#apologies for anyone I spooked!

[itsonlypolite]

out of curiosity, if we were to lift up hero’s little visor thing, what would be under there?

Good question! Hero, mind lifting up your visor so we can see?

...someone get this guy some brown contacts

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hare and Bunny Hybrids (3)

Part 2

Once you’ve returned and washed the smell of the ‘outside’ off of you

Better make way for theirs

Chryst is taking over immediately smothering you with his scent 

Jared will eventually intercede only to do the same thing but the thing is he’ll let you move around

His bunny counterpart takes it quite personally when you don’t immediately drop everything to cuddle him

“Don’t you want to smell like me? To be held by me?”

“Chryssy, I need to go to the bathroom first.”

“Without me?”

Again Jared doesn’t need to hog you directly, especially when it comes to scenting

He’s already made sure he’s done it with the entire home

“Do you want to cuddle too Jared?”

“Nah it’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So you don’t want to cuddle? Not even a little bit?”

“....Fine. But only because you’re giving me those eyes.”

The good thing about your hybrids is that when you're around they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else

So you don’t have to worry about them kicking, curbstomping, pestering your neighbors

Or getting into concerning shenanigans

“So what’d you guys do today?”

“Nothin’ ” “Only waiting for you my bun!”

“Right. Well, miss Najimi called and said you were burying something in the yard.”

“That wench!” “It was Chryst burrowing again. I convinced him to close it up so that you wouldn’t fall in it.”

“Oh okay! She sounded so frazzled, I would have thought you were burying a body or something.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to apologize later...for spooking her.”

When you’re home you can trust that neither of them is especially eager to part with you

But if it’s going to be anyone it’d be Jared

Unless Chryst is trying out his latest plan

Otherwise, Chryst will be on your back…literally

“Chryst I didn’t say I’d mind doing piggyback rides but I’d prefer you keep your hands on my shoulders.”

“You don’t like where my hands are now?”

“Not really…can you at least stop squeezing my chest, please.”

“Haha no.”

Jared is so well-behaved you’ll trust him to organize dinner

“Jared this tastes great!”

“Thanks.”

“It’s real good, Jarry!”

“Whatever.”

“ I reckon it’s deserving of @##$@%!”

“Chryst!?”

“Dude, I’d never do that at the table that’s just indecent. Maybe on the couch later though.”

Life with your hybrids is as peaceful as you keep it

Keeping the peace is the least of your problems especially with so many....predators about

[hiddenonyx]

Obey Me! Beach Day Headcanons

a/n: oops I fell off the face of the earth. I'm slowly working on stuff, trying to clean what shit I had started, before I work on other stuff, but here's a little something that I threw together. *this is mostly unedited so apologizes

Prompt: what each cast member does during a day trip to Diavolo's beach.

Lucifer - reclines on a sun-lounger in the shade with a tropical (alcoholic) drink and either reads, or sleeps. He was told to relax so he is - and he's not responsible for anything his brothers do, nor will he fix any problems that they inevitably cause.

Mammon - goes swimming and does a little bit of diving. Often gets roped into doing something on the beach - such as building sand castles, burying people, or some sport - or helping Asmo take photos.

Levi - either buries himself in the sand or goes swimming. If he decides to be buried, he's going to take a long nap - making up for all his lost sleep from late gaming nights and early mornings for conventions. If he's swimming, he's probably trying to spook people (mainly Mammon) by pulling at their legs.

Satan - likes to look for tide pools and see if he can't name everything in them, or he walks the shore line during low tide to see what turns up. He also tends to be the one asked to identify any weird creature anyone else finds. If he's not poking around tide pools, he's reading in the shade with a nice, easy drink.

Asmo - takes pictures. He takes pictures of everything - himself, his brothers outfits, food, drinks, the environment, you name it, he's probably already taken a photo of it. When he's forced to put the camera down, Asmo enjoys building sand castles or sitting on the shore line and letting the waves gently wash up against him.

Beel - does a bit of everything, almost. Tags along for swimming, and him and Belphie often accompany Satan on his walks to the tide pools. Beel also enjoys helping Asmo build sand castles and doesn't mind simply relaxing in the shade either. He's the one who offers to take care of Luke so Simeon can finally go drink relax.

Belphie - just sleep. Picks a nice shady hammock not far from where everyone is and just passes out. Though he is willing to be woken up for a poke around tide pools and the shoreline at low tide.

Diavolo - is very much like Beel, and does a bit of everything, though he does prefer activities involving water. Probably accidentally start a water fight, and then while he's dripping wet, go hug Lucifer who protests immensely because he didn't want to get wet at all.

Barbatos - stays exclusively in the shade. While he might be an aquatic demon, Barbatos is more used to the icy black depths of almost arctic water than warm tropical water. Man is sweating and counting down the minutes till they go home (there's still 5 hours to go). Despite being in the shade and wearing (and reapplying) the most sunscreen ends up being incredibly tan or sunburnt afterwards.

Simeon - supervises Luke for the most part. Helps him build sand castles, and holds his hand when the big waves come to the shore while they're walking. Picks up a few shells for Luke too , and when someone else (Beel) offers to take care of Luke so Simeon can relax a bit, he drinks almost as much liquor as Lucifer does.

Luke - is so excited that he doesn't even care if he's showing it. Tries everything minus actually swimming in the ocean (everyone agreed that that activity was probably a little too much and too dangerous for Luke). Even lets himself be buried in the sand. Ends up a little tan and maybe with a light sun burn, but can't wait to go again.

Solomon -ends up also in the shade, probably next to Barbatos so that they can be grumpy together. Didn't even bring anything to do because he knows he's going to sweat too much to really tinker on anything. Futility applies sunscreen knowing damn well he's going to walk away sunburnt regardless.

-------

The Master List

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[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 12

<-----part 11, part 13----->

A/N: Woo new part!!

The last three months have been busy for me. First with Christmas and New Years, then applying to Playtime to adopt, which got approved thankfully. So then I needed to attend an agency sponsored orientation session and once that finished, I needed to get ready for the home interview.  

--------------- 

It was the weekend and DogDay said I could take a few days off to get everything ready for the social worker. I had moved out of my apartment and bought a house. New year new home you know? I asked Sarah if she could help me unpack and she said yes. I was currently unboxing some stuff when my phone started ringing. 

“Unknown number?” Is what I saw on my phone. I answered the phone and said, “Hello?” “Hi Angel!” DogDay?! Where the hell did he get a phone from? “DogDay?” “The one and only Angel.” I smiled and said, “This is a surprise, when did you get a phone?” DogDay laughed on the phone. “Oh no I don’t have one, but you just got one in your office!” “Oh? I didn’t know I was getting a phone.” I went over to the living room and sat down on the one chair I brought with me.  

“Mhm which now means we can talk when you’re not here Angel! Isn’t that great?” “It is!” “So what is my lovely Angel up to now?” I playfully rolled my eyes and said, “I’m just unpacking some stuff that I brought over. I’m waiting for the moving company to bring over the rest of the stuff and the new stuff that I bought. Sarah is gonna come over and help later.” “I still can’t believe you’re gonna adopt Damian Angel.” “Haha what do you mean? You’re the one who told me to remember?” It sounded like DogDay was moving around my office. “I remember Angel. Hey! You didn’t tell me you had my letter laminated.”  

I thought for a moment before remembering what letter it was.  “Oh yeah, haha. I really loved it.” I looked over to my wall and the only picture I had hanging now was the one DogDay gave me for Valentine's Day. The original one was also laminated but it was here with me. The one in my office was a copy I made. “You should sing me my letter some time.” “Oh yeah? Well Angel, my voice isn’t as good as yours, but I’ll do my best. I’ll sing it to you when you come back.”  

The sound of the doorbell spooked me a little. I got up from the chair and looked the peep whole and saw that it was the movers. “I’ll hold you too that love. Hey the movers are here so I’ll call you back later.” “Poo. Alright Angel, I love you~” “I love you too~ mwah! Bye bye.” “Bye bye.” I unlocked the door and put my phone in my pocket. “Hi, sorry I was on the phone.” “Not a problem at all ma’am. If you can tell me which rooms are which so that we can put the boxes in the right room for you.” I nodded and stepped out of the way to let- I looked at his nametag quickly before he walked past me- Adam. That was his name. I moved so that Adam could come in.  

He looked around and I led him to the first room but my picture on the wall caught his attention. “Oh hey, what was his name again? Day-Day? No um DoggyDay? Oh! DogDay! My kids love him. He your husband?” I think my neck popped with how fast I turned to look at him. “Huh?! N-no he’s just my boyfriend.” Adam nodded and said, “Oh, apologize. I thought he was since people these days can now marry almost anything now.” I had forgotten about that law. It just started this year that anyone can marry anything, be it robots, or other characters from different stuff. I don’t think me and DogDay could get married though. He’s owned by Playtime. Just then an idea popped in my head.  

--------------- 

Once I showed Adam around, he and his team brought in everything and placed them in the rooms that they were meant to go in. Not long after Sarah came by and helped unboxing some stuff. After a few hours we decided to go have lunch. It was a nice day outside, so we had lunch outside the restaurant.  

“Thank you again for helping me Sarah.” I said before sipping on my tea. “No prob. Not like I had anything else to do.” I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. “You seem a little down, what’s wrong?” Sarah just chewed on her salad for a good two minutes before swallowing and said, “It’s my kid. She like has asthma and her inhaler ran out yesterday but like I can’t get her a new one because my stupid insurance doesn’t want to like cover for it and just for one inhaler is like $600!”  

I was shocked. I had no idea that Sarah had a kid. “How old is she if you don’t mind me asking.” Another long pause from Sarah. She put her head down while saying, “She’s four years old, almost five.” Damn. I felt bad for Sarah. I was going to say something to her, but she spoke out first. “And don’t like ask me if my parents will like help me because they won’t. They cut ties with me once they like found out that their little fifteen-year-old was pregnant.” I saw tears stroll down her cheek. I handed her a napkin and she took it and wiped her eyes.   

We didn’t say anything else after. Once we finished, I told her I needed to run into the gas station quickly to get something and she said she’d wait outside for me. In a few minutes I came back out and handed her an envelope. “Here.” Sarah stared at it before taking it and opening it up. Her eyes widened and before she said anything I put a hand up and said, “Take it. There’s a little extra in there in case you need anything else.” She had tears in her eyes and without a warning she hugged me. “Thank you, Y/N. You really are an angel.”  

--------------- 

It was now naptime at Playcare which meant there would be no interruptions between me and DogDay. We were both laying down on his bed. My back was to his chest and his arms were wrapped around my waist. “Ready for your song Angel?” “Mhm.” DogDay pulled me in closer to his chest. “It’s just like heaven; being here with you. You’re like an Angel; too good to be true. But after all, I love you, I do. Angel baby. My Angel baby~ When you are near me; my heart skips a beat. I can hardly stand on my own two feet. Because I love you, I love you, I do. Angel baby. My Angel baby~ Wooo who, I love you. Whoo, I do. No one could love you. Like, I do.”  

As he sang out the rest of the letter, I closed my eyes and pictured what life would look like if DogDay and I were together outside of here. I then felt DogDay take off my headband and place a kiss on top of my head. “Did you enjoy my singing Angel?” I wiggled around and turned towards DogDay. “I loved it. You have quite the singing voice.” I leaned in and kissed him, and he returned the kiss back, pulling me closer to him.  

My phone started ringing killing the moment. I pulled away and looked at my phone and immediately groaned. “Let me guess, it’s your mom, right?” “Yep.” DogDay sighed and said, “She always ruins everything.” I laughed at how he said that. I answered the phone. “Hey m-” “Young lady how dare you not tell me that I’d get a call from a social worker asking me questions about you!” DogDay held back a laugh as I made a face. “Mom, I told you that- ah!” I was caught off guard as DogDay moved me onto his torso. My face felt a little flushed as I was now on top of him sitting up. DogDay had this look in his eyes, like he was about to do something. “Hello? Y/N?” “Sorry mom I uh, tripped.” My mom sighed and said, “This is why you’re always hurting yourself, you’re so clumsy. How are you going to raise a child?” Rude. “Listen mom if they didn’t think I could raise Damian then they wouldn’t have made me go through everything that I’ve done already. I have to home inspection coming up and-”  

I stopped talking as DogDay grabbed onto my waist and with his fingers he raised up my shirt a little bit. My heart started beating faster, and I knew by now I was blushing. DogDay had a grin on his face. “As I was saying mom, I um have the home um thing soon and I know that umm..wait nonono hahaha!” DogDay started tickling me. “Hahaha wait no waiit hahahah” “Y/N? What on earth is wrong with you?” “Hahaha stop please! Mom I- haha have to call you b-back haha!” As I hanged up the phone DogDay said, “You’re not escaping me Angel~”  

Five minutes he tickled me. Only five minutes and it felt like an eternity. DogDay moved his paws away and leaned up against the wall. I laid against his chest, trying to catch my breath from all the laughing I did. “My my Angel. I’d thought I’d have you breathing like that from another activity~.” He winked at me and I almost choked on my spit. “Wha huh??!!” “Just kidding.” 

A/N: Be honest, you thought something else was going to happen >:p

[yuri-is-online]

Hi! Congratulations on getting more followers! You totally deserve it:)

Can I ask for prompt 5 with Floyd, Idia and Leona?

Thank you<3

5. Jealousy pt.1- seeing their partner wearing someone else's jacket

（＾ワ＾） thank you annon, your words mean a lot. Of course you can! how did i know Floyd was gonna get this prompt

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, miscommunication and jealousy but everything ends happy. Check out the rest of the event requests here.

Floyd

Floyd unceremoniously dumps you off his in a secluded corner of the gymnasium hallway.   “Shrimpy…" he whines, yanking on the hem of the used gym shirt you are wearing as he uses his other arm to cage you against the wall "where did you get that shirt?” “From the laundry basket in your room this morning?”  He had stolen your blazer a few days ago to as a joke so you had impulsively decided to pay him back by snatching something of his. He's always whining about wanting you to wear is clothes anyway, why is he so upset? “It’s yours isn’t it?” “Nah.” Floyd's lips purse in displeasure.  “Nah, that's Jade’s not mine.  If ya look, he has his name written in stupid little letters on the tag.”  Oh.  OH.  Well, now you just feel stupid and fix your eyes firmly on his shoes. How could you be so stupid? Of course, some of Jade's clothes would be in the room's ONE laundry basket. Hell, you aren't actually sure Floyd uses the hamper now that you think about it. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the teasing as you look up prepared to apologize, only to completely lose your train of thought at the sight of Floyd yanking his jersey over his head. “FLOYD!”

“Huh?  What’s wrong lil shrimpy?" A very sharp grin emerges from the cloth, though he doesn't bother to take his arms out of the shirt just yet. "I'm on the bench aaaaaaaany way ‘s not like I need it.” “You’ll be cold!” It's the wrong argument to make when he practically has you pinned to the wall. “No I won’t,” he giggles, good mood blown back to life by the flames of your embarrassment “and if you’re that worried just stay here and squeeze me.”

Idia

"You're seriously too unaware for your own good." Idia mutters, wrapping himself further into Jack's jacket as you try to hide yourself in his hoodie. The outline of his hair flickers a gentle pink as the two of you try your best to avoid looking at each other.

"He was just worried about me being cold because I wouldn't stop sneezing during class." Idia's sweatshirt smells surprisingly nice, and once you get the courage to look up at your boyfriend he doesn't look bad in the regular uniform jacket either. Though you have to admit, he is at his cutest when he is comfortable and he definitely is not right now.

"We aren't in the same classes so I miss out on time limited quests like that, huh." He mutters, reaching up to fidget with his headphones while you wonder if touching him would spook him too much. "It's almost like everyone forgets we're together."

"I'd never let them do that!" You decide to risk it, wrapping your arms around Idia's torso in a loose embrace he can escape if he needs to. It forces him to really look you over, taking in the full sight of you in his hoodie and a deep, deep breath.

It makes his hair explode into a beautiful hot pink display.

"On second thought take it off." He squeaks, jumping back from your hug and burying his face in his hands.

"Idia-"

"Quick, I can't handle this much agrro!"

Leona

There is an angel at rest in the furthest corner of the NRC library. Their head is firmly smashed against a text book, leaving a clear dent in their cheek that is threatening to turn into a series of paper cuts. Anyone would look at them and be drawn in...

Which was precisely the problem. Someone had forgotten they had a much more comfortable place to nap and a much more comfortable partner than a stack of old books, and hadn't gone looking for him, forcing Leona to do some work for once. And good thing he decided to go on patrol too, some small brained herbivore had decided to try and push in on his territory. As if sensing his presence, you stir in your sleep slightly and Leona suppresses a smile. Barely.

"Oy." Leona bats the offending jacket off from around your shoulders, resisting the urge to turn it to sand, reminding himself that would be petty and beneath him.

Exactly where that jacket was right now.

"Leona?" You murmur sleepily, trying to resist the temptation to rub your eyes. His heart clenches painfully in denial of how cute you are.

"What are you some sort of cub? Making me come looking for you like this." His insults make you smile for some reason as you reach to shove your books back into your bag blissfully unaware of the jealousy storming behind them.

"Let's go take a nap," you hum, well aware those are some of Leona's favorite words "I had a really nice dream about you, wanna actually wake up in your arms next time." Well now, Leona certainly isn't going to argue with that.

[yurmomsawh0r]

“Youu’reee trembliinng.” He sung in such a sinister melodic voice. He couldn’t help but smirk at your smaller form. So tiny. So tiny that all he had to do was grip you by the hair and you’d be putty in his hands.

His foot still sat on your back as he held you in place on his palace floor, you could feel the weight of him as he crushed you. Enough pressure to scare you. Hurt you. Enough to spook you into obedience but not enough pressure kill you. No, he wanted you to fear him. He wanted to feel it course through his blood.

He relished in your fear. In your undying loyalty that he forced you to swear to him and only him.

As he pressed harder, you whimpered from the strain.

It was so cold that your nipples hardened from the marble flooring, but the trembling that sprouted throughout your body was from your fear of being killed by your master.

A blush saturated your face. Remembering the way he strode into his courtroom, demanding your presence. He gripped your arm tightly before throwing you to the floor and placing his foot at your back. Your dress lifted just above your ass, giving him the perfect view of what was hidden underneath.

“You got a lot of nerve little mouse.” Lord Sukuna spat. He was angry. Unpredictable, and you were unprepared to face his wrath.

“I-I apologize my lord! Ah! -“

“Silence wench!” His weight started to get heavier the more he bared down. You were unsure of what you did. As you thought before, he was unpredictable.

You always made sure to never be in his way but it seems things were impossible and out of your hands.

“You like flirting with peasant boys little mouse?”

Huh?

You didn’t understand. You never flirted with anyone. Too scared it would bring unwanted attention like it was now.

“Don’t act as if you don’t know.” His foot was removed and thankfully you were able to gulp down lungfuls of air.

Warm giant hands caressed up and down your legs. Surprisingly gentle, yet still possessive in his touch.

“You know I hate sharing my things little mouse and yet, I find you flaunting this piece of meat -“ A yelp leaves from you as his large hand smacks one of your voluptuous globes.

“Like it doesn’t belong to me.”

“Do you know how many men I had to kill today so that none may speak on ever getting to take a peek at you?”

He chuckles as the memories fill him. Their screams and cries of pain. Throwing his head back in a full blow cackle.

“Too many to count sweetheart!”

Sukuna tsk. “Skinny dipping in a lake without making sure anyone wasn’t there is a bad thing little mouse.” Your eyes widened. Forgetting all about the pain in your lower back and realizing how foolish you had been. A new found fear rising in you.

You could hear the rustling of his pants, smell his musk as he pulled himself out. Feel him dripping on your thighs.

You knew you’d be ruined. You knew he wouldn’t give you mercy. He never did. All you could do is take.

“How about my little mouse come and make me feel better and just maybe I might take it easy on you. . .”

𝐈𝐝𝐤 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[2tcs]

Danny’s Journal or A Countdown to the Beginning

Summary: A look into the year leading up to the accident from the perspective of a forgotten journal.

February 9, 2002

Dear journal. Mom and Dad said they had a surprise for me and Jazz when we get home from school. Please God don't let it be another ghost gun or something. My hair is still singed from the last one.

Update. It was, in fact, a gun. Jazz now has a mild burn on her arm and is screaming how they need therapy. Not disagreeing but I don't think it's going to happen.

February 12, 2002

Dear journal. Happy birthday. A year ago Jazz gave you to me for my birthday. How my parents haven't accidentally destroyed you I don't know.

Me Tucker, Sam, and Jazz went out to eat for my birthday. Sam even had her family driver take us a town over to try that new restaurant. Well, that's what their excuse was.  I think they were trying to get me out of the house for a little bit since Mom and Dad are going on a rampage through the house disassembling all the appliances. It's 10 pm and I can still hear noise coming from the basement.

March 26, 2002

I have the best idea for an April Fools prank. It involves chez whiz and glitter.

April 1, 2002

The prank worked like a charm. The jocks are going to smell like cheese for weeks. And they ain't ever getting the glitter out.

On the downside. Dash broke my arm and Mom and Dad put a “Fenton Anti-ghost Cast” on me. It kinda glows and makes my arm feel weird.

April 23, 2002

Sam’s birthday party was a glorious disaster this year. Her mom decided to do a princess-themed party. We have been preparing for this day since Sam found one of her mom’s work journals. We managed to sneak paint and glitter bombs into the venue before anyone got there. We even managed to get one on each of the chandeliers. It was awesome. Everyone got covered in black paint and red glitter. 

What we didn’t account for was Grandma Ida hiring professional snake handlers to bring in a bunch of snakes for Sam. The snakes were non-venomous and luckily were all caught after one of the rich people bumped into the table that the snake cage was on. And the paint was non-toxic so it was easy to clean off the snakes too without them getting sick. Still kinda feel bad that the snakes got caught in the crossfire though.

May 20, 2002

🎵Schools out for the summer!🎵 Lol this is going to be so exciting. Our last summer as middle schoolers. Nothing but the big leagues after this!

June 13, 2002

Dad wants to go camping for Father's Day so we're going to head out tomorrow morning. Think I heard them mention Lake Arrowhead. That'll be cool. Haven't fished there before.

June 15, 2002

I don't know how but we're in Gotham. Apparently, there's some stupid ghost conversation going on so we're going to be stuck here for the next week. On the pulse side though I found a really cool cafe not too far from the hotel. And they don’t seem to care if you just hang out as long as their not busy and you buy something. Me and Jazz will probably be spending a lot of time here or at their library. It’s huge and has an entire section of space!

June 16, 2002

Turns out I'm allergic to something called Blood Blossoms. Mom and Dad ended up having some guy try to cleanse me of “the evil spook” after I accidentally brushed up against the flowers he had on his table. Jazz had to convince them to get me to the hospital. Luckily one of the guys walking around had an epi pen. So that helped. Still sucks and now I'm stuck at the hotel while Jazz frets like a mother hen. I don't think she's even realized that she has a rash on her hand from when she threw the flowers away from me.

June 19, 2002

So… Batman is real… wtf? He apparently has some questions for Mom and Dad but they haven't come back yet. He apologized to me and Jazz for waking us up and gave us suckers? Which. Weird. And Jazz threw them away when he left because “stranger danger is still a thing even if they are a hero”. RIP little Root Beer flavored DumDum. You will be missed.

And on the other hand, Robin was pretty cool. He's snarky and brave and hilarious and he is just so cool. 10/10 New favorite Robin. He even gave me a book recommendation for the report I'm supposed to turn in at the start of freshman year.

June 22, 2002

We were supposed to leave Gotham today. We were supposed to finally head to one of the lakes on the way home to do some camping and fishing. We were supposed to have a relaxing time. So please journal. Can you tell me why the giant wannabe scaly just threw the GAV? Now we are going to be stuck in this stupid city for another week while Mom and Dad fix it.

June 24, 2002

I made a new friend! Do you remember that cafe I talked about a few days ago? Well, I met a guy there. His name is Jason. He’s an absolute lit nerd but is way cool. The guy’s got muscles underneath his school uniform too. The guy looks like he could snap me like a twig yet isn’t at all like Dash. Hopefully, we can keep in contact after we head back to Amity. For now, we are planning on meeting up at the cafe tomorrow with our favorite books. I found “Star Stories”at the library so I’m bringing it with me. I don’t know if he likes stars but I hope he likes some of the stories about them.

July 9, 2002

Finally back at home. Dad had smuggled fireworks into the GAV (how they didn’t explode when KC threw it in Gotham idk) so we spent the 4th of July shooting them off at the lake. We ended up going to Lake Erie for the camping trip because Mom heard something at the convention about a ghost hanging out around there. Didn’t see any ghosts but the fishing was good. I even caught a bass the size of my head! All around it was really fun! Oh and the stars were so clear! The Summer Triangle was so clear you could point out Vega, Deneb, and Altair! It was so cool! Did you know that Vega is in the Lyra constellation? Or Deneb is in the Cygnus Constellation. And Altair is a part of the Aquila constellation!

Maybe I should ask if Mom and Dad could get me another journal for charting the stars. I’ll need the practice if I want to become an astronaut.

July 29, 2002

It’s a good thing that I got two of everything when me, Sam, and Tucker went shopping for school supplies. I got a lot of new space-themed stuff but the moment I got home Dad insisted on ghost-proofing my new backpack… It melted. I don’t even know how he managed to melt a canvas bag. It didn’t even catch fire first. Just started melting the moment Dad started spraying his new “Fenten Ecto-Rejecto Spray” on it. Wtf Dad.

On the plus side, Sam found a new coffin backpack and Tucker was able to get a new bag that had a pouch that he can put the walkman he got yesterday for his birthday. He is so hyped about it. 

August 6, 2002

School starts next week and I am so hyped. Finally going to be a high schooler. Cool Kids Club here we go!

August 15, 2002

Kill me now. May the Gods strike me down and end my suffering. May the Faits find me lacking and cut my string. May the Crone tear me from the tapestry, the mother rejects my thread from the loom and the maiden take the wool of my youth and set it aside.

Sam has just informed me that that isn’t quite what the Mother, Maiden, and Crone do but whatever. Just know that everything sucks because apparently someone called the house phone and told Mom and Dad that there was a ghost in the school. The A-listers are blaming me for ruining their high school debut.

August 30, 2002

Mom and Dad have started making more noise in the lab than normal. It’s gotten to the point that Jazz has been spending more time at the library to study. Speaking of Jazz, she has been obsessing over self-help and psychology books lately. I mean. Jazz has always talked up therapy but now she’s kinda getting snooty about it. Sam suggested we start hanging out at that gazebo thingy at the park so we can get our work done on the nicer days. We’ll have to hang at Tucker's place though on the rainy days. Sam’s parents have decided that it’s time to put their foot down and get Sam to “socialize with your actual peers Sammy-kins so that you can make better connections and start networking” or whatever. So basically Sam’s mom doesn’t want her to be associated with us plebs I guess.

September 8, 2002

Mom and Dad repurposed the fridge so they could put samples in it. Apparently, the one in the lab broke. The green stuff in the tubes kinda creeps me out. Jazz is yelling at them about it. I kinda agree. Cross-contamination anyone? Think I’m gonna eat out at Nasty more often.

September 28, 2002

Either I’m going crazy or the leftover chicken and noodle soup in the fridge was moving. Like the noodles were wiggling around like worms or something. Jazz ordered pizza.

October 5, 2002

There are new wires in the house now and they glow? Mom said that they had some sort of breakthrough and are using the samples that they have to coat some of the tech in the house to “ecto-proof” it. Apparently, the ectoplasm doesn’t like electronics so they weren’t really able to mix it with tech too well. Some of Mom’s blueprints look like Star Wars blasters. Dad’s are less impressive.

October 29, 2002

Mom and Dad have locked me and Jazz in our rooms because of the “Ghost Menaces”. Me and Jazz have both taped warning signs on our windows so some brave trick-or-treaters don’t accidentally get hurt.

November 1, 2002

The signs worked but I saw Mom and Dad taking off in the GAV around midnight. Whatever. Me and Tucker did manage to reach a new level in DOOM last night so that was cool. And it’s World Vegan Day today so Sam is going to take us out to eat at a vegan place for dinner. I have no clue what Tucker’s going to eat. Well probably get it to-go so he can get something.

I found out where Mom and Dad went last night. The cops showed up and gave Mom and Dad a ticket for destroying a part of the park's water fixture. Someone had organised a haunted forest thing in the park and my parents went absolute ape.

November 2, 2002

Who told Mom and Dad about Dia de Los Muertos? Or that there was a little remembrance celebration/party thing going on today because of it? I’ve decided to make deviled eggs in protest of their chaos and have also bought candy skulls to eat.

November 18, 2002

Apparently, there is an Occult Day(?) and Sam insists we spend the day researching cults. Tucker has found a tech cult online that says there is “Techno Magic” and he is now trying to learn it. Sam has found a book of curses and has been giggling since she found it. Sam giggling is terrifying. I am concerned.

November 28, 2002

The turkey came to life and attacked us. Mom and Dad are blaming ghosts but me and Jazz agree that this is totally their fault for putting the stupid ecto in the fridge. At least the rest of the food was edible. I mean. It had a kinda glowing but I haven’t gotten sick yet. So yay?

November 29, 2002

So the food wasn’t good and I ended up getting sick this morning. fml Jazz is mad that I ate some of it. I am fully aware of what food safety is Jazz. But I was hungry and after the turkey, I was just tired and hangry. I had no clue you had ordered pizza so :p

December 5, 2002

On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me! Nothing because my family is insane. Mom and Dad are already starting their yearly Santa argument. Sam and Tuck are both out of town to visit family for the holidays, Jazz is avoiding the house because it’s “disruptive to my mental development” and I’m grounded for yelling at Dad when he burst into my room and accidentally made my little Rover fall off the shelf and brake.

December 9, 2002

Mom and Dad’s insanity is ramping up. They almost never leave the lab now and whenever I try to bring food down to them they either just mumble and keep working or start arguing again. The whole in the wall has a frame now too.

December 24, 2002

I made a mistake when I brought Mom and Dad their dinner today. In my defense, I was just tired of them yelling about Santa. So I asked why they had hazmat suits but me and Jazz didn’t if ecto was so dangerous. Because if it’s that dangerous then the fact we have ecto in the fridge means that we should all have suits. Jazz is furious with me cause now our parents are making us try on our new suits tomorrow. I am terrified of whatever monstrosity they create no matter how “fashionable” Dad claims they will be.

December 25, 2002

It’s worse than I thought. Mine’s white.

January 15, 2003

Gods, I hate this. I’ve been sick for the past week and Jazz says we’re almost out of soup. I keep going back and forth between being hungry and puking up whatever Jazz feeds me. Mom says that she has some tea that may help but when Dad brought it up it tasted funny. It did make me feel a little better but it just had a really weird taste. Dad said it’s just because I’m sick so everything tastes funny right now.

January 19, 2003

Is it weird that I want to lick the ecto in the fridge? I’m pretty sure it is but it still kinda looks lickable to me. Like how you know that D batteries are not edible but almost everyone has licked one at some point?

Jazz just gave me a lecture about putting things in my mouth that I shouldn’t… Again…

January 27, 2003

Jazz scared me this morning. I walked into the kitchen this morning and just saw glowing eyes. Like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Jazz thinks I’m hallucinating from lack of sleep because of the all-nighter I pulled with Tuck trying to pass the next level on DOOM but I swear that her eyes were glowing.

February 9, 2003

I’m starting to worry. I know they're obsessed with their dumb portal but they haven’t eaten in 2 days. Jazz is planning on going down there and persuading (yelling at them) them to eat if they don’t come up for dinner tonight.

February 12, 2003

Happy Birthday to me. I am now 14 years old. Mom and Dad forgot it was my birthday again. They ran into the kitchen this morning because they completed their portal. They even dragged me and Jazz down into the lab to see them turn it on before we went to school. It didn’t work and now Mom and Dad are going to take a drive around town to clear their heads. They probably won’t be back until dinner time. Sam and Tucker are coming over after school though so at least it will be quiet while they are over. And I think Jazz is going to make a cake if the box of mix I saw her trying to hide from me yesterday is any indication. 

[mi-i-zori]

With Love and Purrs

CoD - Shifter!AU - Cat Shifter!Nikto x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : A kind of headcanon-like thingy about Cat Shifter!Nikto meeting his reason to live.

WARNINGS : Mention of Nikto thinking about how deadly his job is for a moment. Otherwise, this is pure fluff.

Author’s Note : I’m back, and I’ve got a few things to share, starting with this ! The worms have been wiggling about hybrids and shifters lately. Maybe it’ll become a new AU.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

CoD AUs - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Nikto catches sight of Reader multiple times during a long stay at the base they work at. He quickly learns that they have a job in the administration, and comes to appreciate the aura they exude. Their smile seems engraved in his mind both day and night, refusing to leave his thoughts. He finds himself wishing to be the source of their happiness, even if just for a fleeting moment.

Yet he can’t stop his mind from lashing out against this feeling, screaming about how doing so could lead him to another path full of pain ; like it always seems to be.

Which is why he decides to find a compromise with himself and approach them in an… Unconventional way.

He comes to them in his animal form - a black, rugged little stray cat with piercing blue eyes and patches of scarred skin lingering among his already unruly fur. As always, he stays silent ; making them jump when someone points out that a peculiar feline is following them at a distance, never letting them out of its sight.

They immediately start cooing at him, lowering their voice as if to not startle him. They stay where they are, calling him with a hand outstreched towards his form. Despite his usual wary self, he immediately grasps the opportunity between his paws, giving their fingers the tiniest sniff before timidly snuggling against them.

Still, it takes him quite some time before he manages to not instinctively shy or jump away from their touch. Yet they never seem to get tired of him - smiling and slow blinking at him as he lays on what quickly became his special chair and blanket in their office, sometimes talking to him quietly, allowing him a glimpse of their thoughts.

They respect his space, which he is constantly grateful for. They ask for his permission before petting him, slowly coming to hold a hand in front of his nose, and never getting upset when he doesn’t feel like cuddling. They apologize whenever they accidentally spook him, and try to calm him down with a few peaceful words and coos. They try to contain their excitement whenever he allows them to pet or kiss him, yet he can feel it radiating from them.

He become the source of their joy more and more, and he can’t help but feel a little smug about it.

However, he isn’t really fond of their colleagues. Some of them try to force their need for feline cuddles on him despite Reader’s warnings. They make a show of lightly scolding him when he scratches, bites or hisses at the idiots, but never fail to smile and reassure him when he grumbles about it after the unwanted attention-seeker leaves.

« They never learn the lesson, do they ? » They say. « I’m sorry, Baby. » Nikto wishes he could tell them they are not the one who needs to apologize, especially not when they are so good to him.

He also likes that name. Baby. But don’t tell anyone.

One man, though, is worse than the others. He never comes to try and pet him, and Nikto doesn’t care about the way he looks at him, as if he were the scourge of the Earth - he is used to the negativity dancing in the eyes of others on his path, even more in his human form. But the man flirts shamelessely with his human, and he loathes it. He can feel Reader’s discomfort the second that arrogant bastard’s footsteps echo down the hall, and sees the exasperated sigh that crosses their lips just before he automatically makes his way through the door as if he owns the whole place. Nikto makes his point by glaring at him until the idiot gets uncomfortable enough to leave, and hisses when he breezes past his chair on his way out. He relishes in the satisfied smile they give him, the kisses they blow his way as a relieved thank you.

Then comes the day he has to go on a mission again. He doesn’t know how long he will be gone, if he’ll even be able to see them again. His shoulders are heavy as he boards the plane, glancing one last time at the door beyond the tarmac wondering if, somewhere in the building, the one that holds his heart will be waiting for his return.

And said heart leaps with delight when he finally steps on the base’s grounds again ; battered and bruised, exhausted and sore, but alive. He doesn’t waste a second to let his little paws follow the lines of the corridors leading to his Reader’s office. The arrogant flirt is there when he arrives, and Nitko is more than happy to tear their attention away from him the second he walks through their door. He rubs his entire side against their legs, his face against their fingers. He preens as the idiot bites back a snarl and almost runs out of the room ; his love doesn’t even notice, to busy running their hands through his fur as they ask him where he’s been.

« I’ve been thinking, » they say, sounding like they are about to make him the most outrageous of confessions, « would you like to come home with me ? »

Nikto is too focused on trying to quell the erratic beating of his heart to register their nervous babbling about how they asked around and learned he was a stray hanging around the base, and how they have been thinking about it for months. He cuts them off with his first meow in what feels like an eternity. It’s rough, and almost sounds nothing more like a disgusting gurgle in his ears ; but their eyes lit up with happiness, their excitement wafting off of them in unrestrained waves as they pick him up. And he lets them, his claws digging into their shirt as if they were going to vanish right before his eyes.

His new reality settles in as they put him down on the floor of their apartment. The scents are the first thing that hits him. It smells like them, feels like them. The cushions on their sofa are the softest against his rugged pawpads, but so are their carpets and their bed. They let him explore every single corner of their home - his home, they insist on saying, and Nikto’s heart threatens to burst out of his ribcage.

He now spends his days lounging in their office, learning to indulge in his teasing side more as he rolls around on their desk, and his nights in whatever free space of their apartment he feels like invading. He learns to meow more, his voice sounding the tiniest bit clearer every time, and to purr too. The rumbles are awkward and raspy, but he happily lets them out as Reader combs through his erratic fur.

He sighs dreamily whenever they turn their back, wishing he could give them everything they offer him back tenfold. So he takes it upon himself to « groom » them whenever they try to detangle his fur, showering them with his own kind of kisses and silent love. He fights his aversion for touch to cuddle more, savoring the smiles it brings out on their face. He goes to sleep next to their pillow, and wakes up sprawled on top of their chest, listening to their quiet heartbeat.

There’s this one time when they tell him how much he reminds them of a certain masked soldier they crossed paths with a few times back at the base. They gush about the piercing blue of the man’s eyes, so similar to his ; his confident strides, the nods of greeting he took the time to offer them, his silent, brooding and soothing presence in the elevator. They recall the time the soldier shielded them from a pushy idiot, telling him off with the silent sharpness of a stone and the coldness of ice. Nikto doesn’t need to be told the details of this story ; he remembers well the blush coating their cheeks as he escorted them back to their office, wary of the glint that danced in the flirty soldier’s eyes. A blush so similar to the one they carry as they gush about that « imposing gentleman of a stranger » - and probably to the one warming up his own face under his fur.

A part of him is terrified at the idea that they might end up catching on the situation - that the cat they adopted, that they worry about for months when he disappears, is actually that man they would love to know more leaving on deadly missions. He considered multiple times faking his death once more to finally be able to stay with them for good, protect them too. But the thought of being rejected, thrown out for being a disgusting creep, tears his heart apart.

Yet another side of him starts purring the second he thinks about how he could finally be accepted for who he is. A feline shifter, yes, but also a broken man, yearning for love behind the many walls and barriers he hides behind in order to protect himself.

They don’t know the truth, obviously. He’s been very careful about everything, though he can’t do anything about the deployments.

But for the first time in forever, Nikto hopes.

And for the first time in forever, he might be surprised by how sharp his dear Reader can be…

[flashbangstars]

NCT dream as people you met on public transport

as someone who lives in a big city this was simply fitting

Mark

he took the last seat as you both got on at the same stop

he made awkward eye contact as he notices you standing infront of him as he was sitting

and them proceeded to look at you ever couple minutes while he was sitting

he had headphones in, but with how shit they were you could hear the justin bieber songs leaking through and he was now on his 6th jb song

it was like he literally had just a jb playlist

GOD ANOTHER ONE

every time the train would stop for a station he would pull one earbud out and look around wildly and then once he realized it wasn't his spot he would put the earbud back

when you had zoned out staring off into the distance you felt a poke at your leg.

"you can have my seat when I get off"

#1 jb stan was being a gentlemen

you weren't sure if he was aware, but he had been loudly humming the songs as they past and he currently was halfway through one less lonely girl

when the train slowed to your stop, jb stan shot up abruptly leaving less than 2 inches between the two of you

and like screeched a little bit?

Running towards the exit of the train and waiting for the doors to open

once they opened he darted across the platform to the same train on the other side going the opposite way

Justin bieber boy missed his stop too lost in the jb sauce : (

Renjun

your usual go to is putting ur backpack on the seat next to you, (because you get enjoyment from being an asshole)

two stops into your commute, shorty came up to you and pointed at your backpack

you took your airpod out and looked up

"can you move your bag

no "please", no "is it ok" NOTHING

you begrudgingly moved your bag onto to your lap

he sat down next to you and put his own headphones on

the good news was he smelled really good

like sophisticated richness

like he owned a yacht and went to expensive restaurants

you just usually stole whatever perfume your roommate left out in the bathroom (with permission)

and why are the mean looking bitches always hot??

He looks like he perpetually sucks on lemons, but I want him!

halfway through the ride you had been zoned out and knew your stop wasn't for a bit, you felt a tug at your bag

your ass clenched in fear, cuz like am I being robbed??

looking down slightly you watched as ice prince was mindlessly playing with the keychain that hung from your bag that was in his space

you didn't move a inch as if not to spook him (jesus christ hes not a fucking animal)

he then snapped out of it and dropped the keychain and looked up quickly to see if you noticed, not expecting you to be already looking

he flinched a bit and eyes widened

"oh.. I'm so sorry" he apologized putting his hands up

you reach down again and grab the keychain he had been playing with and hold it up

"I got it from gas station because I thought it was cool"

his small hand slowly creeped down again to grab the keychain once more

"oh, It looks really cool" he said softly and played with the charms

you two then spent the rest of the trip talking about the trinkets on your bags

Jeno

he was on the train when you got on, he was sitting at one of the double seats by the door

when he saw you get on he moved his sports duffle from the seat next to him onto the floor and gave you that look of "you can sit here if you want"

he had on those big over ear headphones and a giant ass hoodie n sweats

if you were being honest he was kinda hot

when you sat down next to him it was incredibly hard to not make awkward eye contact with him as he was beside you

it was semi hot outside since it was the end of spring and so you both were in shorts

you had that weird skin to skin contact at first and I think it sparked some sort of carnal desire

very much so a inside us there are two wolves moment

you couldn't even tell anyone about your experience because he could see your screen and you didn't have one of those privacy ones!

you had to suffer in silence, job harder than the soldiers : (

when your stop came, you went. reach above and pull the line, but he beat you to it and reached his arm over you doing it first.

well now you just had to follow him home!

kidding!

kidding!

kidding!

Haechan

You had 10 stops before yours, and you were sitting in front of the lit up board that tracked the stops.

your roommate got on usually 5 stops after you to join you otw home so you weren't worried about missing the stop

You put headphones in and leaned your head back to escape the harsh bright lights of the train.

30 minutes pass and you open your eyes to your roommate sitting on the side opposite you with a devious ass look on her face

the rest of your body wakes up from your power nap and become aware of the weight on your head and your arms

you had fallen asleep and wrapped your hands around the arm of the guy next to you..

and you had rested your head on his shoulder...

what the FUCK DO I DO NOW?

A Midst your panic you notice the weight on top of your head....

HE HAD FALLEN ASLEEP ON YOU????

you slowly snake your hand out from his arm and check your phone.

you had 67 notifications in your groupchat...

opening it, you find 7 pictures of you and this literally STRANGER asleep on each other.

waitttttt.... whys he kinda hot......

this actually may not be bad!

love and affection FOR THE FREE?

lemme take my ass back to sleep

the next time you woke up you had been repositioned now with your head on your friends shoulder

damn how fucking hard did you sleep....

you look around and nap stranger had disappeared

you felt your heart clench at the loss of your momentary wattpad relationship, mourning the hot man who had fallen asleep on you

becoming aware of your limbs again you tighten your grip around your phone and bring it up to check the notifications to find a bright yellow post it note stuck to the screen

"thanks for the nap : ) 999-999-9999"

this was a major win for women everywhere

Jaemin

the bus in the morning was this like devastating liminal space

it was cold

the lights were bright

and you kinda wanted to get hit by the bus

because of how early it is, you usually were one of the only people on the bus

today two stops in a fucking mens model on on the bus!!

sir what are you doing in this metal prison!

he sat in the back on the raised portion while you stayed in the front

you glanced up to look at him again, because.. shit if this was going to be the highlight of your morning you would take it

but when you looked up you made direct eye contact with him

playing off smoothly you did the thing where you kinda look to the side ish

looking back again you make eye contact AGAIN

hello???

as you two hold this prolonged eye contact, he raised his hand and waVED?

yall hear that meowing??? thats just my puss- GUNSHOTS

you wave back and smile your best "Im a innocent girl, but can take it like a champ" smile

and watch as he grabs his bag and stands

ur ass clenches thinking this will be the last time you may come across prince charming, but then unclenches when you realize it is also your stop

Getting up you follow ahead and go to the door exiting. walking down the street in the early morning listening to some fuckass songs trying to make the reality of 8 am classes seem better

when a hand grips your shoulder

21 years of being a woman and also a anxious mess you scream and turn around with your hands up

just to see sexy man from bus!

sexy man from bus what are you doing here?

"i am so sorry, you just didn't here me calling, so I just grabbed you I don't know why I did that, especially you're a woman alone, I don't know why I didn't think of that first?.."

sexy bus man was now rambling

"its ok!!" you say trying to put SBM (sexy bus man) out of his misery

"oh uh, well you left this on the bus, when you got up I think it got stuck on the seat, and i figured since we got off at the same stop I would just grab it.."

rambling seemed to be a common occurrence for SBM

looking down you saw the familiar hello kitty keychain you had on the back of your bag that you spent way to much money on a claw game for in his hand

"thank you sexy bu- SIR"

"..... your welcome"

Chenle

it was 7am on a Wednesday night and bro just got on the train in a pair of sunglasses on.

it was almost never that serious

it was in the morning and you were waiting for a friend and saving a seat hence the double seat with one side with your backpack

the sunglasses walked down the aisle and stopped at your chair.

not even asking, he grabbed your backpack with his grimy hands and moved it to be next to you, then sitting down opposite

you literally felt your eye twitch because like HUH?

"excuse me? I'm waiting for someone, they literally just got on at this stop"

sunglasses perked up the slightest and directed his gaze towards you "I don't see them"

you literally felt your eye twitch again and you chest tighten because of the audacity

your friend at that moment walked into the car, prompting you to point and say "okay well she's here now, you can move"

to which sunglasses shrugged and and said "I'm comfortable, why are you so opposed to sharing?"

you heard your friend laugh in disbelief and your eye twitched AGAIN

Your friend squished in next to you and you ended up sitting across from Sunglasses

your thighs were burning from you sitting tightly so your knees wouldn't brush, and your resolve to stare at him until his exploded was dwindling

with a huff you relaxed and felt your knee nudge his and cried a little inside but dealt with it

When the train arrived you got up and walked out of the seat before he could and went to your bus stop

sitting at the bend you felt a tap at your shoulder and looked up

GASP it was sunglasses! without sunglasses!

GASP why was sunglasses kinda hot!?

GASP wait why sunglasses here?!!!

Sunglasses smiled a bit and put his hand out "I figure I'd introduce myself, since we had such a lovely time on the train together, I'm Chenle"

you could feel how wide your mouth was hanging in disbelief and you stared at the surprisingly well manicured hand in front of you

but deciding against your morals, you shook his hand and introduced yourself

"nice to meet you Y/N, you wouldn't mind if we sat together on the bus right"

Jisung

The train during rush hour was a fucking nightmare, your class ended at 4:50 and the only line that could take you to your apartment from the university is the most popular one

when the door open you pushed in to the train and literally no seats were open.

you gripped the railing and tried to widen your stance a bit to keep stability

the train started and apparently the conductor was having a bad fucking day because he was fucking stomping on the breaks

each stop jolted you so aggressively that you feared for your life and dignity if you were to fall on this here train

after about three stops of fighting for you life, your hand was beginning to be slip from the sweat on the railing and your arm was throbbing from tensing for the last 20 minutes

all of a sudden the conductor hits the break once

...your hand slipping from the railing

and then hits it again a second time

.........you lose your footing

you fall backwards and close your eyes waiting to land embarrassingly on your ass.

instead............

you fall on the seats behind you

you feel a hand out of instinct grab your waist to stop you from falling more and another hand goes on your thigh to stop your legs.

opening your eyes you make eye contact with someone.....who honestly looks more scared/embarrassed than you are??

He looks like a guy around your age and is staring at you with these dark eyes as if you were taking your last dying breath in his lap

"are you okay" he asks sounding... once again more embarrassed than you were!???

"I'm okay! thank you!" you say still sitting bridal style in his lap

neither of you moves

like he still is deadass cradling you right now in public

"uh can I get up...?" you say and you watch his face flush red all over

"OH yeah, I'm so sorry" he says unhanding you

you stand in front of him and grab onto the loop in front of him

and..... you both spend the rest of the train ride avoiding eye contact because you both turn red when you do meet eyes.

______

im going to proofread later pls excuse if it seems like im illiterate

[chloe-skywalker]

Protection - Jaime Lannister

Jaime x fem!reader Stark

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 2,033

Summary: Reader is a Stark stuck in King's Landing after everything and including her fathers death. The only one that seems to care about her is shockingly Jaime Lannister.

Authors Note: I think after the changes Jaime’s character made from being held captive by the Stark’s and losing his hand plus his time with Brienne that he would be protective of the Stark girls. The oath he made to Catelyn he didn’t want to break, so I think that means something. Just like he couldn’t himself but he helped himself and Breinne by sending her to go look after and find Arya and Sansa. - I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to be romantic or him protecting her because she resembled what he thought a daughter of his own would be like or if he was honoring his promise to Catelyn. I tried to leave it open.

Masterlist

Game Of Thrones Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Y/n didn’t understand what she had done in life to deserve this treatment. To have the recent events happen in her life. To watch her little brother almost die from a horrible fall, to then having to watch her father be executed, she didn’t know where her youngest sister was, she had to watch her other younger sister be tormented by a brat that was only going to become a awful king, and her older brother by a year had started a war to get them back with their mother by his side.

But how she had managed to have the Queen’s rath bestowed upon her in physical abuse. Y/n didn’t know how that happened and she knew for fact she hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

But Y/n had been in Kings Landing long enough to know that Cersei and Joffery didn’t need reasons to be cruel. It just seemed to be part of their personality.

Tyrion was the only kind one to Y/n and Sansa. Along with his friend Bronn and man servant Podrick. Y/n didn’t trust anyone else in the Red Keep.

Lately Y/n noticed Jaime, ever since he got back he had been trying to get close to her and Sansa. But neither Stark knew what to make of it. He really was trying to get closer to Y/n, but Y/n was worried that it was some kind of plan from Cersei.

It was a normal sunny day, Y/n actually thought it’d be a good day to go out and walk or ride but leaving her room? That didn’t feel like a good idea, given her appearance.

Suddenly in the incredibly quiet room there were sounds of knocking on her chamber doors. Y/n gave a soft ‘come in’, just loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear.

Upon seeing Jaime Lannister Y/n nervously started ringing her hands at what they might have planned for her now. “Ser Jaime. To what do I owe this visit to?”

Jaime shook his head. “I’m not here on any business.”

“Oh?” Y/n was curious but she still wanted to be cautious. So she kept her head down. For more than just that reason though.

Jaime noticed the way she was holding herself and it reminded him of a scared animal. So he raised his arms to show he didn’t mean her any harm. Her behavior made his eyes fill with concern. “Y/n, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Y/n realized that this could be very bad so she needed to back track. “Ser Jaime, I-I meant no o-offense.” She stuttered shaking her head but still keeping it down with her hair framing her face to cover her face from his view.

“You made none. No reason to apologize.” He quickly reassured.

As they stood there Jaime took more notice of things. Things that were making him more concerned by the second. So he took enough steps to be standing right in front of her.

“Y/n, look at me. Please.” Jaime asked, but when he noticed how she was so hesitant to do as he asked. Jaime slowly raised his hand to lift her chin, as gently as possible to not spook her. When she was finally looking him in the eye, face to face is when Jaime noticed. She has a bruised cheek bone which to him looked almost like it belonged to a fading black eye, and she had a cut on her eyebrow and her lip. No wonder she was hiding her face, he thought. “Who did this?”

“No one, Ser Jaime. I fell that’s all.” Y/n quickly tried to dismiss, hoping he’d let it go. If she said something and he was sent by Cersei, then it’d get worse. If he was genuinely concerned for her and she told him, he might not believe her. His twin sister did it after all.

“Please don’t lie to me, Lady Y/n.” He pleaded with her. His concern was growing more and more. But he also had his suspicions. “Who did this?”

Y/n cast her sight back down to the floor, not wanting to lie to his face. With how much genuine concern was in his eyes and actions, she felt bad lying to him. “No one, Ser.”

Jaime let out a sigh, he could clearly see she wasn’t going to verbalize her answer. Which inwardly gave him his answer anyway and he could feel anger bubbling up inside of him. He knew in his gut who did this, and he wasn’t going to let it go. “Can I see you later Milady?”

Y/n nodded, stepping back still not lifting her gaze. Of course she said he could. He seemed to be one of the only people who cared as of late, but also she didn’t really have a choice. Not in her situation. “If you so wish to, Ser Jaime.”

Her behavior honestly scared Jaime slightly. She didn’t seem like the same girl he met in Winterfell or the same one that was in Kings Landing when he lft and was captured.

Ever since that encounter Jaime had been visiting and spending a lot more time with Y/n Stark. No one would bother her with him at his side.

But Jaime had yet to have that talk with his sister. But today was the day, he had heard some concerning things from the handmaidens assigned to Y/n and he was fuming.

“Ah, brother. What is so urgent that you came barging into my chambers without knocking.” Cersei spoke sarcastically as he barged into her room.

“What did you do to Y/n Stark?” He asked, getting straight to the point, face red with anger.

“The little bitch. Well, what did she say?” Cersei scoffed at even turning to look at her brother.

“Nothing. She said nothing. I came here to you on my own.” Jaime wanted to yell, how could she be so cold.

“How do you know it was me? The girl is quite clumsy.” Cersei smirked, and Jaime wondered if Y/n’s excuse of falling was something she was told to say.

“Oh, I know your handy work when I see it.” He scoffed stating a fact that not even Cersei could argue with.

Cersei could tell he wasn’t gonna drop it once she looked at him, so she sighed and said. “I assure you she deserved it.”

“I can guarantee that she didn’t.” He countered. Jaime knew how petty his sister could be and revenge was something she enjoyed. She wasn’t going to fool him.

“You weren’t here.” She shook her head and growled out her words. Why was he even bringing this up?

“Doesn’t matter.” Jaime didn’t need to be there to know Y/n didn’t deserve his sister's warth.

“Why do you care for this girl?” Cersei asked with a furrowed brow.

“Cersei-”

“No. Why? Why do you care for her so much? After everything her family’s done to ours?!” She yelled at him getting up from her vanity table and stormed over to where he stood.

“She had no part in that!” He yelled back, done with trying to be social.

“Why do you protect her?!” Cersei spat with clear jealousy. Of course she noticed him protecting her but why was what she couldn’t figure out and that angered her more and more. Someone having her twin's attention other than her never sits well with the golden haired Queen.

“Don’t touch her again, Cersei. I mean it.” Jaime stated in a low voice. His expression and tone shocked Cersei. He’s never used either on her and deep down it did shake her a bit. He’s never been this mad at her, or this deeply apparently.

Jaime was going to make sure that Y/n was taken care of. No one would harm her ever again. That he’d promise her. Not even his sister. If Cersei did she’d regret it because he was done with her cruelness.

“And what will you do if I do decide to touch her again?” She questioned as he looked at her so seriously she honestly was starting to feel uncomfortable.

“You don’t want to find out.” He stated before turning to leave, as he opened the door Jaime felt pride in himself. He stood up to his sister for something he believed in.

“Is that a threat?” Cersei asked with narrowed eyes trained on her brother's back.

“Its a promise.” Jaime said before slamming her door behind him. He felt good and now he felt a weight lifted off of himself and Y/n. Sure he still had to watch their backs but Cersei wouldn’t do anything to go against him if she was as smart as she acts.

^     ^     ^

It had been a pretty normal day but Y/n just felt that they all blended together since so much had happened. Things had shockingly gotten better since Jaime and her had become close. But nothing good ever lasts is what she had learned being in King's Landing.

“Come in.” Y/n said upon hearing knocking at her room doors. She turned to face the door after hearing it open, seeing Jaime enter with caution. “Ser Jaime.”

“Lady Y/n.” He bowed his head with a soft smile on his lips, but as he looked around the room and noticed the uneaten food sitting on the table. Jaime’s concern came bubbling back up 10 fold. The handmaidens had told him she was skipping some meals and it worried him. But seeing it was worse. “The handmaidens said you haven’t eaten today.”

Y/n shrugged looking away from him. “Not very hungry.”

Jaime knew that part of it could be the stress of what's happened. It could also be her injuries that made it painful to chew, or it could be something Jaime really hoped it wasn’t. He didn’t even want to think about that idea.

Jaime stepped over to her, brushing her hair away from her face with his hand. Uncovering the still recovering injuries to her face. “Does it hurt?”

Of course it hurt still but he had been so kind to her she didn’t want to worry him. So she shook her head softly. “Not much anymore, Ser.”

“You don’t have to keep up the formalites with me, Y/n.” He smiled softly hoping to make her more comfortable around him. Show her he meant no harm.

“I shouldn’t-” She looked at him with wide scared eyes.

“I’m telling you you can. So you can.” Jaime stopped her calmly, looking her in the eyes. He could see how scared she was to do anything that might cause her to be harmed. Anything that might make it so she could be punished. “I won’t hurt you like my sister.”

“I-” Y/n’s eyes widened, just when he made her a little more comfortable again he say’s that. Y/n shook her head at him in fear. She didn’t tell him who did it so how did he know? Now that he knew what would happen to her? What would the Queen do to her now? Y/n was panicking on the inside.

“You didn’t have to tell me, and don’t worry I’ll protect you from Cersei.” Jaime told her, she had to know. But seeing her so panicked made his heart clench, so he started running his hand through her hair to comfort her and calm her nerves and mind. Jaime grimaced at her reaction for a second. This poor girl was terrified and it was all because of his family.

“How?” Y/n asked him while looking at him like he’s crazy. How could he, a knight, protect her from the Queen? Nobody could control Cersei.

“In any way I can, and I will. She will never harm you again. No one will. Not on my watch.” Jaime vowed to the poor girl that was stuck in this predicament. Not by her own choosing had any of this happened to her. And he was going to stop it and make her life better.

Taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @misspendragonsworld

@starkleila

[softspace-fics]

Hiiiiii I just read your new loki fic with a disabled little and I was amazing to read especially when it's relatable like that I have a bad relationship with my health 😅

If your comfortable with it I really feel that a stucky x disabled little would be a perfect match cuz bucky is disabled (just in a cooler way with the vibranium arm) and iv been reading how you write bucky and Steve and they just want what's best for they're little so I need to read them helping the reader be more comfortable with they're disability.

You can ignore this but I just wanna say I love your blog and I hope your having a great day

-🦄

Hurts.

Masterlist - All my work!

A/N - hiii! I am so sorry your request took a little bit because I wanted to make it similar yet different to my story "It's hard." because everyone's experience with pain and why they don't feel comfortable with others when in pain, or for why they have bad relationship with their health is completely different. I wish I could include everyone in each post, and if you'd like to share your story with me I'd love to know, your never alone in your battles. If you have any feed back please let me know!

Warnings⚠️: mentions of rough family life, parents saying meds should fix the pain, ignorance of how pain affects someone, negative regression, mentions of bucky in hydra but nothing significant, please let me know if I missed anything!!

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader

___________

Bucky understood what it was like to be in unbearable pain, feeling like your entire body was being ripped to shreds. He had been stuck being experimented on for how long? When he told Steve about how he felt on a daily basis even after not being experimented on for a while, Steve did his best to learn how to help him out when the pain just made it unbearable.

This meant that steve tried hard to figure out the best ways to help anyone who was in severe amounts of pain. He tried epsom salts, different type of ointments, mental care, anything he possibly could think about to make bucky comfortable. 

So when they met you, you didn’t seem out of the ordinary for them, to them you were seen as such sweet person and you were pretty confident. When people would talk to you, you helped them out if you could, or were polite in saying you couldn’t. 

You had originally met the two in a library when Steve and Bucky were looking for different types of books to try and learn more about the world today. You were trying to reach for the book on the highest shelf, and pain was shooting through every fiber in your body. You were exhausted and uncomfortable when you saw Steve's shadow behind you and got spooked. You jumped and nearly fell over from moving too quickly off your tippy toes. He gently grabbed your arm to stabilize you before smiling at you and apologizing for scaring you.

He asked if you needed help with getting the book off the shelf and you quietly said yes. It was one of your favorite childhood books, you read them sometimes when you regress, although  he didn’t need to know that. You felt bad making him do it for you, even though he asked. You know it wasn’t anything significant but you had never been able to accept help. 

Your family barely paid any attention to your pain, you were thrown on meds that did nothing when you were a kid and they stopped caring. Everytime you said something you always got “Well, did you take your meds?” “Your meds worked yesterday, don’t lie to me” Meds this, meds that. It got to the point you stopped taking meds and never asked your parents for help with your pain. 

When you were able to finally get into doctor offices by yourself you got meds that helped somewhat, but you still never felt as if you could rely on anyone else to help with your aches and how you felt on the inside. You had meds which meant that you should be fine and learn to deal with the pain on your own. Right?

You had seen the duo in the bookstore quite often after the first interaction, learning they were together and they were shocked when you told them you had no clue who “captain America” or the “winter soldier” was. You never really payed attention to the world outside of your bubble, you couldn’t relate to a lot of people so you shut off a lot of the outside. 

Eventually they asked you out, and from then on is history. But something you still hadn’t told them about was the chronic pain, and the regression that came from it. You had times where getting out of bed was the worst idea ever, showering was beyond out of the question, and regression was the only option your brain had.

You’d regress young enough that you could toddle and make it from point A to point B, but past that you had no survival when you were in so much agony. This means there became times you didn’t eat for hours, you’d sleep longer than you should, and there would be times you didnt respond for hours to anyone.

Bucky and Steve got super worried on days you never replied, they tried to let you have your space, thinking that it was something that you just did, but when you didnt show up for a date at their place, they ran over, thoughts racing.

They knocked on your door which woke you up, but you had no energy to attempt in getting up. Not knowing it was them, you assumed it was a package and tried to go back to sleep when they knocked louder.

Steve continued to knock while bucky prayed that you had left a key outside to your apartment incase you lost yours. He looked under a brick and practically ran to get your door open. Thank god that he remembered people put keys under rocks.

When they got in the apartment, the quickly rushed to find you. Scanning and worridly running around.

“Y/N??” Steve shouts, checking the bathroom.

“Sweetheart?!” Bucky yells as he opens the door to your room, where he finds you crumpled in pain, your room darker than a cave.

“Please, stop screaming.” You mumble quietly, you clutch your stuffie to your chest, your regression starting to set in after being brutally awaken.

Bucky quickly comes and sits by your side, helping to pull the blanket away from your face, looking at you with complete and utter concern.

Steve eventually comes in with some things in his hands, bucky looks at him puzzled before connecting the dots.

See, Bucky found you, but Steve found your regression and safe room. Where you had soft toys and padding everywhere. It was something you had filled with everything that you could need for when your regressed, and when it hurt too much to move.

The two knew what age-regressors were from tony, seeing as him and Stephen were the proud caregivers of Peter and Wanda. So when Steve saw your pacifier and heating pads, and anything else that might help, he grabbed it all.

“Baby, can you tell us whats wrong?” Bucky softly asks, tucking your hair behind your ear, Softly rubbing your thigh with his thumb.

“Hurts.” you mumble out softly, you slowly flip over, and bury your face into bucky's stomach. His scent fills your lungs, and he slowly starts to rub your back, holding you closely. 

Steve comes up behind Bucky, his face contorted to a face of his own pain. He hated seeing you so upset, and mowing you were trying to fend for yourself, by yourself, hurt him.

“Do you want your pacifier darling?” Steve gently asks, he wasn’t sure if you knew he had found your room, and wasn’t wanting to freak you out.

Hearing him ask that question, you looked up from bucks embrace with pure terror. How did he find it? Why was he so calm about it?

Bucky softly cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead before pulling you back into his embrace, rubbing small circles on your back before he speaks calmingly.

“Doll, we know about regression or age-dreaming, there's nothing to be afraid of, we promise.”

You relax into his hold before slowly nodding. Steve hands you your paci and you slide it between your lips and just rest against bucky, the pain minorly subsiding with the extra pressure of his hug.

“Baby, I know that the pain can be hard to handle, but you don't have to go this alone, you'll never be alone now that we're here. Whatever we can do, we want to do it. Please never feel as if you have to fight this battle alone.” Bucky manages to barely whisper out, fighting his own emotions.

Your tears begin to fall, hearing words you've never heard before. You’ve had to fight by yourself for so long, that maybe them knowing wasn't for the worst.

“Your not alone anymore, never alone. We're with you now. The pain doesn't have to be suffering anymore, let us help.” Steve sits next to you and buck, rubbing your back and leaving little kisses on your head.

You slowly nod, wanting someone to be there, maybe this time, you'll be able to accept the help. The right help.

[mafiatsunafish]

The daggers were surprised to see a man that looks like a younger version of Rooster walking into the Hard Deck.

He had the pilot starter pack, Hawaiian floral print shirt, sunglasses hanging on his inner white shirt and all that jazz.

But there was something just so wrong with him, the daggers couldn’t seems to wrap their head on what exactly was wrong.

And then they saw Hangman trailing behind the said man looking weirdly worried and awkward.

“Roo, I’m sorryyyyyy.”

The blond’s apology spooked the entire squad cause the know he DOES NOT say sorry to anyone, except when he really screwed up.

Another thing, so that man was Rooster but apparently just missing something?

Ah

A small cartoonish light bulb appeared on Phoenix head. She shouted:

“Hey Rooster, where the hell is your mustache!?”

It has been years since the last time she saw his bare face like that, ever since their orientation at flight school. Therefore, this creeped the fuck out of her.

Now the other daggers took a few seconds to reboot their brain and updated on the situation, started to boom bard the tall brunet with many questions.

To be fair, none of them NONE OF THEM ever see Rooster without his infamous porntasche, so oh my my for them.

Then Halo seemed to find out another thing that just out of place on Rooster point out.

“Rooster, that is one nasty black eyes you have there man, alright?”

The pair, Hangman and Rooster now sat with their squad, the blond still looked weird and the brunet looked so done but still somehow amused.

“Just feels like I want to shave it.”

Rooster shrugged easily.

“And the black eye in on me.”

Hangman suddenly answered and that take their friend out.

“Uhmmm.. what happened? May I asked? Should I even know?” Coyote asked wearily.

“This bastard, decided to shave his face, bare, without saying anything. Then acted like nothing happened, hugged me from behind when I was cooking. I turned around to see a fucking stranger standing in my kitchen so I punch him.”

“What!?” Their friends shouted

“It’s not my fault that I’ve never see him without damn thing on his face!”

Hangman shouted back while Rooster just laughing beside him.

“I vetted him for that, the last time I saw our chicken’s bare face was in our first week of flight school and that was years before Hangman meet him.” Phoenix was also laughing now.

“I’m alright now, just a punch. He screamed bloody murder when he saw my face like this too.” Rooster added

“Roooooo!” Hangman hid his face behind his hands and Rooster just kissed him softly on his side, still laughing of course.

“It’s ok darling.” Rooster said to his lover.

“Damn, but I understand what Hangman did cause you looked so weird” Bob said while giggling.

“Please put it back.” Fanboy distress mumbling get drowned among his squad mate various noise of amusement.

(The first time Mav and Ice saw Rooster with his mustache through a picture Slider sent them.

Slider was stationed at Rooster based then, he had to call the husbands to warned them first, before sending the picture.

But still.

Mav almost have a panic attack and Ice was so shocked, they then just crying that whole evening. Nothing can prepare them to see how much their godson looks like his father. To the point they almost believe that was Goose, standing there in his flight suit, smiling brightly at them.)

(The autocorrect had me rolling fr )

[a-killer-obsession]

PITCHING TENTS ⛺️

Kid Pirates x AFAB Reader Modern AU Campground Series

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you went camping to spend time alone. At first, that had been the case, but you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger.

Masterlist || AO3 || Part One

PART 5/6 - TAKE A HIKE (Wire + bonus Heat)

CW: somnophilia, p in v sex, unsafe sex, creampie, public sex, semi-public sex, outdoor sex, choking, spanking, deep throating, face fucking, use of colour consent system, hate fuck, degrading language, fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, aftercare

WC: ~3.5k

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin @bbnbhm

You expected the sweltering warmth in the small tent that came with sharing the room with a human radiator like Heat, but what you didn't expect were the wet sloppy sounds of his tongue buried in your pussy as you woke up on your belly. It shouldn't have been a surprise really, you'd both gone to bed naked and if you were him you'd probably want to take a bite out of your juicy ass for breakfast too. Your moans alerted him to the fact that you were awake, but he didn't let up, bringing you to an orgasm that was already almost fully formed before you'd even come too. He ran his arms up and down your thighs, fondling the fat on your ass whenever his hands reached them, greedily lapping up your creamy release.

“Sorry,” he kissed your thighs in apology as he finally let up, “couldn't help myself,” he bit down on the flesh of your ass and you let out a squeak, earning a possessive growl in response.

“Well? You gonna fuck me then, Heat?” You purred, raising your ass a little to give him access. He gave your ass a small playful spank before lining himself up, his knees either side of your legs, sheathing himself with a groan. He pushed your ass back down flat, the extra pressure making him wild as he started to fuck you at a desperate and needy pace, already having been hard and craving for an hour before he'd caved and eaten you out.

“Hnng, so tight,” he moaned, grunting with every thrust he made, the wet sounds of flesh smacking against flesh no doubt audible to anyone who might pass by, or who might be awake next door. You didn't care, you loved being loud, and you moaned shamelessly as he rutted into you, chasing his own release. His long blue hair made a curtain around you, tickling your back as he moved.

“Yes, yes, use me baby,” you moaned, “oh that feels so good, use me like your little cocksleeve”

“Fuck,” he grunted against your shoulder blade, his forehead pressed against you as he penetrated you so fucking deep, his piercings rubbing against your g-spot and making you see stars. “Dirty girl,” he groaned, “gonna- gonna fill you up”

“Breed me, baby,” you purred, every muscle in your body tensing and releasing as his hard thrusts made you cum suddenly with a scream. You clamped down hard on him as you came, and he let out a whine as he unloaded inside you, his massive load dripping out as he made his final thrusts, making sure he painted your walls with every last drop, before finally collapsing against your back.

“So good~” you mumbled in your afterglow haze, “so fucking good~ hnng~”

“You two done? I made breakfast,” Killer called from outside your tent, tapping on the fabric wall. Heat spooked and pulled out, falling backwards off the mattress with a heavy thunk, very nearly taking the whole tent with him as he hit the flexible wall. Killer gave the rounded silhouette against the wall a small kick and laughed, Heat quickly scooting away from it lest he be booted again.

“Oi!” Heat scowled, “don't fuckin’ spook me like that!”

“Cry me a river, lovebird,” Killer laughed, “breakfast is on your table [y/n], for both of you”

“Thanks Kil!” You called back, hearing the gravel crunch underfoot as he headed back to the kitchen building.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Heat mumbled, throwing on his pants and unzipping the tent door to quickly retrieve the plates. You wrapped yourself in a blanket as he came back in, and set up your laptop so you could both watch a movie while you ate, Ipad baby realness.

Heat had stuck around for the remainder of the movie and a little of another until Killer returned to let him know he and Kid were heading to the beach. They invited you as well, but today was your last full day at camp and you wanted to take advantage of the nice weather to go for a hike. Plus, you fucking hated beaches, there was no good way to fuck a stranger on a beach without finding sand in your pussy for the next month. Lunch, water, drawing supplies and a picnic blanket packed in your backpack, you took a quick shower and redressed in a tank top and shorts, along with a sturdy pair of boots, and headed for the trail.

The hike wasn't too difficult, there were a few areas that were near vertical, practically climbing up the embedded stones like the world's least practical staircase, but the rest of the walk was quite pleasant. It was mostly through dense forest, the only sound around you being the native birds calling to each other, and the crunch of dirt under boots. Every now and then the path would veer close to a cliffside, offering an unhindered view of the valley that got better and better the further up you got. At the summit was a small clearing, space enough for a few picnic blankets at a time, and a flat forested area behind that was ideal if you had to take a piss while you were up here. From the clearing you could see all the way to the other side of the valley, to further along where the valley met the ocean, and the small uninhabited islands a little way off the coast.

You were glad for the near constant shade on the way up, but with the sun now high in the sky you set about laying out your blanket and coating yourself in sunscreen. You took a long drink of your water as you sat down, before pulling out your lunch and enjoying the view while you ate. Hunger sated, you pulled out your art supplies and doodled.

You must have been up at the summit for maybe half an hour when soft footfalls on dirt alerted you to the approach of another hiker. You turned and smiled to yourself as you saw Wire coming up the trail, though he hadn't seen you yet, his eyes focused on the uneven ground under his feet. You turned back to your drawing pad as you waited for him to finish his ascent, hearing the indignant huff behind you as he noticed you sitting there.

“Ah, Wire, step into my office,” you patted the blanket next to you.

“No,” he replied flatly.

“Sour puss,” you snorted. There was a long silence as he just stood behind you, admiring the view, before turning his gaze down at you curiously.

“What are you drawing?” He finally relented. You lifted your sketchpad for him to see the, in your opinion very tasteful, drawing of Heat's pierced dick. “For Christ's sake” he scowled, he wished he didn't recognize the drawing so clearly.

You giggled as you brought the sketchpad back down, closing it and setting it back in your bag. You laid back on the blanket, enjoying the sun on your midriff and legs, your arms folded under your head and your eyes closed. Wire's eyes scanned down your body before letting out a huff and sitting cross legged beside you.

“Finally decided to allow my company, have you?” You smirked, your eyes were still closed but you could feel the shift in the air and hear his clothes moved as he sat.

“Whatever,” he grunted, “just trying to enjoy the view. Don't get any ideas, slut, I'm not fucking you just cos the others all have”

“I wear that title with pride thank you very much,” you replied, “besides, given how good your friends are, I seriously doubt you could do any better, so why would I bother?”

“Take a fucking hike, slut,” he growled.

“I already did, how do you think I got here?” You snorted, “asshole”

Before you could register what was happening his hand was on your throat, not choking, but certainly adding enough force to be threatening. You weren't scared of him though, you knew he was just worked up. In truth he probably needed to get laid, badly. Maybe then he'd fucking relax.

“You're gonna have to do it harder than that if you wanna kill me,” you smirked, “unless you're just trying to play the dominant? Is that what you want, big boy? You wanna throw me around, show me who's boss?”

“Yes,” he growled, “fucking brat”

“Then do it,” you spat directly in his face, your pussy already slick with the promise of a rough hate fuck. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked at you. His expression read as boredom, but his pupils were blown out with lust.

“You know the colour system?” He said, holding your throat a little tighter while his other hand yanked your tank top up enough to free a breast and grope it hard.

“Yes sir,” you smirked, “do your fucking worst”

In a flash he had you up on your feet, dragging you easily, one hand still on your throat, the other under your ass to support your weight so he wouldn't actually choke you. He dropped you next to a tree, spinning you to face it and pulling your shorts and panties to your ankles without even bothering with the fly. His large hands squeezed the flesh of your ass, before he pulled your hips away from the tree, forcing you to support your weight against the bark as you bent over. He lifted his hand and brought it down fast, the reverb of his harsh smack on your ass echoing in the surrounding trees. You choked out a moan, silk dripping down your inner thighs.

“Stupid fucking slut, think you know better than everyone,” smack, “going around fucking whoever you please,” smack, “disgusting little whore who needs to be taught a lesson about respect,” smack, smack, smack. “Colour?”

“Green,” you moaned. A particularly harsh spank came down on your ass and you whimpered. “Green, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Maybe the slut does know a thing or two about respect,” he hummed, admiring how red and inflamed your ass was, a clear handprint on your supple flesh. “Too bad about that ruined pussy though, it's probably stretched beyond repair, gonna have to use you ass instead if I wanna feel anything”

“Why, you got a tiny cock?” You smirked. SMACK. You let out a strange combination of a pained whine and a moan at the particularly hard hit.

“Why don't you see for yourself, brat,” he grabbed you by your hair and forced you to your knees, your hands on his thighs for support and your ass cheeks throbbing as you looked up at him with half lidded eyes. He unzipped his shorts and pulled them down along with his briefs, his heavy cock springing out and smacking your face deliberately. You let out an audible gasp, you didn't think it was possible to find a man bigger than Heat but jesus fucking christ, this man was a fucking monster. He smirked proudly at the clear surprise on your face.

“I- I don't know if I can take that,’ you stuttered.

“You can, and you will,” he assured you, that same bored expression back as he wiped the head of his cock against your mouth, “now open up, slut, I wanna hear you fucking choke on it”

He was at least polite in the way he let you adjust to his size instead of shoving it all straight in, controlling your head with a hand in your hair while his other hand jerked off what you couldn't reach. You couldn't possibly reach the base, gagging as his tip hit the back of your throat, nowhere near taking his full length. As soon as your throat relaxed and the gagging calmed, breathing out your nose to settle yourself, he pulled your hair tight to hold you still and started fucking your mouth. His other hand wrapped around your neck, pressing just hard enough to feel the way it buldged as he throat fucked you. He made quiet grunts as he thrusted, your eyes watering from the gag but you were determined to not show weakness.

“Maybe that slut throat is good for something after all,” he grunted, “first I'm gonna making you gag on my cum, then I'm gonna pound that pretty little ass of yours”

You moaned around his cock, one hand running down between your legs to touch yourself, while the other held his thigh for support.

“Good cocksleeve,” he groaned, “gonna fill you up in a second, gonna feed you so good. Take my load you stupid slut”

He stilled with his cock deep down your throat, gagging and choking around him while he hit the back of your head with a flat palm to force you deeper, your nose buried in his dark pubes as rope after rope of hot cum poured directly down your throat. He let you go finally and you took a heavy breath, his thumb forcing your mouth open so he could make sure you swallowed, admiring the wet streaks from strained tears on your cheeks, before slapping your face with a pleased hum.

“Look at you, finally good for something,” he smirked, “go get on the blanket with your ass in the air, I'm not done with you yet”

You struggled to stand for a moment, Wire helping you to your feet as you wobbled. “Colour?” He asked with a little concern.

“Green, sir,” you smiled coyly, making your way to the blanket and looking back at him as you bent over and used your hands to spread your ass cheeks, an invitation, or perhaps a challenge. He made a growl as he knelt down behind you, running his hand through your folds and earning a needy whine.

“Fuck, so fucking wet,” he rubbed your soaking clit before putting a finger inside you, followed quickly by a second. “You really loved choking on my cock huh?” His thumb toyed with your asshole as he fingered your pussy, adding a third finger in your eager cunt and suddenly starting a brutal pace without warning, his thumb sinking inside your ass while you were distracted. You let out shrill whines as he finger fucked you, switching his thumb to his index finger as you loosened enough to fully take it to the base. He spat on your ass and let the fluid drip to your hole, lubricating it as he added a second. All of a sudden you clamped down around him, screaming and clawing at the blanket, squirting hard with a splash and soaking the blanket underneath you. He didn't let up for a second, scooping some of the slick release from your folds and pushing it into your asshole, forcing in a third finger.

You whined at the stretch, but he worked patiently at loosening you enough to take him, spitting again every now and then to lubricate, his other hand alternating between finger fucking and rubbing your clit as a distraction till he managed a forth finger in. He wouldn't fuck you till he could get that forth to the knuckle, he was a rough dominant but he wouldn't hurt you needlessly. Your second orgasm came with a little more warning, Wire cooing praises about how well you were doing as you shook and creamed on his fingers, the afterglow finally allowing you to relax enough to where he was sure you could take him.

“There's a good girl,” he cooed, withdrawing his digits from both holes, making you whine as he left you empty. “Hush now, I'm gonna fill you right back up. You clean girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, “got- got checked last week,” you panted, “sir,” you quickly tacked on to the end.

“Good girl,” he praised, making you preen as the head of his thick cock pressed against your ass, “colour?”

“Green, sir,” you whined, “fuck me Wire, please”

His cock slid inside you slowly, still a stretch despite his preparations, and he groaned lowly as you took him inch by inch. He didn't force himself all the way in, but he was deep enough that it felt good for both of you, spitting again almost for good luck as he started to pump in and out of you.

“Good girl, I won't take long,” he promised, “you're so tight and hot, I'm gonna fill you real soon”

“Please,” you moaned, too fucked out to think of anything else but the pull of his cock in your ass, and how utterly dirty it felt to be letting a stranger do this out in the open air. Whenever you had the strength to open your eyes, you could see the campsite below, the red ute now returned, you wondered if the others could see you getting plowed from down there, or hear your deep moans. Wire held your hips tight, fucking you at a languid pace, wary of hurting you if he lost himself and went too hard. He only increased his pace bit by bit as you relaxed, watching how your hands went from clutching at the blankets to more relaxed, your head pressed to the side as you panted and moaned underneath him.

“Good girl, doing so good,” he grunted, and he could feel you contract around him at his praises, “you gonna cum from this? Fuck, such a good girl”

You whined as he increased his speed a little, your thighs shaking as his movement forced a weak orgasm from you, too worn to do any more, your legs barely able to keep you upright any longer, entirely relying on his firm hold on your hips. Your eyes were closed, your forehead dripping with sweat, your mouth stuck in a goofy looking smile.

“Just one more second, you're doing so good,” Wire groaned, speeding up one final time as his movements became erratic and desperate, his cock throbbing inside your tight ass, “oh fuck, fuckkk, there it is, take my cum sweetheart”

He let out a long groan and stilled as his seed pooled inside you, making sure you took every drop before he pulled away to admire your gaping asshole. “Push it out for me baby,” he purred, his hands holding your cheeks apart. You willed the muscles in your ass to move with the very last of your strength, feeling his cum dripping down your pussy before finally collapsing against the blanket.

“Good girl [y/n],” he cooed, rubbing your back in soothing circles, “you did so good. Just rest now”

He let you catch your breath before offering you his water, helping you sit up. He held you up till you were able to support yourself, then he gathered your discarded shorts and helped you slip them back on. Scooping you up bridal style he moved you to rest against a tree, forcing an opened muesli bar into your hand, shaking the dirt from your blanket and putting your things neatly in your bag while you ate. When everything was put away and you were done eating, he knelt down in front of you, his back to you.

“Climb on, I'll carry you down,” he offered.

“You don't gotta do that,” you yawned.

“Come on, you're exhausted,” he replied, “I was pretty rough on you”

You finally relented and clamboured onto his back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held your thighs and stood. God he was so fucking tall, what was this, a fucking fairground ride? It was a good thing you weren't afraid of heights. He dipped to loop the straps of your backpack over his arm before starting back down the trail, and you yawned sleepily as your head rested against his broad back and his soft hoodie.

“Have a nap, I've got you,” he suggested. All he got was a bleary mmm in reply before you were out for the count, the quiet rhythmic bouncing of his steps acting like a gentle rocking and putting you right to sleep in your post sex haze.

[NEXT PART]

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Fight Club

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (AFAB)Reader (with platonic Frank Castle x Reader)

Summary: @hellskitchenswhore is killing it with the prompts lately. Per her request: Matt's freaking out thinking you might be cheating on him because for the last few weeks, you’ve been coming home smelling like Frank. What he doesn’t know is that you asked Frank to teach you how to fight and didn’t tell Matt.

Warnings: 18+/SMUT. No use of Y/N. Female/AFAB reader (use of terms like girlfriend and female anatomy.) Established relationship. Brief mention of an active shooter at an office, Frank and Matt using pet names like sweetheart, mentions and accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, Unprotected sex, Fingering, P in V, Creampie, and Possessiveness from our dear Matt. Sort of getting caught after the fact.

Notes: I started taking kickboxing like three weeks ago, so I like to pretend that qualifies me to know what I'm talking about (It doesn't lol). So apologizes if I got any of the terminology wrong. UPDATE DEC 2023: I wrote an alternate ending to this fic that ends in a threeway with Frank that you can read here

WC: 5,000

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“That’s it sweetheart, last round I promise.” Frank encourages you as you take swings at the bag in front of you. 

You’ve been at this for at least an hour and your arms feel like jello. You can’t remember the last time you were breathing this hard that wasn’t from Matt bending you in half. Jumping directly into the Hudson would have kept you drier than the amount of sweat currently pouring down your face and exhausted body.

“Atta girl, atta girl!” Frank praises as you take your last few swings, arms too weak to make any real movement of the bag

“Alright, you’re getting the hang of it now. Few more sessions and you’ll be out there with Red every night.”

“Pfft I don’t know about that, Frank. I’m just trying to make sure I can protect myself is all.”

“So remind me again why you didn’t ask him to teach you this?”

It started last week. One of your favorite coworkers was going through a bitter divorce and her estranged husband decided to confront her at the office and pulled a gun. You heard two shots ring out from your desk and feared the worst - all the active shooter situations you'd seen on TV were happening live in your life. Fortunately, as you fled for safety, Jerry from accounting was able to disarm and tackle the guy before he could hurt anyone thanks to his black belt in Jiujitsu.

Even though the incident ended okay, it had spooked you enough to get yourself some defense classes, for all those times when your vigilante boyfriend was too far uptown to protect you at a moment’s notice and Jerry wasn’t around to save the day.

Matt was always overprotective of you and you hated to think how he’d react to the incident, so you hadn’t told him. When the story hit the news, you lied (via text so he couldn’t detect it) and said it happened on a different floor and you didn’t even notice. 

You also didn’t tell him about your decision to learn self-defense. Matt was more than qualified to teach you, but for some reason, you just didn’t feel comfortable asking for his help with this. Maybe it was his propensity to throw himself into helping those he cared about, you especially, that gave you hesitation to give him another thing to prioritize over himself. Maybe it was just how good he was at fighting that made you not want to “be a beginner” in front of him (not that Matt would ever judge you about anything.)

In fairness to you, you hadn’t intended to learn it from his frenemy and former client, but you’d showed up at the boxing gym near your work and the gruff men inside intimidated you so much, you bolted out the door before signing up for a class, tears welling in your eyes when you quite literally bumped into Frank on the street.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, nodding towards the door of the boxing gym

“I thought… Look I want to learn how to fight. Or at least how to defend myself. This place is close to work but um… might not be the right fit for me.”

“Why don’t you just ask Red?”

“It’s a long story,” you replied with a sigh “but I really don’t want to ask him. Or for him to even know about it. So can you please not mention you saw me here or we had this conversation?”

“Okay, can I ask why not?”

“You can but I’m not gonna answer.” 

Frank chuckled and shook his head

“Well if you want to learn to fight, this isn’t the best place. I know Vinny the owner and he’s a shit teacher. But if you want to learn for real, I’m happy to teach you.”

“What? Wait really? Wait, Frank you know how to fight?”

“Sweetheart, I was a Marine for over 15 years, ‘course I know how to fight.”

“And you’d do that for me?”

“Course. You’re Red's girl. What times’ he leave for his little night job?”

“9:00”

“Great, meet me here at 9:30. Tonight.”

And that was how you ended up here, collapsing on the gym mat beneath you with a groan.

“Not bad for your first time. We just gotta get you in the habit of resetting your hands after every hit, and you’ll be golden” Frank praises again

“Oh yeah, I forgot, always protect the face so I don’t end up lookin like you.” you jest

“Ouch” he feigns hurt with a smirk on his face “Red teach you to swing low like that?”

“Nah Castle, that’s all me. It’s part of why he loves me. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you then.”

By the time Matt returns home, you’re showered and in bed, sore muscles pulsing every time you twist and turn in your sleep. Between the smell of sweaty clothes in the hamper and the scent of your freshly washed skin rubbing against silk sheets, plus the heat radiating off your sore muscles as he crawls into bed silently beside you, Matt figures it out pretty quickly.

‘She started going back to the gym. Hmm. Have to ask her about that in the morning.’ he thinks as he drifts off beside you.

You awake in the morning to gentle hands rubbing at your back. 

“Mmm morning Matty” you mumble, still pulling yourself out of sleep

“Morning sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works a little lower down your spine

“Giving you a massage. I can tell you’re sore. When did you start going back to the gym?”

“Just yesterday. And you’re right I’m super sore. Thank you, this is a nice way to start my day.”

“Of course sweetheart. What gym did you go to? Did you have fun?” he inquires

His innocent prodding has you waking fully quickly, trying to cover your tracks without outright lying and getting caught.

“Oh this gym near work. Couple people in the office recommended it. And yeah I had fun.” 

All truths.

“That’s nice. Mmmm do you want to start the coffee or shower first?” he asks, seemingly letting the subject go

Perfect.

As you rush around to get ready for work, Matt grabs the laundry hamper from the bathroom, walking it over to the washing machine. Your dirty workout clothes from the night before sit on top, now less potent that they have completely dried. But he can’t help but feel like something smells off.

Sure it smells like you - natural scent mixed with your fading sweat, but there’s something else. Something familiar. A very subtle hint of spiciness mixed with… is that gunpowder? 

‘Weird’ Matt thinks to himself, but brushes it off a moment later, the smell not strong enough to really garner more than a passing thought.

But three times he does the laundry in a row, he smells it. It’s so subtle, he might not even give it another thought, but it’s just so damn familiar. 

It takes another week for him to ask you about it.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been going to the gym a lot lately,” he mentions over dinner 

“Mmmhmm. Yeah, can you feel my muscles growing? I’m feeling stronger.” you reply

“Yeah. What exactly are you doing at the gym? It’s really working.”

“Oh a little cardio, a little strength, you know…” you skirt around, being intentionally vague

“That’s good. Is it like a class or?”

“Um sort of. Just this guy at the gym, he’s been helping me. You know, walking me through the exercises.” 

Also technically the truth.

“That’s good. Well, I’m glad you found something you like.”

‘Okay, so that guy must smell like this. She’s close enough to him in a warm sweaty gym, so there’s a little bit on her clothes. Makes sense.’ Matt thinks to himself. But he still can’t shake the feeling that that smell is so familiar.

Two weeks later, Matt is out on patrol when he hears a familiar heartbeat on the fire escape a few floors down from where he’s perched.

Frank.

“You just gonna sit there all night, listinin’ Red?” Frank asks

“Very funny Frank.” Matt says, hopping down to Frank’s level

“Haven’t seen you in a while” Matt comments

“Been busy. Madani’s been usin’ me more.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going legit Frank.”

“Not a shot in hell, Red. But gotta pay the bills somehow.”

And then a strong breeze blows. Frank’s signature blend of sweat, aftershave, and metallic mixed with gunpowder from all the weapons he handles overwhelms Matt’s nose. Matt cocks his head in confusion. It’s so damn familiar. But of course it is, it’s Frank. How many times has Matt been on a rooftop with him like this, bs-ing the night away while monitoring the city?

After catching up for a bit, they go their separate ways, the rest of Matt’s evening turning uneventful.

He returns home to you shortly after 3 am, your soft breathing as you sleep calms him as he strips off his suit. 

You hadn’t met with Frank tonight. He said something about following a lead and you were perfectly fine with that, you needed an off day. 

Matt curls up in bed beside you, resting his head on your back and falling asleep quickly.

The next night, Frank is really putting you through your paces and you swear you’re ready to collapse when he finally calls it for the night. 

Per usual, Frank offers to walk you home when you’re done and for the first time since you started coming here, you accept the offer since you stayed a bit later than usual tonight. At least until you can make it to Hell’s Kitchen and within range of Matt. 

You and Frank make small talk as you go and eventually, the chill of the autumn air has you shivering in your still-damp-from-sweat workout clothes. 

“Here sweetheart,” Frank says with a lopsided smirk, slinging his worn jacket over your shoulders. 

“Thank you Castle. Always a gentleman.”

“Course, ‘specially for Red’s girl.”

You make it to 35th and 10th, close enough to home and hand his jacket back to him, parting ways with a nod and a polite “goodnight.”

The later hour coupled with the particularly intense session has you collapsing into bed without even removing your shoes, let alone your gym clothes.

When Matt returns a few hours later, the smell hits him like a truck. 

‘I swear to god Frank, if you’re bleeding on my couch again…’ Matt thinks to himself. 

But when he enters the apartment the only heartbeat he can hear is yours. He inches slowly toward the bedroom and rolls the door open gently. He reaches down to feel the soft lycra of your leggings on your body, careful not to stir you from your slumber. The smell of your sweat clinging to your clothes fills his senses, way more potent than normal plus that other scent you’re bringing home from the gym. Matt pauses to wonder why he thought Frank was here but then it hits him. 

Oh my god. The mystery smell from the gym you’ve been bringing home is Frank. 

But how could you smell like… 

And then the gears in his head start turning. And he feels like a goddamn idiot. 

You had been going to the gym. But not to work out. You were cheating. With Frank of all people. And you’d made the critical error of not showering when you got home. 

Matt begins to pace the apartment, rubbing at his chin as his thoughts move a million miles a minute about what to do. 

Did he confront you? Did he confront Frank?! What should he even say?

The sun rises and he’s still pacing and contemplating when his alarm rings out. He shuts it off before it can wake you too. He needs more time to think about his next move. He gets ready for work quietly and slips out the door before you awake. 

You find it odd you haven’t heard from Matt all day. When you woke up you saw his Devil suit in a heap in the living room and there was no damage to it or blood on it. So you knew he had come home and was relatively okay. But it was so odd for him to leave without a goodbye kiss or go this long in the day without so much as a text. But he had been busy with a heavy caseload lately. You finally break shortly after lunch and text him first. 

“Hey Matty. Know you’re busy but I miss you and I love you. Dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Working late. Don’t wait up.” He responds

That was… oddly curt. But again you figure he’s stressed and busy. 

Matt on the other hand has been wracked with stress all day. It only took an hour of his constant pacing and fidgeting for Foggy to break and finally ask.

“Matt. What’s up?”

“I think… I think I’m being cheated on.” Matt confesses. He leaves the Frank part out of the equation, wanting Foggy to be as objective as possible about his response. 

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“She’s been going to the gym like every night for a month now right when I leave for patrol and she came home last night smelling like… another man. And she’s been smelling like it a little the whole month but last night it was all over her”

“So did you ask her?”

“Well no but…” 

“Matt you are literally a human lie detector and yet here you are jumping to conclusions instead of doing the rational thing and just asking her.”

And maybe Matt would have taken Foggy’s advice if he thought you were just cheating with your gym trainer. But this was Frank. And that made it all the more complicated. 

Matt decides finally what he’s going to do. He’s going to follow you tonight, catch you in the act and confront both of you together.  

Matt still hadn’t come home when you depart for your nightly workout session, but little did you know he’s there. Pacing on the roof, waiting for you to leave. As soon as he hears the lobby door shut behind you, he springs in to action, taking the stairs two at a time into the apartment and changing out of his lawyer suit and into his devil suit as quickly as possible, making sure not to lose your heartbeat now a block and a half away. He makes up for the lost distance quickly and is practically on top of you by the time you enter the gym. 

“Hey Frank” you call out as you enter

“Hey. I’ll be over in a second.” he replies from the locker rooms

Matt crouches down by the side of the building, just close enough to the windows to hear everything going on inside. 

You’re almost done wrapping your hands when Frank emerges from the locker room. 

“Alright let’s start with our usual, then you can have a go at me again.”

“I don’t know Frank. You really wore me out last night. I woke up still in my clothes and shoes.”

Matt knew it. He fucking knew it. 

“Tough shit sweetheart,” Frank responds with a chuckle. “And what did your boyfriend think about that huh? He got any idea what we’re doing here yet?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear from him at all today. Which is weird even for him. And no I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually”

“No, I don’t”

“So what you’re just gonna keep sneakin’ around, becoming a prize fighter without him gettin’ suspicious? Shit even a regular guy would raise some alarm bells by now, but especially Red and all his … shit”

“Frank, I am not here trying to become a prize fighter. I’m just trying to get strong enough to defend myself if he’s not around to do it. That’s all”

Matt’s heart drops. 

How could he possibly think you were cheating? And with Frank of all people. He felt like an idiot. Like a total asshole. Sure you had lied, well, technically withheld the truth and he’s sure you’ll explain why. And he’s hurt if you wanted to learn to fight that you didn’t come to him.  But this was not nearly as egregious a stain on your relationship as he thought it was. 

“I don’t know. Think you should tell him. Show him your moves. Shit, you’ve gotten a couple good hits on me these last few days I’m sure you could give Red a run for his money.” 

“I am not fighting Matt, Francis.” You say with an eye roll

Matt listens for the next hour as Frank talks you through a few hitting drills, then the two of you sparring. Frank is clearly taking it easy on you, but Matt is still impressed by what he could tell of what you were doing. He absolutely would need to take you on to really gauge your skills. 

Franks's phone rings out just as you’re cooling down with some stretches. 

He answers and speaks for a few minutes. 

“Alright sorry to jet out of here but Madani has somethin urgent for me. You good to get home alright?”

“Yeah, thanks Frank. See you tomorrow.”

Frank gives you a fist bump and then disappears through the front door. Matt uses the opportunity to sneak in just before the door slams closed behind Frank. 

You’re sitting on the floor undoing your wraps as he finally speaks up. 

“If you wanted to opportunity to hit Frank, I’m sure I could have arranged it some other way”

Your spine goes icy cold at the sound of the voice behind you. 

“Matt… I” you stumble to explain. 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Matt says, hands up in surrender before reaching up to remove his mask

“What are you doing here?” You ask, ready for him to chew you out for your little secret. 

“Alright if I’m honest, do you promise you’ll be honest?” He asks

“Yes.”

“I followed you here because I thought you were cheating. With Frank. And I know now that’s not what’s happening. And I’m sorry for not just asking you.” He confesses with a sigh

“Oh Matt. I’m so sorry that I did anything to make you think that. That’s not at all what’s happening here.”

“I know. Been listening all night so I know. But I have to know why. Why are you doing this and why didn’t you tell me? And Frank? Really?”

“It’s a long story. Can I tell you while we walk home?”

And so you do. By the time you make it home to your apartment, you’ve come clean about the incident at work and running into Frank and how he’d been coaching you the last few weeks, and why you were so hesitant to ask Matt to be the one to do it.

Matt is oddly quiet through your explanation but nods as you speak. He finally speaks up just as you’re unlocking the front door. 

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t ask me. But now that I know, I am curious…”

“You want to see how much I’ve learned?”

He nods enthusiastically 

“Fine. I guess since now you know you can join us tomorrow. If you want.”

“Perfect, I’ll be there”

He tucks you in to bed with a gentle kiss before heading out on patrol again, no longer clouded by doubts about your relationship. 

—

When you arrive at the gym the next night, Matt is already there, looking extra adorable in his gray sweatpants and messy hair. 

It’s all so familiar to him - the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the smell of sweat and heat, the gym mat sticking beneath his bare feet with every step. Just like Fogwells when he was a kid. He feels at home here.

“Hey sweetheart” he greets you with a kiss

“Hey Matty” you can’t help but smile whenever you see him after a long day “Frank texted me, he’s running late, but um do you want to help me warm up?”

Matt’s face lights up with excitement. “Yes. Okay. What does Frank normally have you do?”

“Two rounds of jab crosses on the bag. Three minutes each.”

“Okay, have at it”

You wrap your hands and begin hitting the bag. Not even thirty seconds in, Matt speaks up.

“Woah woah woah. Frank has been letting you hit like this and not correcting your form?”

“Yes. Wait, what the hell is wrong with my form?”

“You’re too far away from the bag. I can hear your shoulder joint rubbing every time you jab, which means you’re over-extending that left arm. Makes you put way too much energy into each hit, you’re gonna wear yourself out way faster. Here. Step closer.”

Matt moves behind you to help you correct your position, then lets you take a few more punches.

“See? More power, less effort.”

“Yeah. Any other pointers?”

Matt places his hands on your shoulders and places his feet right beside yours, pressing his body tight against your back. You never thought of boxing as particularly erotic, especially not with Frank teaching you. But with Matt’s breath against your ear, you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine straight to your core.

“Go ahead, gimme a few more, I want to feel how your body moves. See just what else Frank has been teaching you wrong.”

“Matt…” the words die on your lips. You want to speak up and defend how kind Frank has been these past few weeks to spend the time to teach you, but Matt’s sweet whisper of encouragement has you forgetting anything else but him.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t get all shy on me. You hesitate like this for Frank?”

“N..no.” you stutter, then weakly throw out a few more punches

Matt chuckles, knowing just how much he’s winding you up with so little. 

“Put a little more power behind them. Don’t let me being here hold you back.”

You try to do as he says and throw some real hits, but Matt is still pressed right against you.

God, his body is warm usually, but being flush behind you as you move and hit, he practically feels like white-hot iron against you. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and it’s not just from the few minutes of warming up you’ve done. You know Matt can hear it and is going to play you like a fiddle. His own wicked form of punishment for not telling him about your training.

His hands drop from your shoulders, running down your back lightly and coming to rest on your hips. He plants a soft kiss right under your ear.

“You’ve been working hard. Maybe Frank does know what he’s doing.”

He places a second kiss a little lower down your neck.

“You throw any actual punches at him yet?” he asks

“A few. Landed some of them too.”

A third, fourth, and fifth kiss down your neck, working his way toward your shoulder. His stubble is coarse against your skin, sending goosebumps across your flesh, your toes curling into the squishy mat beneath you.

“Mmm that’s my girl.” he says, as he begins sucking on your neck, his right hand snaking around to your front, tickling at the top of your leggings.

“Matty” you chastise

“What?” he feigns ignorance

“Matthew. Do not start something you can’t finish. Frank will be here any minute.”

“You said he’d be late.”

“His text said ‘a few minutes’ and that was already several minutes ago.”

“Well I can’t hear his heartbeat yet, so we’ve got at least five.”

You want to protest more, you really do, but you just can’t resist Matt. 

Laughing low, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his steady breath against your exposed skin a stark contrast to the growing labor of your exhales. You spread your legs a little wider. He takes the invitation and reaches his hand fully into your leggings, using a finger to circle your sensitive bud.

You throw your head back onto his chest with a moan, his name falling from your lips in a breathy whisper.

He continues to suck on your neck as works at your core, finally sliding a finger inside you, then another.

You reach forward to grab the boxing bag for stability, Matt’s touch causing you to writhe enough that you’re not sure you’re able to stay standing without it. As you thrash against him, he inhales deeply, a mix of your natural scent and your arousal consuming his lungs. 

In order to get you exactly where he wants you, he keeps a quick pace, knowing he does not have a lot of time. His rhythm never falters, stroking you over and over in that perfect spongy spot inside you. It’s not long before you're coming apart with a cry of his name.

Just as your head stops spinning and you’re returning to earth, Matt is turning you around and connecting his lips with yours. So hungry to have you, he guides you back a few steps, never breaking his lips from yours, and pushes you against the wall behind you.

His kisses grow more and more desperate, sending an electric tingle down your spine, though that could also be because the wall behind you is made of mirrors and the glass is cool against the heated skin not protected by your sports bra.

As soon as you make contact with the wall, his hands are back on your hips, pushing your leggings and panties down in a heap on the sticky mat beneath you. His clothes soon follow.

You throw your leg up and around his hip, opening yourself to him. An offer he quickly accepts. A soft gasp simultaneously escapes both your lips, the relief between the two of you as he guides himself slowly into your wet and eager core until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Restless fingers reach down to wrap your other leg around him, now fully holding you in the air against the mirrored wall behind you. 

He repeats the pace of his fingers only moments ago and slams into you harshly and quickly, over and over again, desperate to feel you release around him again, knowing Frank could appear at any moment. 

God, your familiar warm heat is absolute perfection, he thinks as he continues to bury himself into you over and over again. You’re still incredibly worked up from your previous climax and it takes just a few thrusts for you to be close again. The way your body is clamping around him and tensing lets him know just how close to ecstasy you are again.

Matt leans forward and you can feel his quickening breath against your ear once more.

“Damnit sweetheart, you scared me so bad. Made me think I was sharing you with someone else.” he grunts as he continues to drive his hips against yours.

“No Matty. I’m yours. Only yours — oh God. I promise.” you whimper back, arching into him further.

“Good. But to make sure you don’t forget, I’m gonna cum inside you, right now and every single night before you leave. So I’m dripping out of you after every hit, every kick. No matter how much Frank trains you. So you remember exactly who. You. Belong to.” he growls lowly against your skin, pushing you even more firmly against the cool glass with every thrust.

“Yes. Please Matt — Fuck. I’m all yours. I promise. Please.”

He thrusts one more time before he cums with a rumble of your name, his arms tightening around you, holding you impossibly close as he releases inside you just as he promised.

As he grinds against you in just the right way to hit that perfect spot one more time, your own orgasm sweeps over you. Your nails dig into his back, holding on to him as you let go, his harsh thrusts now slowed just enough so he can keep the both of you upright.

He feels you release, causing a final low groan from him, slowing down his pace, as your molten pleasure fades away. Still consumed by him and the feel of him holding you close, you lean your head back to rest against the mirror behind you as you catch your breath. Just as you feel like fully slumping against him, he sets you down gently.

You don't even really register him pulling away from you until he speaks. 

“Might want to put your pants back on. Frank’s a block away and I don’t think you want him to know how I warmed you up before he got here.”

You open your eyes and see that Matt is already dressed, a smirk painted across his face as he listens to you scramble to put your clothes on.

Just as you’re adjusting your leggings back in to place, Frank and his large frame enter the gym.

“Hey –” he pauses at the sight of you and Matt in front of him, both sweaty and still panting a little.

“Hmmm. Guess Red knows now.” Frank grumbles

But then his eyes go wide.

“You wanna tell me what that’s about?” he asks with a point of his finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you turn behind you to see what he’s asking about. The mirror is covered in smudges that look vaguely like the outline shape of your body.

“We don’t talk about what happens at fight club…” Matt jokes as you bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.

My Masterlist

[the-s1lly-corner]

Ballora!Reader x the cast

Reader is like Ballora and they are a very caring figure who is very quiet and their walk dancing just like ballora, They dont talk too much but they care about everyone very much, Usually obliterating anything that tries to hurt them in a very brutal way even tho theres no blood there

Reader also crawls on the walls doing contortionism (bridge pose) and sometimes does this to explore the place, even scaring the cast, but the reader has a voice as beautiful as Ballora's, generally using it to help the others calm down or even try to make them sleep or something like that

TADC cast x Ballora type! Reader

Lmao hi I literally just woke up its like, 8am rn as I type this 😭😭

Typing this early since I'm making cinnamon rolls today! Gotta wake up for other people to wake up since I dont wanna. Accidentally wake anyone up

Written on mobile btw !! So things may be shorter / more typo prone !!

Only did the main 4 today my apologies, I couldn't really come up with any ideas for kinger zooble n gangle <\3

CAINE:

Loves watching you perform and practice your ballet!

I think he would have literal heart eyes whenever you talk to him, he just loves your voice so much!

Floats next to you as you crawl on this walls and do your contortions; strikes up a conversation with you while you're literally defying gravity

POMNI:

Oh..! Ballet! She doesnt know much about it, but that wont stop her from appreciating your skills!

Probably looks at you in a different light after you absolutely demolish and/or snap during an IHA

That's not necessarily a bad thing, by the way... simply gets the point across that you're... capable in case of a dangerous situation...

Has probably gotten jumpscared after seeing you crawl on the walls

JAX:

Tries to convince you to join the dark side and use your wall crawling ability to scare people... same with your contortions... if you want to like, actually consistently and intentionally scare folks then jax is you're go to person to help lure people into whatever area youre in

I don't see him as someone who would be into ballet, but I do think he would have some level of respect for the effort and stuff that goes into it

Not much to be said since I believe I've done a jax x ballerina reader a few days ago !

Stares at the small pile of mush that used to be a gloink before you came in.. for once he feels.. uneasy

RAGATHA:

Similar to pomni in terms of the wall crawling stuff she has been spooked by it a few times before growing used to it

LOVES watching you dance, literally you're number one fan, always watches you everytime you dance

Silliness be damned! This doll loves her pretty but slightly off putting partner!!

[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.