimpered, cute noises bubbling in the back of your throat. Edging you for a beat more, he slid the teary eyed tip over your clit. Before sinking his length through your walls. Inch by pulsating inch, he bottomed out in a flash, tip kissing your cervix.

“ Wohhhhh, fuck.” He groaned. A new kind of coolness enveloped his cock, plushy and soft. Hooking your stitched legs over Peter’s shoulders, you tilted your body. Inviting him to submerge as deeply as your tight cunt would allow, “Oh, baby…yer so-...ah, fuuuuck. ”

"G……..Goo-......Gooood~!" You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Your strangled voice erupted in a mantra of lustful squeals.

By some act of divine intervention, Peter could feel the swollen, unyielding lusciousness of your pussy. Walls wringing his cock, like you wanted to suck him dry of everything he had. He swiftly rutted into your cunt, hard enough to make you bounce against the table. Peter’s sluggish eyes followed your breasts as they bobbed. Titties jiggling with such a soft, sexy whirl; He felt his cock twitch inside you.

Leaning down, Peter loomed over you, the rough fabrics of his clothes sliding along your bare skin. He kissed you tenderly, a little heedless. In the midst of fondling your precious, stitched breasts, Peter's hot palm curiously pressed against your chest. Feeling...nothing. No heartbeat, no blood flow. A little spooked, he refocused his attention. Playing with your bouncing, zombie titties again.

"Feels so-...you feel so good, holy fuck -" He moaned, his voice catching in his throat, "So pretty. L- ah ...love how tight you are." Playfully, Peter lost himself in the moment. He pulled a nipple between his teeth, suckling one of your Frankenstein tits, "Loooove these zombie boobies. Hah -oooohhh, shit-"

Lying in slumber for a decade must have left you majorly sensitive. In just a few more, aggressive, bunny humps; you came again. Hypnotic delight burst through your core, pushing you to the point of tears. Your pussy fluttered, sticky wetness gushing around his cock. Reaching up to link your arms around his neck, you clawed little etchings into his skin.

“M-Mmmmmooore~! More, mmm- ...more~!!” You pleaded, coaxing Peter to drill you with all the energy he carried. Not to toot his own horn, but - little did you know - he harbored enough energy for a hundred men. And then some.

"You w- fuck -want more? Want more, baby? God, yer gonna make me-" His voice wavered between moans, "G-Gonna make me lose it-"

Peter’s mischievous eyes met yours, as you gave him that doe eyed look he couldn’t fucking resist. Sharp jabs of his cock sped to a blur, slamming into your cunt in a brutal display of his strength. Keeping himself balanced, hands pressed to the table on either side of you; Peter showed no mercy. Abusing your precious, syrupy walls with a ruthless pace. But not fast enough that he’d tear his means of protection. A harsh surge of heavenly pain flared up inside you, as he tore into your pussy and bashed your cervix.

"LOOOOOVE~! Ah~! Peeeetur~!" In a moment of post orgasmic clarity, you called his name. Slurred, and barely recognizable. How'd you even know? Had you picked it up from his walkie conversations? Damn, his zombie buddy's more perceptive than he thought. Peter snickered, finding your pronunciation ridiculous. But the cute, needy sound of his name on your lips triggered something.

" ’Mgonnacum- ” Peter whined, his brutal pace more inconsistent and sloppy, “Gonna-...feels too good o h fuck oh fuCK -” 

A pearly white burst of thick heat stuffed the latex of the condom full, threatening to make it pop. Burying his nose deep in the crook of your neck, Peter moaned. Guttural whines ripped from his chest, drying his throat. Panting - not from exhaustion, but overstimulation - Peter loosened his muscles. In mellow, post nut bliss, he almost overlooked the sizzle of static buzzing from his walkie.

“Peter? Peter, answer me right now. So help me god. Everyone’s worried sick about you! Do you read me? Peter, I said, do you read me? Please!” Scott pleaded through a mix of agitation and genuine distress.

 Peter drew out a long, hard groan. Pushing himself up a little, he fumbled lazily for his walkie. A sluggish grin curled into his dimples, as he nibbled his lip and winked down at you. His eyes half lidded and hanging heavy.

 “Mmmm…’M fine. ‘M fine. ‘M fine.” He chuckled, overcompensating for himself. He knew he’d be in mega trouble with the crew by this point, “It’s all-uh…all good. Jeez, Summers. Did ya think I was dead ‘er somethin’? Haha…” Peter drolled, his tone slower than usual. He withdrew his softening cock from inside you, watching while you squirmed. On your back, you appeared a blissful, fucked out mess. Ultimately satisfied. Mission accomplished, “Don’t worry so much, bro. I was only takin’ my new, zombie buddy out to-uh…tooooooo…an arcade. Yeah. An arcade.”

On the other end of the line, a silence fell. Peter filled it with an, “O-Over.” to compensate again.

 “...You took the zombie…to an arcade?” Scott responded, an edge of irritated disbelief in his tone, “Peter, are you out of your damn mind? Do you not realize how much of a risk that is? I can’t even-...your priority for this mission was to retrieve those documents for Hank. Doesn’t it seem irresponsible to be dragging an unknown, undead creature around a public place? I can’t even believe you!” He heard Scott scoff, “Now, will you please return already with those documents? We’re all waiting on you. Bring the zombie too.”

“Uhhh…yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Dunno what came over me. Sure. Okie dokes. Lemme, uh-” Peter spoke, playfully fighting you off. You reached for his neck, trying to pull him back down for post-sex cuddles, “Lemme grab ‘em. They’re goin’ hog wild with skee-ball right now. Crazy, right? They scored, like, sooooo many points. You should see all the tickets we got, man. We could totally get one ‘a those jumbo prizes. Say, Scotty, do you want, like, a giant Mighty Mouse?”

“Maximoff.” Scott replied sternly, without a beat of hesitation. His frustration oozed through the speakers, and Peter could feel guilt itching at his conscience.

In the background, Peter overheard someone - though he couldn’t guess who - mutter a, “Is Mighty Mouse even a thing anymore?” Oh. Once Peter returned, he’d be in for it. Royally fucked. Figuratively, and, thankfully, literally. In the short, momentary instance of silence between walkie communication; Peter disposed of the condom and straightened himself out. He disappeared for a millisecond, snatching a fresh towel from some luxury bath shop all the way in Paris. Dousing the cloth in warm water, he wiped you clean upon his ultra speedy arrival. Before helping you redress, making you look…somewhat presentable. 

“Fine. I totally get it, okay? Look, man. I’m sorry. But can ya really blame me fer wantin' to hang after the experience I just had? Doesn’t matter. Be there in a flash. M-Maybe don’t tell Hank, though. If you can hel-” Peter rambled sheepishly, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He stepped backwards, extending a hand for you to take. 

“Pietro Maximoff, I am beside myself with you!” Hank started, clearly agitated, cutting Peter off.

Peter groaned, mumbling quietly to himself as you took his hand, “He told Hank. He did it. He fuckin’ told him. Shit. I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.” In a motion to guide you off the operating table, Peter pulled you forward by your hand.

“I have several questions. Why would you bring an undead creature to an arcade? What were your motivations behind taking the creature out, on a recreational activity? The potential danger or damage to the arcade and its patrons is far too high. And, furthermore, Peter, is there any scientific value to observing a zombie around arcade equipment? I understand you have this insatiable need to act out, but this is ridiculous! It is our duty, as members of the X-Men, to protect humanity from all threats. Including potential zombie related incidents at public arcades. Now then, please return the specimen immediately for further observation.” Hank ranted on and on and on and on-

A noise, like fabric tearing, cut uncomfortably through the air. Weak stitching around your elbow ripped loose, and Peter pulled your forearm clean off. Hank’s tirade met an abrupt end, as a blood curdling scream rocked the entire room. “Peter? Peter?? What’s happened? Peter, are you alright?” Hank panicked over the walkie.

Past the edge of terrified, shocked to the point of nearly pissing himself; Peter screamed. He wiggled his hand, trying to let go of your lone arm. But your hand held his tightly, your grip refusing to ease up. Once he finally freed himself, he expected your arm to drop to the floor. But your little fingers moved, crawling like spider legs. A zombie’s dislodged arm creeped up Peter’s shoulder over his jacket. Some real, Evil Dead kinda shit. He smacked at it, shouting like a housewife frightened by a mere mouse.

“YEAH!I’mfineI’mgreatI’mawesomesorryit’snothing.” Peter responded, rushed and unclear, “O-Over?” He cringed, scowling as you hopped off the operating table to retrieve your missing arm.

“...Pardon?” Hank asked, tone puzzled. Peter swallowed, shuddering while you pulled your freakish, deadite arm off his shoulder, “Are you…sure you’re alright, Peter? What’s going on? You’ve been acting awful strange tonight. Is there something on your mind?”

A lot. Peter had so much on his mind. Like, the totally real fact that he boned an undead, Frankenstein babe, for one.

“Uhm. It’s-...it’s nothing. Seriously, don’t even worry, Beastie. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Just-uhm…lab’s still-...there was some thunder, and the building-uh-” Peter nervously rambled, struggling to find his words, “Over.”

Another pause drew out long enough for Peter to realize his mistake. He cursed, smacking himself on the side of the head. How could he be scatterbrained, to forget his own lies in a matter of seconds? He had a feeling, deep in his gut; Hank would rip him a new one tonight once he got back. “...The lab? Peter…didn’t you just tell us you were at an arcade?” Hank asked, reasonably suspicious.

Peter’s voice broke as he replied, “I mEAN-” He cleared his throat, “Uhhh-...heh. I-I ran back! Forgot-uh...there was somethin’ I forgot. Like I said, doesn’t matter. I’m totally fine! I’m juuust peachy! Hang tight. I’ll be right there. Over and out.” Peter took a second to collect himself, clipping his walkie to his belt. He silenced the device, ignoring any further questions from Hank. Subconsciously, Peter took a step back as you reached for him again. His veins vibrated with a buzz of adrenaline. With your arm dismembered, you moved abruptly forward. Nuzzling your face into Peter’s chest, the same way you had all night. Still just as smitten with him. Groggy purrs rumbled in your throat.

Rolling his eyes, Peter patted your head, smoothing out your ragged, messy hair, “What am I gonna do with you? Yer nothin’ but trouble, y’know that?” He teased, pinching one of your cold cheeks, “Whaddya say we get outta here already? But I gotta make a couple ‘a pit stops. And you gotta behave yerself. Don’t get any funny ideas about eatin’ anybody.” Peter wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close. Pointing at you with an accusatory finger. 

You tilted your head, confused again. Peter really couldn’t get enough of that cute, clueless look. Hank and Scott had no idea what they were talkin’ about. His zombie buddy? Totally harmless. You’d never even hurt a fly.

Okay. First order of business. Find a Mighty Mouse plush, just to really sell his arcade story. After that, he planned on snatching you some nicer clothes. Anything to protect your modesty. Thirdly, Peter wanted to teach himself some gnarly makeup tricks. Cover up his hickies. Yeah. No sweat! He could do all that in a flash.

Oh. And late night pancakes. Peter refused to skimp out on those. He’d been craving them all night, and his body desperately needed to replenish its energy. Surely, the gang back home wouldn’t mind. After everything, they totally wouldn’t be supremely pissed and fed up with Peter’s bullshit. And the waitress serving at whatever diner he picked? She wouldn’t bat an eye at some undead, zombified customer, would she?

Why's he even kidding himself?

Gathering Hank’s files, Peter tucked them under his arm. He zipped around in search of whatever other knick-knacks he lost, including his fallen flashlight. Stepping towards you, Peter brought his earbuds to your ears. He exchanged the tape in his Walkman for another, aiming to keep you entertained with music while he traveled at superspeed. As soon as the tune graced your ears, you leapt in place. Squeaking a surprise chirp. Your shoulders bunched, and you darted your hazy eyes around.

“Hey, easy, easy-” Peter reassured, cranking the volume down low so you could still hear him, “It’s just music, baby. It’s nice, right? You like it? You like-uh…you like the Monster Mash? Crypt Kickers? Bobby Pickett?” He gestured with his hands, suggestively raising his brows, “We had a graveyard smash, didn't we, eh?” You simply stared at him, clueless as usual. Huffing, Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Seriously. What am I gonna do with you?”

You clutched your dislodged arm tight, cradling the appendage close. Throwing a quick glance your way, Peter shook his head. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and braced a warm hand at the back of your neck. The few seconds before he took off, he leaned in close. Hearing that Halloween melody playing from the earphones you wore, he quietly sang along.

As much as he liked cuddling ‘Ro on Halloween, horror movie nights; A new idea crossed his mind. He might just snuggle up on the couch with someone special this year. 

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #21: Halloween

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content: lab whump, captivity, ghosts, parent and animal death mention, comfort, ghost carewhumpee, winged test subject whumpee, scientist carewhumper

HAPPY (LATE) HALLOWEEN to Dew and Anton (and Max)!! watch them as they celebrate the spookiest holiday as a way to cope with their own horrors that are slowly consuming them (also ignore the fact i’m posting this one day after halloween… every day is halloween if you’re a creature of the night like me for realsies)

— 

For a moment Dew thought that it was all one bad dream, but like everything else that had happened to him, he knew it’d never be that easy. This wasn’t a dream, he wasn’t hallucinating, and this wasn’t another experiment— if so, Anton would have burst into the room giddy with excitement about the idea of ghosts existing a long time ago— so it had to be real; that was the only explanation. Dew could see ghosts. Dew could communicate with the dead.

He supposed it was a good idea to keep this a secret from Anton. From what all of this implied, Anton didn’t deserve to know that Max was still here, lest he torment them further than what he did back when they were his lab rat. They deserved a peaceful afterlife, and Dew would… try as best he could to give them that. He didn’t need Anton ruining yet another person’s life— or lack thereof.

Max seemed happy with that decision as well. Whenever Dew brought Anton up, they shuffled awkwardly and mumbled short and vague responses. It was obvious they preferred not to talk about him. The idea of confronting him after all this time seemed like it filled them with absolute dread. Dew didn’t need to know all the specific details to understand why.

Eventually, the two of them realized they had stayed up all night talking, and Dew had gotten absolutely zero sleep. He was sitting on his bed talking to Max when the lights flicked on, and Anton came strolling through the lab. Dew’s heart jumped in his chest, and he frantically pulled the blankets over them both.

He could see Max. He could talk to a ghost, a ghost! How the hell was he supposed to keep this a secret from Anton? His drowsy head swarmed with adrenaline and worry, he could barely think straight after everything that was going on, it’d surely cause suspicion.

…Shit.

Dew hopped out of bed and picked up the knife off the floor.

“Max,” Dew whispered frantically. “W- what do I do with the knife— where do I put it?—”

“Put it back in your pillow case,” Max said. “Hurry. Anton’s coming.”

Dew stuffed the knife in there and ran to the bathroom, usering Max alone with him. He slammed the door shut and watched Max float seamlessly through the walls and into the bathroom.

“Oh my god… oh my god!” Dew exclaimed, running his hands through his disheveled hair. “Anton’s coming. Anton’s gonna- gonna find out about you and—”

“No, He won’t,” Max reassured him. “He hasn’t seen me for the past five years I’ve been here… no matter how much I’ve tried. He won’t suddenly be able to see me now… It’s okay, I promise.”

“Okay… okay.”

“Please calm down, Dew. You’ll only arouse suspicion…”

“You’re right- you’re right. Oh my god. What do I do? Do I tell Anton I can see you? What if he- what if he messes with my eyes more or kills me again or— or hurts you—”

“You don’t gotta tell him,” Max quickly reassured. “It’s- it’s probably best if you don’t, actually. It’s okay. Please… take a deep breath. Everything’ll be alright.”

“O-okay… I won’t tell him. Oh god. I can see dead people. Are you sure you’re real?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. Okay I should— I need to use the toilet. Do you mind…”

Max quietly nodded and floated out of the room, and Dew was left alone. A few moments later, he heard Anton enter his room from the other side of the door. Silence. He was just… waiting. Like usual. Of course. Everything was normal for him out there. For all the scientist knew, today was just another day.

When Dew was done, he walked back into his room, all three of his eyes moving to see Anton sitting on the side of his bed. They locked eyes. Dew felt like a deer in the headlights.

“Good morning, Dew,” the scientist said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Um,” Dew mumbled, quickly glancing up to the dark corner of the ceiling. Max was staring back, eye wide and still. Dew timidly shifted his gaze back to the scientist. “Good.”

“That’s good.” Anton breathed. He didn’t seem to notice Dew’s glance. He was staring at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Dew fidgeted with his shirt and tried to ignore the elephant in his room. With everything that happened, he’d almost forgotten about the scientist and his experiments. Being in his presence after last night made him filled with absolute dread. Memories flashed through his mind of being forced into that tank— the darkness, being unable to see, to move, to feel. He had died. Anton had killed him.

He was suddenly hyper aware of everything that was going on, the position he was in, where he was, the fact he didn’t know what was going to happen next. Tears welled up in his eyes far too suddenly, and he hadn’t realized that he’d pressed his back so far against the wall opposite the scientist that his wings were beginning to ache.

“I’m sorry, Dew,” Anton said quickly, breaking the silence and letting out a shaky breath. “About yesterday. I never- I never intended for that experiment to go the way it did. If you don’t mind, I wanna do a couple of tests quickly, just to see how you’re holding up. Then we can eat breakfast out in the kitchen together, okay?”

Dew wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeve and sniffled. His head jerked into a nod. “Oh, o-okay.” His tense shoulders started to relax, and he swallowed his nerves and followed Anton out of the door. He hadn’t been told to put his hospital gown on; that was a good thing. It meant no experiments. He closed his eyes as he walked and tried to focus on calming his breathing. Anton wouldn’t hurt him right now. No experiments. Everything would be okay.

As he walked, he realized the presence of the ghost grew farther away. Dew’s eyes flickered to the window and saw Max watching him silently from his room. They were staying put… Maybe that was for the best. It was already hard for Dew to focus with both the ghost and the scientist in the same room as him.

“You’ve been so good, Dew,” Anton said as they walked. Dew turned his head to look up at him. “So good. I don’t say that enough.”

“Oh, th-thanks…”

Now in the lab again, Dew was glad to note that the horrible giant tank and any evidence left from that experiment was gone. The fact that he may never go inside there again provided a small comfort as he hopped up on the metal table. The scientist prepped a small needle, and Dew had done this so much that he knew what to expect by now. He moved his arm from his sleeve and rested his elbow on the table, allowing Anton room to slide the needle in and start drawing blood.

Dew would usually look away, terrified with tears in his eyes as he clenched them shut, but this time he looked down in a morbid curiosity. But he felt nothing as his eyes bored into it, watching his dark red blood be taken from his body and filled in a couple of small vials.

He blinked, and it was over with. Anton wrapped his arm in a bit of cotton gauze and gave him a few light pats to his head. Dew put his arm back in his sleeve and stayed as still as he could as Anton continued to check his vitals. Cold stethoscope to his skin, blood pressure cuff squeezing his arm, bright lights in his eyes. His mind swarmed with so many questions and worries about the day prior that he could barely focus on what the scientist was even doing to him.

After he was done, Anton put a hand on Dew’s shoulder. Dew flinched and looked up at him. “That’s it, I’m done. I’m proud of you. As a reward for your good behavior, you deserve another break for a little while, don’t you think?”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Anton ruffled his hair. “We both do… And I need time to plan for what’s next.”

Dew let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He closed his eyes and slinked off of the table and onto the floor.

Anton lightly scrunched his brows. “You look tired. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“...No. I… I couldn’t sleep,” Dew mumbled. There was no use lying about it. It was obvious.

“Oh.” Anton patted his hair softly. He frowned, looking almost guilty. Dew hugged his knees to his chest. “I’m sorry about that… Good thing we get to rest today. Recover from… what happened.”

“…Anyways, everything’s looking good. You’re all healthy.” He gave Dew a gentle smile. “We have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s good,” Dew mumbled.

“…But Dew,” Anton said, smiling wide. It seemed like his usual, giddy self was already back. That had to be a new record. “There’s another reason we get a break today. Do you know what day it is?”

“No.”

“It’s…” Anton took two pens and drum rolled them on the table. “…Halloween!” He quickly put some giant fake mouse ears on his head. “I would have told you sooner, but uh, I kinda lost track of time. You get it.”

“It’s… Halloween already?” It felt like only yesterday it was his birthday at the beginning of October. It felt like only yesterday he escaped and murdered and got recaptured and gave up. It was only yesterday he died. Time continued to sneak by. It always did, and it always would.

“Awful timing, I know.” Anton scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “But… Let’s try not to let anything else ruin the spooky spirit for us today, alright? It’s a new day, everyone’s okay, let’s just… focus on having fun.”

So it really did seem like Anton wanted to move on from last night completely and sweep all the horrors that Dew faced under the rug. Dew didn’t know if he could just move on from what happened so easily. The void had swallowed him up, it was so dark, so…

“Dew?” Anton asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“S-sorry.” Maybe it was a good thing he had a distraction, actually. He’d focus on the spooky horrors today instead of his own. Surely pushing all his worries to the back of his mind wouldn’t have any repercussions later.

“Like I said, I didn’t really get to plan much for today… time got the best of me. But I have a few fun options.” Anton changed the lighting in the lab to a dim orange hue, really setting the mood for Halloween. Dew didn’t even know Anton could change the colors of the lights in this place.

“If you want, we could decorate or carve some pumpkins for fun.” Anton laughed softly. “I don’t think it’ll surprise you to know we don’t get any trick-or-treaters here. And if we did, well, the more test subjects, the merrier! Haha.”

Dew didn’t laugh.

“But that’s okay. It means we get the candy all to ourselves! Here, you deserve the treat.” Anton handed him an orange jack-o-lantern bucket filled to the brim with candy.

“…Th-thanks.”

“Don’t eat it all at once. Oh! Right, you’re probably hungry. Come on, let's go get some breakfast.” Anton held his hand out towards Dew. He sighed and grabbed it, allowing Anton to pull him to his feet. He followed him to the kitchen. “Hmm, what do you want for breakfast, Dew? I also haven't eaten yet this morning. I just, uh, woke up and came straight here.” Anton looked down at his lime green socks and chuckled lightly. “I didn’t even remember to put my shoes on.”

“Hmm.” Dew didn’t really know. It had been months since someone asked what he wanted for breakfast. “I mean… I really like pancakes. Especially if-if they have chocolate chips in them.”

Anton hummed. “Oh, that sounds good! Yeah, I’ll make ‘em, you just sit tight.” Anton pulled a chair out for Dew and he sat down at the table.

It was so weird seeing the scientist in such a cheery mood after last night, after that experiment went wrong, after he allegedly killed him. Maybe it was just his way of coping, his way of trying to cheer Dew up. He knew how… important he was to the man. But still, if Anton didn’t want him to get hurt, he shouldn’t have fucking experimented on him.

Dew closed his eyes while he waited, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his wings around himself on the chair. He was so exhausted. Eventually, Anton finished baking the pancakes and set a plate down in front of him. There were two medium pancakes and a bigger curved one, arranged in the shape of a smiley face.

They ate their breakfast in silence. Well… at first. “This is so good, Dew!” Anton exclaimed. “Pancakes was a good idea!”

The pancakes themself weren’t… the best, but they were better than nothing. Dew and his friends used to make much better pancakes together back at home. He wondered if they still did that. With the clone.

After they were done eating breakfast, Anton took their plates and set them in the sink. “Well, we’re already in the kitchen, do you wanna carve some pumpkins?” he asked.

“…Sure.”

“Alright.” Anton bent down and hefted two pumpkins up on the table. One was rather small, and the other was a bit bigger. “Choose your pick. I don’t mind.” It was obvious Anton was hoping he’d get to carve the bigger one, so Dew took the small one. “Good choice!”

Anton handed Dew a pencil and some rubber gloves, then he handed him a knife.

…A knife.

Dew stared at it.

Anton only just seemed to notice what he handed him so casually a second ago. “Oh, just be careful with that, Dew.” Anton frowned. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“…I’ll be careful,” Dew said. It was hard to believe Anton was just trusting him with a knife like this, unrestrained, and so close to him too, especially after…

He shook those thoughts away. He was glad he was being trusted with this after everything that had happened. He could use all the trust he could get here, and he wouldn’t break it. …At least, not now.

Oh, right. 

He didn’t know what to do. All these thoughts about trust and he just remembered that he’d been lying to the scientist for weeks about his eyes. He should tell him, he should. He couldn’t break his trust all over again and risk getting hurt. It wasn’t worth it.

After snapping his own gloves on, Anton started digging in. “You can turn your music on too, if you’d like. I don’t listen to music much. but if you like it so much, it might be nice…”

Dew pressed play on his MP3 player that has been sitting in his pocket, letting it play out loud. Whatever Dew decided to do about all the secrets he’d been keeping, it could surely wait a little longer. It was Halloween. He decided to focus on the pumpkin carving and the music playing, letting it drown out his thoughts.

Dew put his gloves on and started carving. It was easy at first, all he had to do was cut the stem out. But… he didn’t exactly know what he wanted to carve. He used to carve pumpkins all the time during spooky season with his friends, but now… he sighed. He didn’t feel like designing something new and intricate. A generic scary jack o'lantern face would have to.

“So, Dew, do you like Halloween?” Anton asked.

“Um… yeah,” Dew mumbled. “Yeah. It’s fun.”

Anton smiled. “What do you like about it?”

Dew shrugged. “I used to go trick-or-treating a lot with my friends. We’d always dress up in costumes. One time Sawyer and I went as two of our favorite video game characters. It was… really fun.” Dew softly stabbed the side of the pumpkin and took his hand away, putting it in his lap and letting the knife sit sticking out of the pumpkin. “I miss it. Obviously.” He wasn’t going to ask if Anton could take him trick-or-treating. It’d be an obvious no. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just to be let down.

“What about you?” Dew asked, looking up. “Do you like Halloween?”

“Oh yeah, I love Halloween.” Anton smiled fondly. “It’s one of the only holidays Pierce let me celebrate. I used to dress up sometimes. I never went, uh, trick-or-treating though.” Anton frowned. “It sounds fun. I wish… I wish I did. Pierce and I never really left the forest much…”

Dew blinked.

“And uh, if I would’ve remembered it was Halloween sooner, I definitely would’ve prepared costumes. But hey, there’s always next year!”

…Yeah. Next year.

And the year after that.

And the years after that.

Hey, maybe by then, Anton would trust Dew enough to take him trick-or-treating again. Then they’d both be happy. Maybe he’d even see his friends walking on the street by them with his clone. He wondered what he’d be dressed up as. He plucked the knife out of the pumpkin and continued carving into it.

Orange, wet, slimy pumpkin guts covered his gloved hands as he gutted his pumpkin. His knife shone bright in the orange light, illuminating the stabs into its face as he carved it out. He felt like he was gonna be sick.

“Hey, Dew?” Anton said out of nowhere. Dew looked up from his pumpkin. “I just wanted to say… I’m… I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured softly. “I love spending time with you.”

Around an hour later, the two of them finished up their pumpkins. Anton put little candles inside and lit them, then dimmed the lights all the way. The two jack o'lanterns lit up, warm orange light filling the darkness. Anton had carved a little… rat? Mouse? Whatever it was, it was kinda cute. Dew just carved a scary face. It’s jagged, zig zag mouth curving up into a smile, contrasting Dew’s obvious tired, sad, and perpetually fearful frown.

Despite that, Anton still seemed proud of him. He put a hand on his shoulder and grinned. “Woah! These look amazing!” Anton said. “Good job, Dew. You did great.”

Dew smiled lightly at the praise. “Th-thanks. Now what?” he asked.

“I’ll clean this mess up and then… we could… watch a movie? We can watch something scary on the big computer monitor screens I have in here, if you want.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go get my sketchbook.”

Dew walked to his room, noticing Max was still floating by the window. He opened the door and walked in, looking out to make sure Anton wasn’t watching him. He seemed busy enough getting rid of the pumpkin guts.

“Hi,” Dew whispered.

“Hey,” Max said. “…What were you two doing over there?”

“What, carving pumpkins? You… you don’t know what that is?”

“Maybe I did, but I don’t remember anymore.”

“Oh… Well, it’s for Halloween. Something you do during Halloween time, you know, because it’s spooky.”

“…Halloween?”

“…Oh boy.”

As Dew talked about Halloween, recognition slowly started to spread across Max’s face. They felt it too. That familiarity. That… intense feeling they couldn’t seem to describe. Like… like when they first heard music from Dew’s machine. Halloween must have been important to them in the past… far into the past. Maybe even before the lab.

“Huh,” Dew said. “Do you know… If there’s any ways to like, jog your memories? Make them come back?”

Max shrugged. “I’m not sure. Sometimes if I focus really hard, I can remember a little. But… before— before here— it’s… nothing. Maybe a small feeling in the back of my mind, but that’s it.”

“…Oh.”

“Don’t feel bad, Dew.” Max assured. “I’m used to it by now. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t, and Dew knew that. None of this was okay. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can you come with me? I’m scared to be alone. And I don’t want you to feel left out.”

Max’s eye lit up. “Okay. …Anton still doesn’t know I’m here, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay… good.”

Dew grabbed his sketchbook— and his ghost nightlight, it was in theme after all— and went back into the lab with Max following behind him. Anton had cleaned up the mess and was snacking on some candy when Dew approached him. He stood there silently, not really used to being the one to initiate their interactions. He was so used to being told what to do that he froze up the second Anton let him loose.

“Oh, hey,” the scientist said. “The remains of the insides of the pumpkins have been disposed of. Spooky movie time! I can make some popcorn if you want.”

Dew nodded.

“Alright! Let’s go make popcorn.” Anton started walking towards the exit of the lab, then hesitated. He turned to Dew. “…You can come with, if you want.”

Dew was surprised, but followed him anyway. Anton was taking him upstairs. He hadn’t gone up there since… He shuddered. He couldn’t mess this up. If he even just made the wrong move, or looked too longingly at the windows or something, he could ruin everything again. He gestured for Max to come with him. They’d help stop him from making stupid decisions.

But when he walked out the exit and they floated next to him and raised their hand to touch his, it stopped in mid air. Rigid. Unmoving. They tried moving their body forward, but it was like an invisible force was keeping them in the confines of the lab. Dew could barely process what that meant before Anton called for him.

“Dew? Come on.”

He forced himself to look away from Max and silently began walking up the stairs after Anton. His heart pounded in his chest when he realized what that meant. Max couldn’t leave the lab. He… guessed it made sense. After all, if he were a ghost in this place, the first thing he’d do if he got the chance was to leave and never look back. But that wasn’t an option for Max, was it?

Once they got to the top of the stairs, Anton opened the door and the two of them walked into the cabin. A chill went down Dew’s spine as he caught sight of the windows. Outside Dew saw a flurry of snow falling from the sky. White snowflakes danced in the air of the forest, the trees had lost most of their leaves at this point. It was already almost winter.

Anton glanced at Dew and then out the window. “Oh yeah, it started snowing recently. Come on, let’s pop some popcorn.”

Anton pulled Dew along to the kitchen and began rummaging around in the pantry. Sounds of popcorn popping in the microwave filled his ears, and he could already smell it.

“Okay Dewey,” Anton said, pouring the popcorn in a big bowl and pouring butter over the top. “It’s all done. Let’s go.”

They walked back to the lab and got the movie ready. Anton moved the couch from the kitchen to the middle of the room in front of his giant computer screens, and they sat down, cozied in their warm blankets. The movie Anton chose was Frankenstein.

They stayed silent for most of the movie. Max had come to sit next to Dew to watch it too, but quickly went flying back to hide in his room after it became too distressing for them. Dew was honestly dozing off for some of it, having got little to no sleep last night, but it was still entertaining. Better than being experimented on for real, at least. Anton just seemed happy to be spending time with him. After the movie, they ate lunch.

“What to do…” Anton said, pacing around in circles. “Oh, let’s tell some ghost stories!”

“O-oh, okay—” Dew’s words were cut off when a blanket was thrown in his face and he was pulled by his ankle off of the couch. “Hey!” He yelled, genuinely frightened. He pushed the blanket off of him and shot Anton a look. “What the f—”

“Relax, Dew.” Anton laughed. “I’m just making a blanket fort. We need one if we’re gonna tell spooky stories. This is gonna be fun.”

“Okay, fine.” Dew sighed. Anton started draping the blankets over the couch and connecting them to the chairs and shelves around them. Eventually, there was a small but decently cozy blanket fort that Dew and Anton were huddled under. Dew looked to his right to see Max phasing through the blankets and sitting down next to him.

“You start,” Anton said, smiling eagerly.

“Oh, um…” Dew glanced at Max. He really didn’t have any actual ghost stories to tell, besides the one from last night, but that one was obviously off the table. He didn’t really feel like making up something on the spot either. He sighed. Best to just get this over with. He was so tired.

“Well… me and my friends always liked to play with ouija boards,” Dew said. “We’d go out into the woods at night and sit in the grass with the board in the middle of us. We did it a couple of times and mostly goofed around, but it was kinda scary. And then…” Dew frowned. “Then my parents died, and… and we tried to use the board to talk to them. I dunno if it ever actually worked, or if my friends were just tryna make me feel better…”

Dew looked back up at Anton. “That’s my ghost story.”

Anton blinked. There was an awkward silence before he cleared his throat and chuckled awkwardly. “That wasn’t a very scary story, Dew. …But I’m… sorry for your loss. That must’ve been hard.”

“Yeah,” Dew mumbled. “Your turn.”

“Okay.” Anton grabbed Dew’s ghost light and held it under his chin all spookily. He began telling a cliche— but somewhat scary coming from Anton— ghost story. Being in the dark and hearing a story like that honestly sent chills down Dew’s spine, but he didn’t know if it was because he was scared or if it was the ghost that was sitting next to him. …Besides, he was always scared.

After the story, Dew decided to ask something he’d only really get the chance to ask today. “Hey, so… do you…” Dew glanced at Max again, who was curled up into a ball next to him. “Do you actually believe in ghosts?”

Anton paused for a moment, seemingly thinking deeply about it as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious— him being a scientist and all. He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “Hm. I’m not sure. If they do, that seems like an awfully painful existence to have. I wouldn’t want anyone to exist like that.” Anton cleared his throat. “But scientifically speaking: no, they don’t exist. So there’s no reason to think about them. It’ll just… bring you down. People die, y’know, what happens after is… irrelevant.”

Dew looked to his right again to see that Max was gone. Probably huddled up in his room.

Anton tilted his head, looking at him with a sad expression. “Hey Dew, are you okay? You’ve been on edge all day.”

“Oh, um…” Dew began nervously fidgeting with his Halloween candy. “I’m just- I’m scared of what’s gonna happen next.”

“Next?”

“L-like, the experiments. What are you gonna do to me next?” It was the question that had been ringing in his head all day, and he finally had the courage to ask it.

“Oh.” Anton frowned, suddenly looking much more serious, his expression almost resembling the one of horror from last night. He swallowed, guilt finding its way across his features. “Right. Of course you’d be wondering this. I should have explained more earlier.”

He sighed. “Well, we’re moving on from the eye experiments. That last experiment was a close call— too close for comfort, and we were getting nowhere anyway. I gave you a third eye and that was a success, but the rest… I wasn’t prepared. I went in too strong without thinking. We will come back to this eventually— maybe— probably not. There’s still so much I want to test, but for now we need to move on while I plan better ways— safer ways— to get done what I want.”

Dew wondered what really was it that Anton wanted to achieve. All of his questions led him nowhere, almost as if the scientist didn’t want to admit what he was searching for. But it was obvious in the way Anton was slouched down and wasn’t making the constant eye contact and talking about experiments without that excited glint in his eyes that he saw this as a failure. A failed experiment that gave Dew more powers than he could imagine. If only Anton knew.

Still, Dew was relieved that Anton seemingly wanted to move on from that particular experiment. It failed, and that was that, no second attempts, no re-do’s. Thank goodness for that. That was all Dew really cared about at this point. Surviving.

He didn’t have much to say, and it was obvious the scientist didn’t want to talk about this either, so he said nothing besides nodding in understanding.

Anton clicked his pen repeatedly, obviously wanting to change the subject. “Do you wanna watch another scary movie?”

“Sure.”

“Great.”

The blanket fort was swiftly torn down, the popcorn bucket was refilled and the two of them were once again sitting on the couch watching a spooky movie. Re-animator, this time. Anton seemed enraptured, Dew found it kind of interesting, and Max was nowhere to be seen.

Dew knew it couldn’t have been very late, but he was getting so tired. The complete lack of sleep last night was finally catching up with him, drowning out his thoughts and making him drift slowly into unconsciousness.

As Dew relaxed deeper into the couch, he felt Anton’s hand trail behind him before settling comfortably on his head, softly petting his fluffy hair. Dew melted into it, hugged his blanket closer, and started dozing off to the side.

Anton closed his eyes, clinging to him, petting his hair, cherishing this moment. It was just him and Dew. Safe and sound. He’d never let another bad thing happen to him again.

. . .

“Hey, Dewey?” Anton asked softly, stirring Dew awake.

“Huh?” Dew tiredly lifted his hands up to rub his eyes, all three of them landing on Anton once he came into focus in the dark. He was laying on the couch, head in Anton’s lap, the scientist’s hand softly petting his hair. He must have fallen asleep.

“The movie’s over. Let’s go back to your room.”

“M’kay.”

Dew allowed Anton to carry him to his room as he drifted between consciousnesses. Anton laid him down in bed and turned on his night light. “Goodnight, Dewey. Sleep tight.”

“G’night…” Dew murmured.

Anton lingered in the doorway for a few moments before shutting it and leaving the lab. Dew was comfortable melting into his sheets and drifting off to sweet, peaceful sleep until he heard someone trying to get his attention.

“Hey, Dew,” Max whispered. “Wake up.”

“Hmm?” Dew mumbled, sitting up with hair in his face and looking around the dark room, eyes adjusting just enough to see Max’s silhouette in front of him.

“Basil’s here. They wanted to say hi.”

“Oh,” Dew breathed. His eyes went wide. “Basil.” He’d almost forgotten about Anton’s old pet— the mouse. He never did get a chance to meet them.

“I don’t see them often. They’re not like me, they’re not trapped here. They spend their time in Anton’s room, they don’t like being in the lab, but… they’re my best friend too, and they wanted to meet you.”

Max held their hands open to reveal a small white mouse with dark spots curled up in their palms. Dew rubbed his eyes and smiled. They were so small, so cute, and yet they just looked like a trick of the light.

“Hi!” Basil squeaked.

She floated to Dew’s hands and curled up in a ball. Dew still couldn’t actually feel them, but it was a comforting sight nonetheless. Tears welled up in his eyes and he hugged her close, remembering the events of that day— that horrible day. Anton was the most distraught he’d ever seen him. His best friend had died, and now they were curled up in Dew’s hands, happy and peaceful as can be. Dew could tell this ghost was nothing like Max. This ghost was safe, their afterlife held no suffering, only peace. It seemed like the only reason they decided to stay in this mortal plane was so they could be with Max and Anton… and Dew, now.

He collapsed into his bed and cried, hugging himself tightly. Wet sobs racked his body as he clung to the sheets, grasping out for any comfort from the ghosts. He grieved for both of them. He realized he would have ended up like them if he’d gone through with it. He didn’t wanna think about what Anton would have done. He was so glad to be alive.

“We’re here, it’s okay,” Max whispered. They laid down on his bed next to him, holding Basil close, and started humming his favorite song. Dew wished he could feel their warmth, but the closer they got to him, the colder he felt. He wished he could just give them a hug. He wished someone would just give him a hug.

But as he lay there with both Max and Basil, the two of them trying their best to comfort him in the only ways they could, he held on tighter, and realized that them being together was all that mattered. He closed his eyes and fell asleep with his new friends, glad he wasn’t alone anymore.

— 

i’ve never actually seen frankenstein or reanimator btw but i thought those movies seemed fitting (and i don’t think anton would really be a fan of slasher type horror movies anyways). anyway i hoped yall liked it :3 (i'm honestly not too proud of it but whateverrrr) next chapter is one i’m SUPER DUPER EXCITED ABOUT!!! expect it VERY SOON because i’ve already written most of it!!!! YIPPEE

taglist:

@whumpinthepot @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced 

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@whump-till-ya-jump 

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[readriordan]

Happy Halloween!

A day of ghouls and specters, there isn't a better time to be a chthonic demigod - aka a demigod of the Underworld! So let's check in on some of our favorite chthonic kids and see how they spent their holiday:

Nico di Angelo

"I'm not exactly the most popular kid in Camp Half-Blood most days, but Halloween is different. We didn't really celebrate it back in my day in Italy, but I almost feel obligated now. I mean, I'm king of ghosts, I think that means I win Halloween, right? Anyways, I turned Cabin 13 into a haunted house for the other campers this evening. I've even got skeletons roaming around, and Jules-Albert is giving out candy. Usually people would be screaming about that, but the other campers love it. It's nice to be seen as cool for a change."

Hazel Levesque

"Camp Jupiter is busy during the holidays! Everybody's going trick-or-treating around New Rome. In the legion the cohorts are giving out candy to each other and holding a competition to see who can get the biggest haul. Even the lares are getting in on the fun trying to prank campers. Frank and I are on duty in the praetors' offices for any trick-or-treaters who come by. Usually some of the houses in New Rome stay open a little bit later though for the centurions once they get off of door duty, so we'll still have time to go wandering later. Plus, we get all the leftovers anyways, so we'll have plenty of treats regardless!"

Clovis

"Oh, Lou Ellen and I made a deal for tonight - she's going as Kiki from Kiki's Delivery Service, and she said if she can turn me into a cat for the evening she'll split her candy with me 50/50. And I get to nap the whole time. Not too bad of a deal for me, honestly. If I want I could honestly probably make the rounds again for seconds, since nobody would know I was already there. Total win-win."

Lou Ellen Blackstone

"Clovis probably already told you about my costume, but what he doesn't know is that my cabin is going all out. We're not gonna let Cabin 13 win spookiest haunted house, at least not without a fight! Sure he has skeletons and ghosts, but like, c'mon! That's gotta be cheating, right? Us Hecate kids take Halloween very seriously, of course. Especially trick-or-treat. Let's just say we tend to prefer the trick half a little bit more. We'll see how many campers get turned into animals by the end of the night. Unfortunately, Clovis doesn't count towards that."

Alabaster Torrington

"Well, normally I would be spending Halloween with my family, but seeing as the gods exiled me, I can't. That's alright though - I have a plan. You see, me and Dr. Claymore are gonna go scam campers out of their candy. I may be exiled, but as long as I stay outside the borders of Camp Half-Blood, I'm not breaking the rules, and they never said anything about Mistforms. And I might be able to say hi to my half-siblings while I'm there. Just as long as nobody rats me out to Chiron we're good. I'm sure I can convince them to keep quiet in exchange for king-sized candy bars. Oh, someone's coming - gotta go!"

What a spooky bunch! We hope you all had a happy and safe Halloween with plenty of treats.

[spacebabesuki]

Hellcheer's First Halloween Party 🎃 — Hellcheer Week

October 31, 1986.

It’s their first Halloween together as a couple, and they’ve been invited to Robin’s party.

Chrissy is thrilled; Halloween is her absolute favorite day of the year, her favorite holiday. She’s been practically buzzing all October, like a kid who’s had too much candy, and Eddie finds it pretty cute. She loves everything about it—the smell of pumpkin drinks, autumn leaves, candy, and, of course, costumes!

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, has always liked Halloween for one reason: scaring people and wearing the most grotesque masks he can find.

He had already planned to dress up as something awesomely nerdy and scary as hell, just to freak out kids in the street—maybe Pinhead or a character from Lord of the Rings or Star Wars.

He just wasn’t counting on the fact that, for the first time, his Halloween would be different—it’s his first with a girlfriend.

He can hardly believe it, after so many years of mocking the “dorky” couples who dressed in matching costumes at parties he never got invited to. And now his girlfriend wanted to do the same, a couple’s costume, and he froze when she asked him.

So, when Chrissy asked him to dress up as a couple, he said no. Actually, he said, “No fucking way, angel. Sorry, sweetheart, but no.”

But Chrissy spent days trying to convince him, even pointing out, “He even has your name! Edward Scissorhands... it’s like you!” she said.

He answered, “Thinking like this, baby, we could go as the Iron Maiden mascot, since it also has my name.”

But she didn’t give up, spending all thirty days of October trying to convince him with arguments like, “I love this movie! Please, Eddie, pleeease!”

He was set against it, unwilling to break his lifelong “no couples costumes” rule. He could only imagine how hard Gareth would laugh at him.

So...he realized that he had only laughed at and hated the happy couples in costumes in previous years because he didn’t have a girlfriend. He even started thinking about couple costumes, like Chrissy as Princess Leia and him as Jabba, but she would never go for that; he still needed to convince her to watch Star Wars.

She begged again and again and again. And then she looked at him with those big blue doe eyes, and, oh fuck, goddammit...he couldn’t resist. He said yes. He always said yes to her.

And now, here they are, dressed as Kim and Edward from Edward Scissorhands on the spookiest night of the year. Only, it doesn’t feel spooky at all to him. Not when he’s got the girl of his dreams, looking perfect in that white dress. She even did his makeup, sitting him down in front of her pink vanity to apply the white powder and tousle his hair just right. She was so excited and happy, and fuck, he would do anything for her. The only part he actually liked was the “scissor” hands… and, of course, the promise of kissing her allll night long.

Eddie Munson | Chrissy Cunningham | Hellcheer Week 2024 | Halloween Party - Day 13 @hellcheerweek

[shxtodxroki]

𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔-𝚘𝚛-𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝!

Summary: Tsumiki and Megumi are too sick on Halloween to trick-or-treat (and are understandably devastated) so you and Satoru team up to give them the most perfect, exciting Halloween night you possibly can in order to cheer them up.

Flufftober Day 2 Prompt: Family, Friends, Loved Ones

Warnings: Reader is considered a parent (not biologically) to Tsumiki and Megumi, so I would recommend not reading this if that makes you uncomfortable! Also idk if this needs a warning but Gojo (and subsequently reader) are pretty rich and have a super fancy house

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

The sound of a pitiful, sad sneeze draws your attention to the young girl sitting beside you on the couch, your heart squeezing at the crestfallen expression painted so clearly across her face as she snuggles further into your side. One glance towards your other child, begrudgingly wrapped up in your husband’s arms as he sits atop his lap, tells you that he’s just as disappointed about how this evening has turned out, and you desperately find yourself wishing that you could push tonight's internationally celebrated holiday back just a few days so that your precious children could celebrate alongside their peers.

Poor Megumi and Tsumiki had, unfortunately, fallen very sick the day before Halloween, leaving both of them heartbreakingly out of commission for trick-or-treating and forced to spend the spookiest day of the year stuck inside, cuddled up to their parents as they nursed their poor, sickly bodies. Satoru had been almost as devastated as the kids when he realized their fate, knowing just how much this tradition meant to both of them (and having been looking forward to sneaking a few handfuls from their candy stashes as “parent tax” to satiate his undeniable sweet tooth) as the two of you desperately tried to come up with a last-minute plan to salvage as much of the holiday as you could for your beloved children.

Unfortunately, it seems that the last-minute plan the two of you came up with is a bit of a dud, as while both kids tried to enjoy the movie you had turned on for them (The Nightmare Before Christmas, their favorite Halloween movie) and the candy you had bought especially for them (catered to each of their tastes and favorites), you could both easily see that their hearts weren’t in it, and they were still feeling down about having to miss out on such an exciting holiday celebration. You were itching to come up with a new idea, some way to lift their spirits and give them the truly wonderful Halloween the two deserved even from the comfort of your own home.

After a few minutes of stewing anxiously in your own head with no success as you pretend to watch the movie, you eventually shoot your husband a glance of concern as you pick up the half-empty popcorn bowl on the table and rise to your feet, gently removing yourself from Tsumiki’s hold as your husband did the same with your other child.

“You two keep enjoying the movie, the two of us are gonna go warm up some more popcorn for you!” You try to keep your voice light and cheerful as your husband hits both kids with his best, most authentic enthusiastic grin, and both kids attempt to give you small smiles in return, though it's clear you’re all just dancing around one another in a masquerade of happiness with your pitiful attempts to hide your feelings. Still, you make your way to the kitchen as nonchalantly as you can, with Satoru following close behind you as you begin speaking to one another in hushed voices the moment you’re certain the children can’t hear or see you.

“Satoru, this isn’t working at all. We have to come up with something else, I hate seeing the two of them so heartbroken.” Your eyes plead with him for a solution to this problem, your heart aching at the sight of your babies unable to participate in the typical annual holiday fun of Halloween night. The pout on your husband’s face makes it clear he feels just the same, his hand coming up to card through his hair as you both rack your brains for ideas.

“I know, I know. I just…. I dunno what will make them happy. We already bought them all the candy they could possibly ask for…” He mumbles, thinking to himself. Satoru’s mind always went to sweets first, but because it was Halloween, you had hoped that buying the kids all their favorite sweet treats would help mitigate the loss of the trick-or-treating experience at least somewhat. You could see now, though, that the candy was no match for the experience itself (despite the kids’ attempts to be grateful for what the two of you had done and to not seem upset). 

Your thoughts are brought to a sudden, screeching halt by a sharp gasp from your husband, his face suddenly lighting up with a bright, genuine grin you've come to both love and dread. You hold your breath hopefully as you wait to see if he has an answer, some way to fix this lackluster Halloween and raise your childrens’ spirits.

“I have the perfect idea.” He brags as his bright blue eyes light up with joy, peering past the kitchen entrance to glance at the nearly full bowl of candy sitting by the children on the couch. “Why don’t we let them trick-or-treat in here?”

The two of you had gotten lucky, it had only taken about half an hour for Satoru to set everything up while you kept the kids distracted with the movie, wanting to surprise them with an idea that you prayed would work in boosting their spirits. You don’t mention a word of your plan until Satoru has everything set up, biting back the hopeful grin on your face as you watch him run down the stairs and stumble to a stop in front of the children. Their confused faces, accompanied by soft sniffles and sneezes, cause your heart to clench for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, hoping and praying that this is what they need right now.

“I need you two to go get your costumes on right now!” He exclaims once he comes to a stop, sporting a genuinely enthusiastic grin. “Y/n and I have a surprise for you!”

The kids glance at one other, seemingly hesitantly hopeful at his words, as he pulls out the hangers holding each of their costumes from behind his back. You both knew that one of the biggest disappointments they had faced when getting sick was the fact that they were unable to wear and show off the costumes they had been so excited for, and you can see the way their eyes instantly light up as they're told that they'll get to wear them after all. The genuine smiles that brighten their faces as they rush to him to grab the costumes nearly cause your eyes to water, feeling so incredibly thankful that you had found a way to make this up to them after all.

“Now, obviously we can’t take you guys trick-or-treating outside, since we can’t let you spread your cooties around to anyone else.” Satoru teases the kids, as Tsumiki giggles at his remarks. “But…. luckily for the two of you, I happen to have a huge house and plenty of extra candy, so why don’t you just trick-or-treat in here?”

You can see the confusion on the childrens’ faces at the offer, so you jump in as your husband wraps an arm around your waist and lets you explain the new plan for the evening. “We were thinking we could put this giant house to good use, so that the two of you can still trick-or-treat! Satoru and I can pretend to be people handing out candy, and you two can go through the hallways and trick-or-treat from us!” You smile softly at them as you speak, hoping they’ll be excited about this idea as you lean in to your husband’s warmth beside you to avoid the anxious habit of picking at your nails. “I know it’s not the same as actual trick-or-treating, but we still want to give you guys the best night possible even if you’re stuck inside, so what do you say?”

For a second, the room is silent, and you feel your heart plummet into your stomach as the children stare at you with expressions you can’t begin to decipher. When they run up to hug the two of you, however, your fears are immediately relinquished and you pull the two into a warm embrace. “Sounds like fun!” Tsumiki grins as her small arms attempt to wrap around you and Satoru simultaneously, sounding brighter and more full of energy than she has ever since she first fell ill.

Megumi’s always been quieter and more reserved than his sister, but you can see the small, genuine smile he wears on his face as well as he joins in on the family hug. “Thank you guys for doing this for us.” He mumbles, burying his face into your chest for a moment as you pat his head gently.

After taking a moment to enjoy this embrace from your two children, Satoru sends them off to their rooms to change into their costumes as you lean in to press a soft peck to his cheek, attempting to convey how thankful you are to him for saving the night for all for of you. “You’re so smart sometimes, babe. You really have a way with those two.”

You know your praise will go straight to his ego, and his prideful smirk only confirms that, but you can let him have the boost just this once. He manages to sneak in one small, quick kiss to your lips as the two of you make your way up the stairs, momentarily hidden away from the prying eyes of your children as you prepare for a long and busy evening. “What can I say, baby? I've been telling you, I’m the greatest man you’ll ever meet.”

Before you can begin to chastise him for his cockiness you hear the small pitter-patter of your children running up the stairs, and the two of you give each other one last loving glance as you make your way down to the end of the hallway and split off to enter into two of the many unoccupied rooms of your home. Satoru already has small collections of candy set up in each room, ready to hand out when your children come knocking, and you feel like you can finally breathe easy as you hear the soft sound of knocking echo from the other side of your door. 

The rest of the evening is filled with smiles, candy and a chorus of “trick-or-treat”s from your two adorably dressed babies, sending you and Satoru flying throughout the house as you answer each door over and over until they’re finally satisfied with the amount of candy they’ve each amassed in their pillow-cases. When the chaos has finally settled and the two are sat down on the living room floor, participating in the classic tradition of candy trading (alongside Satoru, using some spare candy of his own he had bought and hidden from the two in your shared closed) you set the spare candy aside for a later date, before returning to the couch to watch the three of them with a fond gaze.

Their trading continues for some time, as Tsumiki clammers for anything with peanut butter in it while Megumi opts for any of the fruity or sour candies, and your husband just takes whatever sugar he can weasel out of the kids (despite the fact that he bought the candy himself, and could’ve chosen whatever he wanted to keep. And once the three are finally finished exchanging for their desired candy, you decide to let the kids enjoy as much of their Halloween loot as they’d like just for tonight, knowing that they probably won’t eat much anyways considering their poor health and weak stomachs.

It doesn’t take long after that for both children to wind up passed out on the floor, intense sugar crashes and the realization of the amount of energy they spent throughout the evening crashing down onto them all at once and knocking them out cold as they snore softly. Satoru takes this moment of quiet as his chance to finally cuddle up to you, sneaking up to join you on the couch and pulling you into his side as he makes quick work of peppering kisses along your neck.

“I’d say this was a pretty successful Halloween after all, wouldn’t you, beautiful?” He asks with a cheeky grin, clearly listening for more praise for his efforts and ideas. Though, for once, you don’t roll your eyes or push your husband away as a result of your cheeky antics. Just this once, you’re willing to allow him to be just a bit cocky, turning your head so his lips meet yours instead of your neck in a quick sneak attack before tucking your head into the crook of his neck. 

“Yeah, you did an amazing job Toru. Really.” You nod happily, thankful that the two of you had found a way to brighten up the day for the sake of the kids. “You could tell they had an absolute blast….. Though I’m pretty sure they’ll be sore tomorrow morning if they sleep on the floor like that, so we should probably get them to bed.”

Rather than heeding your advice, however, Satoru pulls away from you for only a moment as he picks up your children one at a time, moving them carefully as if they’re made of glass as he’s unusually careful not to wake them. He rests little Megumi next to you, his head immediately falling into your lap as Tsumiki’s head rests on your husband’s. And once the children are settled, he quickly makes his way back to you, leaning back to let you rest your head on his chest and snuggle up to him as well. “I think I like this a lot better, actually.” He grins, content as he snuggles with his three favorite people in the universe. 

“Happy Halloween, love.” You mumble, ghosting your lips over his jaw in a feather-light kiss before allowing your eyes to drift closed as you find yourself completely at peace in his warm, soothing hold. “I love you.”

And Satoru has an absolutely foolish, lovestruck grin on his face as he watches you fall asleep alongside your children, holding you close to his heart as he kisses your head in return and allows his own eyes to flutter closed with a heart full of love for all three of you. “I love you more, baby. Happy Halloween.”

Request - Anonymous said: hello! for flufftober, please consider writing something for gojou (jjk), saeyoung (mysme) or keigo (bnha) ):

Anonymous said: after what happened, i need something of satoru gojou for your flufftober, would you mind writing something for him???

A/N: Y’all I have essentially been fixated on this man ALONE (plus a tiiiiny bit of Rengoku from KNY here and there but that’ll come later lol) for over a month at this point lol so I knew I was gonna write about him from the moment I started planning this event, but I was happy to see so many requests for him as well! Literally the first two requests I got for this event were both for Gojo which made me very happy lol :] Also

(WARNING FOR MANGA SPOILERS PAST THIS POINT, DO NOT READ BEYOND HERE IF YOU DON’T WANT THE RECENT MANGA LEAKS SPOILED)

After what’s happened recently, I definitely agree that some fluffy Gojo was necessary :( I was so distraught when I saw what happened on TikTok, I got home from school and literally cried lol but now I am in denial and convincing myself that he is actually fine and definitely not dead! 😃🙃 Plus it’s just been devastating to me to know what’s happening to Megumi and their whole little family rn too, so I’ve just been in need of some cute family bonding to ease the pain :’) I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it, I look forward to posting for the rest of Flufftober and my requests are currently open right now, so feel free to send any requests you may have my way! :)

Taglist: @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[tyrantisterror]

Wizard School Mysteries Book 3: Wicked Witchcraft is officially published! Get your copy now!

Happy friday the 13th, friends! To celebrate this spooky day, and prepare for the spookiest of all holidays, Halloween, why not grab a copy of Wizard School Mysteries Book 3: Wicked Witchcraft, now available in paperback and ebook form at Amazon.com?

Here's the synopsis, which will show why this book is such a good pick for this spooky autumn season:

After a summer spent reconnecting with their families and loved ones, the Meddlesome Youths have returned to the Academy of Applied Arcana and Magic for their sophomore year of their spell-casting education, each hoping that this semester will be quieter than the last school year was - or at least involve less death and kidnapping. But how could it be at a school that welcomes in the supernatural? With vampire teachers, haunted classrooms, a masked maniac prowling the woods, and a river from the Underworld itself lying beneath campus, the deck is stacked against a peaceful school year. Add to it the fact that one of their number, Gretchen Pappenheimer, is trapped in an internship that's literally from Hell, and our young sleuths are fated for a fall semester they'll never forget - provided they can survive it! The spookiest entry yet in the Wizard School Mysteries series, Wicked Witchcraft puts our meddlesome youths up against their most deadly foes yet in an adventure that takes them to Hell and back. A perfect adventure to read on Samhain or Freyasday the 13th!

And if you haven't read the previous entries of the Wizard School Mysteries series, Book 1: The Meddlesome Youths and Book 2: Tournament of Death, well, I think if you bought them now you'd have plenty of time to read them both and still have time to read book 3 as a wonderful cap for your Halloween season!

So what are you waiting for? It's never been a better time to dive into the Wizard School Mysteries series!

[muppet-lurker]

DICK or TREAT! 🍬 DICK or TREAT! 🍬🙏🏼 GIVE ME 🙏🏼 SOMETHING 😉 GOOD TO EAT! 🐱 👅 😈 Happy HalloWEINER 🎃 all you VAGINA LICKING VAMPIRES 🧛🏻‼️ Now that COCKtober 🗓 has CUM 💦 to an end, the Spookiest 👻 and SLUTTIEST 😈 holiday is upon us: SLUT-O-WEEN! 🎃‼️ So it’s time ⏰ for all you Bad Bitch 💁🏻‍♀️Witches 🧙🏻‍♀️to hop OFF 🙅🏼‍♀️ that broomstick 🧹 and hop 🔛 this dick! 🌽 Your mans🙋🏽‍♂️will celebrate 🎉 by MUNCHING 😋 your Laffy Taffy 🍬 and 👆🏼ButterFINGERING👆🏼😂 that PEPPERMINT 😻 PUSSY 😻 until you MOAN 😵 with Almond JOY‼️ SUCKK 🍭 his HARDDD 💪🏾 BLOW 💨 POP until he StarBURSTS 💦 his 🍯 BIT O HONEY 🍯 😈 into your JELLY BELLY! 😱🥰 This SLUT-O-WEEN 🎃 don’t 🙅🏾‍♀️ be a bore 😴…….. so make sure ✔️ you DRESS 👠 like a TOTAL 💁🏼‍♀️ WHORE! 🤸🏼‍♂️😈 Send 📩 this to 6️⃣9️⃣ HALLOWEEN HOES 👯‍♀️ before MIDNIGHT 🌚 CUMS or you’ll be CURSED 🌀😱 with a NO 🚫 NUT 🥜 NOVEMBER 😭😭😭

[reyrey-art]

And that is all the art I have made so far, which unfortunately means that the future posts will be quite slow as I don't have much time to draw. I have only left out holiday drawings which will be posted when the right day comes. (the spookiest of which approaches so I hope you will look forward to that (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧)

Thank you everyone for all your support. I am overjoyed to see that so many of you like my work and I hope you will enjoy my future drawings as well!