#it took like. a month for her to go from spider to human and it took even longer for her to go back to human to spider | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neteyamssock · 6 months ago

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⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙻𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂

⊹₊⟡⋆ pairing: lo'ak x fem!human!reader (implied) (but told in the eyes of reader and neteyam.)

⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: neteyam watches you longing for Lo'ak as you sing Reflections (by The Neighborhood). possible neteyam x fem!human!reader in the future (if the plot is expanded.

⊹₊⟡⋆ content warning: none ig? aside from neytiri and neyetam's avoidance with human interaction.

⊹₊⟡⋆ a/n: unedited. wrote it cuz its bugging my mind but didn't pay attention much on the plot. might expand the story in the future once the semester finishes cuz 3rd year of college sucks ass.

⊹₊⟡⋆ text divider credits to @/echanthings

now playing...Reflections by The Neighborhood.

MASTERLIST

“Hush, little Tuk. Don’t cry anymore, okay? Is that tawtute really worth all these precious tears?”

Holding back a scowl, Neteyam truly cannot understand why Tuk is bawling her eyes out when their mother forbids them from visiting the human outpost for at least a month. As he wiped his youngest sister’s fat tears, he couldn't help but to wonder what kind of technique you used to hook Tuk and gain her affections.

He had only seen you once, when you were eight and he was ten, when Spider took them to the outpost to introduce you to them. You are the opposite of Spider, who’s loud and out-going. You are rather timid and quiet, simply observing him and his siblings.

He remembered disliking you the moment he saw you, because unlike Spider, you seem uninterested in going outside and exploring the world outside those puny human laboratories. You cannot see. You will not see. That's what he thought when he gazed at you with his scrutinizing eyes.

After that encounter, he stopped going with his siblings every time they visited you, deeming it irrelevant. He relied on mere stories of you from his siblings’ mouth to construct you inside his mind.

According to Kiri, Tuk loves you most among the tawtute in the lab. Oddly enough, you didn't grow up as reserved as he thought you would be. Lo’ak would often say you are cheerful and optimistic, that you can see the world gifted by Eywa, and that you have a talent in singing like your tawtute mother.

His younger brother grew closer to you over the years, and it successfully provoked Neytiri’s ire when Lo’ak weaved you a beaded bracelet—leading to your siblings being forbidden to visit the outpost for a month.

Neteyam personally does not believe that you have learned to see. You must've done something to his siblings, for them to get attached to you like this. You and your kind simply cannot see, for your cup is already full. Selfish, greedy, and destru—

“I wanna go! ________ is having a concert today!”

Neteyam quickly restrained his sister when she tried shaking his hold off. Her tears still haven't stopped yet, streaming down her cheeks like a waterfall. Seeing her like this, Neteyam’s heart softened.

“What is a concert? Why does it make you want to go so badly even against our mother's wishes?”

Tuktirey blinked a few times, before flashing Neteyam a beaming smile. She knew she had to take this to her advantage. As long as she can convince Neteyam to go with everyone, they're safe from their mother’s scolding. Although unfair, Tuk just really wants to be there in your makeshift concert, something you have been telling them about since a year ago.

“It is like a communal feast, brother. Where people sing and dance. ______ can sing and dance, and today’s her concert! We want to watch her sing, because it sounds so interesting!”

Neteyam scowled, disapproving. “If you want to listen to singing, you can just listen to Seyla, who’s the best singer in the clan—”

Stomping her feet on the ground, Tuk began to cry again. “No! It’s different! ______’s songs are different from na’vi songs!”

As Tuktirey continued to cry, Kiri walked out of their kelku with a sigh. She also heard Tuk’s tantrums and felt pity for his confused and helpless brother.

She took Tuktirey into her arms and shushed their youngest sister with a helpless smile. “We can just ask ______ to do her concert again next month, Tuk. If you force us to go, mom will punish us even more severely. She might even forbid us to go there permanently. Do you want that? Hmm?”

Tuk sobbed for a while before she quieted down. Although she stopped crying, she’s still nuzzling her face in Kiri’s neck, sad and confused. “...Okay. B-But you must ask ______ to perform again next month, when we can watch, alright?!”

Relieved that Tuk finally stopped throwing a fit, Kiri nodded. “Fine, I’ll ask her. She’s definitely performing for you next month.”

“Yey!” With a smile, Tuk took off and began playing with the other children of the clan, eyes still swollen but now there's a smile on her face.

Neteyam watched his sisters with complicated eyes, completely perplexed on how someone non-existent in his life—you— could influence the people around him to the point that Neteyam feels that they are somehow unrecognizable.

He barely knew anything about you and who you are, but you managed to make Tuk love you so much, you even made Neytiri fuming mad indirectly because Lo’ak cares for you deeply.

“I know that look,” Kiri started as she played with her sheathed blade by making it spin with her fingers. “_______ is an excellent singer. She said her mother was a superstar, with almost all tawtute as her supporters. Just like dad when he was Toruk Makto.”

The sheathed blade stopped spinning so Kiri began to spin them again and again. “_____ wanted to have a concert—where she sings and dances in front of the audience—to show us how they do it on their planet.”

Neteyam does not understand half of the words Kiri just said, but at least he still got the gist of it. Your mother is an excellent singer, like Seyla’s mother—Ninat. And somehow, you want to sing and dance in front of his siblings… to make them happy?

“How can it be so different aside from the song being tawtute songs?” Scowling, he began to eat the fruit Kiri handed him from who knows where.

Kiri just laughed, “Tawtute songs tend to be… on the cheerful side, I guess? At least from what I heard her sing. It makes Tuk dance.”

“So does our music.” He pointed out, voice grave. Kir rolled her eyes and shrugged, already tired trying to make her older brother understand.

“Honestly, it's hard to explain. All tawtute stuff is hard to understand. You might as well go and watch her so you’ll get an idea.” She said it in a joking tone before going back inside their kelku, not knowing that Neteyam took her words seriously.

Neteyam walked silently towards the outpost, careful not to alert anyone of his presence. The moment the human settlement came to his vision, he couldn't help but to feel a sense of discomfort seeing the humans in his world. Although they are considered allies, the humans who fought against their own race to side with the na’vi, the sense of distrust is still there.

Neteyam is just like his mother. He can tolerate these humans, but he will never like them. Coldly observing them as they busy themselves with their studies, something quickly caught Neteyam’s attention.

It was you walking outside of the lab, wearing your exopack as you opened one of the doors in the tall gigantic fence. You’re tiny, Neteyam is sure Tuk is a lot taller than you. Your skin is a lot darker than the other humans in the lab, your hair long and darker than the others. In your small white tank top and cargo pants, you ventured into the forest but still in the safe zone where no predators could attack you.

On your hand was an instrument called a guitar. Tuk once took it home for Kiri to play for your parents. Jake wanted to keep it, but Neytiri told him it's yours, and it would be shameful not to return it after using it. Neteyam remembers not caring about it and comparing it to the local na’vi instruments, which made Kiri upset.

Neteyam was getting impatient watching you walk slowly into the forest, admiring the nature around you that he thought for a second that Kiri was right, that you could see. But he forcefully shoved that thought away from his mind as he watched you settle down on a small clearing, sitting as you began fiddling with your music instrument.

You looked excited, with a beaming smile that is extremely blinding. For a moment, Neteyam understood why his siblings grew attached to you. With just your smile, you seem to radiate positivity. The way the skin around your eyes would crinkle as you smile indicates that you laugh so often, developing laughter lines under your eyes.

He watched you as you sat there doing nothing, seemingly waiting for something… for someone. As the time passes by and no one is coming, the smile in your eyes slowly fades and is replaced by worry and sadness, your figure growing fidgety as your awaited guests haven't come yet.

Standing up, you patted your behind and began looking around. “Lo’ak? Are you still coming?”

There's a crack in your voice, as if you're on the verge of breaking down. The sadness in your tone is so palpable that even Neteyam felt a stab in his heart. Neteyam’s breath stuttered as it got stuck in his throat at the familiar name in your lips. Complicated emotions began to erode Neteyam’s heart as he dawned on him. You’re waiting for Lo’ak. The thing between the two of you is actually serious.

He looked at your pained expression as you settled back down on the ground, staring at your guitar with empty eyes. He let out a derisive sneer, finding you extremely ridiculous. How can you be so ambitious? Your people had taken too much from the na’vi. How can you even think you’d have a chance to be with Lo’ak? You're a human, a tawtute, a vrrtep. You can never be with a na’vi.

Neteyam turned around and was about to jump onto another tree when he heard a tune. The familiar sound of string he once heard when Kiri played the guitar. He snapped towards you, seeing you sighing as your fingers began to play with the strings of the guitar.

Where have you been?

Do you know when you're coming back?

Cause since you've been gone

I've got along but I've been sad

Neteyam looked at you with wide eyes, ashamed to admit that your voice does sound a lot better than Seyla. But as the words slipped out of your mouth, he began to notice the depressing tune of your singing. He thought you’d sing something more joyful, something fun, not something so…doleful.

Where have you been?

Do you know when you’re coming back?

Your voice cracked as you fought the tears threatening to spill. You tried to fight off the choking feeling in your throat as your eyes continue to sting. You cannot believe you’re actually getting emotional just by singing.

We were too close to the stars

I never knew somebody like you, somebody

Falling just as hard

I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody

Maybe it's a blessing in disguise (I sold my soul for you)

I see my reflection in your eyes…

You closed your eyes as you mouthed the lyrics, your chest constricting as you thought about Lo’ak, whom you have not seen for so many days. You sang as you thought about your unsaid feelings, unsure if Lo’ak even feels the same way about you. In fact you had never voiced your feelings for the na’vi boy, both of you just knew. No words needed as your bond is something deep. But as times passes by, you wonder if he truly likes you back as you do to him.

I tried to put it out for you to get

Could've, should've but you never did

Wish you wanted it a little bit

More but it's a chore for you to give…

Neteyam doesn't even understand why his chest is feeling so heavy. He should've been happy to see a tawtute suffering, but as he listened to you sing with all your longing, your pain, your love for Lo’ak, he couldn't help but touch his heavy chest, as if he could understand you, could see you.

We were too close to the stars

I never knew somebody like you, somebody

Falling just as hard

I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody

Maybe it's a blessing in disguise (I sold my soul for you)

I see my reflection in your eyes (tell me you see it too)

You knew it was impossible, but you still dreamt of being with Lo’ak. You hoped as you indulged in the moments both of you stole, so you could spend time with each other, wishing that Eywa could understand that need you have for each other. But you're only human. And humans cannot be with a na’vi.

So close, so close

Yet so far away (so far)

I don't know (I don't)

How to be solo (no)

So don't go, oh, no, just stay

You wished you were a na’vi too. So there won't be a hindrance between you and Lo’ak. You always dreamt you’d be like Jake, a human that turned into a na’vi. The chosen one. The savior. But you're just… you. A child left on Pandora when your parents were sent back into your dying planet.

You and I were bright, shooting through the sky daily (yeah)

Lighting up the night, wasn't always right, baby (mm-hmm)

Yeah, every time that we realized it's crazy

And you save me

Lo’ak was the light of your world. He made you see the world. He's a constant in your world that when he suddenly disappeared, you found yourself plunged in the dark, alone and scared.

We were too close to the stars

I never knew somebody like you, somebody

Falling just as hard

I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody

Maybe it's a blessing in disguise (I sold my soul for you)

I see my reflection in your eyes (I sold my soul for you, I know you see it too)

With a sad smile, you ended the song and took a deep breath, cheeks stained with tears. Patting your butt, you walked back into the lab and cursed. “damn, i got so carried away for a simple crush? this is so fucked.”

You never noticed Neteyam’s complicated eyes following you every step, suddenly seeing you in a new light. For instance, your songs are not as cheerful as Kiri said. Even though he’d never admit that to her.

He had to reevaluate everything he knew about you, and perhaps admit that you are not as bad as he thought you were.

You're still not meant for Lo’ak though, that is for sure…

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latexb0n3z · 5 months ago

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Unrequited Love, Lots Of Blow, and a Visit From Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man

CW; self-harm, sexual mentions, drug use, mental illness yadayadayada.

This was kind of a vent in some weird way. Crashed out earlier and had to write something to cope.

Logan woke up to the sound of something(s) shattering. Again.

“Goddammit, Wade,” he muttered, dragging himself off the couch. It wasn’t even 8 AM, and his roommate was already tearing through the place like a tornado.

Roommate. Logan still wasn’t sure how the hell that had happened. Wade had been crashing at his place “just for a few days” six months ago, and somehow, he’d never left. Logan had considered kicking him out more times than he could count, but something about the mercenary’s manic energy—and the raw, broken humanity underneath it—kept him from following through.

Logan pushed open the door to Wade’s bedroom, which looked like a war zone. Clothes, weapons, and takeout containers were scattered everywhere, and Wade stood in the middle of it, panting, holding the remnants of a lamp in his hand.

“Morning, sunshine,” Logan grunted. “What’s this about?”

Wade didn’t look at him. His face was bare, his scars catching the dim morning light. “It was an ugly lamp anyway.” The more Logan looked, the more was wrong. There was blood, literally everywhere. The bathroom mirror was broken, glass and MORE blood everywhere— the living room was a disheveled mess, a broken bottle of Jack, and a shattered cup like Wade had just grabbed the first thing that was near.

Logan crossed his arms. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on, or should I start charging you for broken furniture?”

Wade flinched, then dropped the lamp base to the floor with a clatter. “What’s the point, huh? You don’t care.”

Logan frowned. “You think I’d let you live here if I didn’t care?”

Wade laughed, sharp and bitter. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Logan. You let me stay because you feel sorry for me. Big, bad Wolverine, taking pity on the ugly stray.” He gestured to himself. “Well, guess what? I don’t need your charity! I’ll leave— and like you said, it’s ‘God’s best joke that I can’t die’ and it’s on all of us!” Even though dying is all he wished he could do.

Logan stepped forward, his voice low and steady. “This about the girl?”

That did it. Wade’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Oh, so you did notice. Good for you, Sherlock.” He took a shaky breath, his words spilling out in a torrent. “Yeah, it’s about her- and everything else- and- and, It’s about how you’ve been all smiles and soft eyes around her. How you go out on these little dates, come home smelling like flowers and happiness or whatever the hell normal people do!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You jealous?”

Wade barked out a laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. “Oh, I’m so jealous, Logan. Not because I want her or anything—God, no. I’m jealous because she’s… she’s normal. She’s pretty, and soft, and someone you could actually care about.”

His voice cracked, and his hands clenched into fists. “Not like me. Not like this.” He gestured to his scarred face, his mismatched, worn-down body. “You could never like something like me, right, Logan?”

Logan stared at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was silent except for Wade’s heavy breathing, his manic pacing, his sniffles.

“You done?” Logan finally asked.

Wade blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I said, are you done?” Logan stepped closer, his voice gruff but calm. “Because if you’re waiting for me to tell you you’re wrong, I’m not gonna do it.”

Wade’s face crumpled, but Logan kept going.

“You’re a pain in the ass, Wade. You’re loud, and messy, and half the time, I don’t know whether to strangle you or buy you a drink.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But you’re wrong about one thing. I don’t let you stay here because I feel sorry for you. I let you stay because you’re worth putting up with.”

Wade looked up, his eyes glassy. “You’re just saying that to make me stop crying and breaking things!”

Logan snorted. “Trust me, I’m not the type to say things I don’t mean. And I don’t give a damn what you look like.”

Wade swallowed hard, his hands shaking. “I don’t believe you.”

Logan grabbed him by the shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind. “Then believe this: If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. Got it?”

Wade nodded slowly, his breath hitching.

“Good,” Logan said, letting go and stepping back. “Now clean this mess up before I start charging you for rent.”

But Wade didn’t move and inch. He just looked down at the floor, and cried and cried. He just stood there, vulnerable, without any quips or witty comments to defend himself. Logan thought it was a pain in the ass, but he was still himself— empathetic no matter just how much he wanted to just tell the son of a bitch to get out.

“Wade?” He was sort of at a loss for words. Wade having outbursts wasn’t anything new— but just… standing there, crying. That was a sight to behold. His expression dropped,

“You have no idea, Logan.”

“You think you’re special, bub? I’ve been alive for two-hundred fucking years. I saw the invention of machine guns for one. You have no fucking clue what ideas I have, Wade.”

Wade finally looked up at him, his milky, yellowed eyes glazed over.

“Do you think I’m hideous?”

“What? I just said I don’t give a shit what you look like.”

“That wasn’t my question. I didn’t ask if you cared- I asked if I’m hideous.”

Logan gave him a once over. Wade already had the answer made up in his mind regardless of what Logan said.

He didn’t think Wade was hideous, but he wasn’t attracted to him by any means.

“Okay, Wade! Yes, fine, you’re hideous— that’s what you wanna hear right?! Seems like you’ve already made up your damn mind about the answer.”

Wade gave a half smile, and then just turned on his heel and left, slamming the door so hard it made the whole apartment vibrate.

—

And then weeks passed, and Wade never returned. He’d left all his things there, and Logan considered throwing them out after a while. He’d even left his mask on the couch, which Wade never left without.

Annie was her name, the girl. Soft, brown eyes and strawberry blonde hair, and a round face full of freckles. She wore blouses and skirts, and wedges with white little bows on top.

And Logan liked her. Loved her even. Fell for her harder than he’d wanted to. At first their relationship was casual— cute little dates that made Logan feel normal. And the best part— she was a mutant too. It was nothing impressive, mild telekinetic abilities. She could lift small objects from across the room and shut doors without touching them.

She was peaceful, and domestic and a soft body to lay on. He felt safe with her. She’d spend nights at his place since Wade had left- cooked food for him and let him rest his head on her lap while he stroked his head. Things had gotten serious between them in the weeks Wade had been gone.

They had hot, passionate, electrifying sex- made each other laugh so hard they cried and kissed- and then had more sex. Logan would take her against the counter, in the bathroom, on the couch, in the bedroom. Parts of their lives mingled together. Some of his stuff stayed at her place, and parts of her lived at Logan’s. It was unlike anything he’d had in a long long time.

Meanwhile Wade had been doing as much blow as possible and fucking off. Logan wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard from him. Nobody had. He was torturing himself. He knew he couldn’t die, but he could feel pain. One night he’d played Russian roulette with himself off so much coke it would kill a normal human. He savored what intoxication he could get from alcohol for a couple minutes before the joy was killed by his healing factor.

He’d shoot himself in the head, blow his brains out only to come right back with only half the memories. He’d slit his own throat to choke and watch his ever replenishing blood gush out. He’d cut his fingers off one by one after each line, only to watch them grow back after a couple of hours.

He hadn’t showered in weeks, and smelled like death, blood and straight ass. He didn’t change his clothes, didn’t speak to anyone. Just restarted the same routine he did when Vanessa died. Trying to kill himself but never really dying.

Oh how he missed her. He wondered what she would say to him now, what she would think of who he was. He wondered if she’d be horrified seeing him, or if she’d have loved him anyway. He’d escaped the Weapon X program only to find out from Weasel that she’d been shot and robbed while hooking after he’d disappeared.

He’d had a couple years to reconcile with that… only to fall in love with Logan. What a fucking idiot he was, right?

Unrequited— though he knew Logan had considered him… sort of a friend.

Wade knew he was a pain in the ass, and pissed himself off too most of the time.

It didn’t matter though. He was hundreds of miles away from his life now, taking his shit show all the way to New York City, in the good old United States of America.

—

The New York alley smelled like garbage and rain, a mixture Wade found oddly comforting. The dumpster beneath him was cold and sticky in a way he didn’t want to think too hard about, but it didn’t matter. He was home. Or something like it.

He lay flat on his back, arms spread out like he was trying to make a snow angel on the grimy metal surface. His mask was half-pulled up, just enough to let him belt out an off-key rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart.

“There’s nothing I can dooooo… a total eclipppse of the heaaaart!” he howled, his voice echoing through the narrow alley.

Somewhere nearby, a rat squeaked in protest.

“You’ve got an audience,” came a voice from above.

Wade froze mid-note, craning his neck back to see a familiar figure hanging upside down by a thin strand of webbing. The bright red-and-blue suit was unmistakable.

“Spidey!” Wade gasped, sitting up so fast he nearly fell off the dumpster. He was hopped up on cocaine, meth, angel dust, anything he’d managed to get his hands on tonight. “My second-favorite insect-themed hero! What brings you to my garbage palace?”

Spider-Man tilted his head, his mask’s lenses narrowing. “You’re laying on a dumpster and singing power ballads. Should I be concerned, or is this just a Tuesday for you?”

“Wednesday, actually,” Wade corrected, wagging a finger. “And I’m celebrating my triumphant return to the Big Apple! Came here with nothing but a bag of cash and a dream. And maybe some mild emotional baggage. But mostly the cash.”

Spider-Man flipped down to the ground, landing lightly. “I’m pretty sure that was illegal cash.”

“What isn’t, these days?” Wade said, waving him off. “Besides, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone. Unless you count your ears.”

Spider-Man crossed his arms. “You’re avoiding the question. Why are you really here, Wade?”

Wade leaned back against the dumpster, sighing dramatically. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s a tale as old as time. Boy meets mutant, mutant moves in, mutant gets jealous of said boy’s weirdly functional romantic life and flees to New York to sulk in an alley and reevaluate his choices.”

Spider-Man blinked. “Okay, wow. That’s… more personal than I expected.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the Deadpool Show.” Wade gestured broadly at himself. “We like to keep things raw and unscripted. Keeps the audience engaged.”

Spider-Man crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I know we don’t… vibe exactly, but you seem like you’re going through something. Do you need help?”

Wade laughed, a sharp, hollow sound. “Oh, Spidey, my sweet, built like a gymnast summer child. I’m beyond help. I’m like a car that’s been totaled, set on fire, and then run over by a tank. But thanks for asking.”

“You’re not that bad,” Spider-Man said, though his tone was hesitant.

“Aw, you think I’m redeemable,” Wade said, clutching his chest. “You’re adorable! Like a little web-slinging therapist.”

“Seriously, Wade. You don’t have to do… this,” Spider-Man said, gesturing to the dumpster and the alley. “Whatever’s going on, there’s got to be a better way to deal with it than running away and singing ‘80s ballads in the rain.”

“It wasn’t raining when I got here,” Wade pointed out. “But, fine, I’ll bite. What do you suggest, Dr. Spidey?”

Spider-Man hummed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Maybe talk to the person you’re running from instead of hiding out here. Have an actual conversation.”

Wade snorted. “You think I’m the ‘talking about my feelings’ type? Adorable. Really, top marks for optimism. I already tried- got blood all over the poor guys’ apartment and broke his mirror… Oh- you know Wolverine- Wolvie- Logan? Yeah he’s alive again and I haaaave itttt bad, Spidey.”

Spider-Man sighed. “Wolverine… like? Like… The X-men’s Wolverine? He died! How the hell is he alive again?— wait, don’t tell me he came from a different universe or something.”

Wade tilted his head, clicked his tongue and made finger guns, “Ding Ding Ding! That’s exactly right.” He dropped his hands but remained looking up, studying Spider-Man for a long moment. “You’re way too good for this city, you know that? It’s like watching a Disney protagonist in Gotham.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Spider-Man said dryly.

Wade slid off the dumpster, landing with a flourish. “Fine. You win. I absolutely cannot go back to Canada anytime soon but— I will try to stop doing massive amounts of narcotics and cutting off my limbs are even though they just regrow.”

“You’re really a strange guy, you know that, Wade?”

“Yes— quite intimately actually. Very large part of the reason I’m torturing myself out here in the good old United States of America.”

Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “Quit your sulking, grab my hand.”

Wade raised a… well… what would be his eyebrow if he had any, but said, “Fuck it,” and took his hand.

Suddenly, he was suspended in the air, wind whipping past his ears as they swung through the towering skyline of New York. Wade let out a loud, exaggerated scream. “OH MY FUCK, SPIDEY, THIS IS THE CLOSEST I’VE BEEN TO FLYING SINCE THAT TIME I STRAPPED FIREWORKS TO MY BACKPACK!”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Spider-Man shouted back, his voice barely audible over the rush of the wind.

“BECAUSE I’M AN ICON OF CHAOS!” Wade cackled, twisting his body mid-swing to strike a pose, one hand outstretched dramatically. “LOOK AT ME! I’M PETER PAN BUT WITH MORE TRAUMA!”

Spider-Man groaned. “Do you ever stop talking?!”

“Do you ever stop being an uptight boy scout?” Wade shot back.

Spider-Man didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead twisting midair and flinging a web to the next building. The sudden shift sent Wade swinging wildly, his legs flailing.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” Wade yelled, clutching Spider-Man’s arm like a terrified cat. “Careful there, Spandex Man! Some of us are delicate flowers who bruise easily!”

“You literally can’t die,” Spider-Man said, exasperated.

“Emotionally, Spidey!” Wade quipped. “Emotionally!”

Spider-Man sighed, expertly landing on a rooftop and depositing Wade less-than-gently on the gravel.

Wade sprawled out on his back, catching his breath. “That was either the most fun I’ve ever had, or I’m having a stroke. Maybe both.”

Spider-Man stood over him, hands on his hips. “You’re impossible.”

“Ha! Logan says that too!” Wade sat up, pulling his mask back down. “So, what’s the plan, boss? You didn’t just web-nap me for a heart-to-heart, did you?”

Spider-Man crossed his arms. “I didn’t exactly plan this. But you’re clearly in a mood, and I figured some fresh air might knock some sense into you.”

“Aw,” Wade cooed, “you do care about me! Admit it. I’m growing on you, like a sexy barnacle.”

“Don’t push it.”

Wade leaned back on his hands, glancing out at the city below. The lights of New York twinkled like stars, and for a rare moment, he was quiet.

“…It’s kind of nice up here,” he said after a beat.

Spider-Man sat down beside him, still keeping a cautious distance. “Yeah. It is.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the noise of the city far below fading into the background.

Finally, Wade broke the silence. “You ever feel like you’re just… too much? Like you’re this big, messy disaster that everyone tolerates but no one really wants around?”

Spider-Man glanced at him, surprised by the sudden vulnerability. “I think a lot of people feel like that sometimes., and trust me, you’re definitely a disaster. But… you don’t have to be.”

Wade turned to him, his tone light but his voice just a little too tight. “Wow, Spidey, you’re really laying on the compliments tonight. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.” He said, sarcastically.

Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “Okay, and we’re back to that.” He blushed under his mask, a bit bashful. Everything was an innuendo to Wade somehow.

“Hey,” Wade said, nudging him with his elbow. “Thanks for this. The swing, the chat, the unsolicited life advice… it’s nice to know someone’s got my back, even if you are a dork in pajamas.”

Spider-Man smirked under his mask. “Anytime, Wade. Just… try not to end up sulking on a dumpster again, okay?”

“What a sweetie pie you are, Peter.”

“How the hell do you know my name? It’s not like yours is a secret… but I thought I was doing a good job at this secret identity thing…”

“I’m a mercenary, I know everything even if I don’t want to.”

Peter huffed. “That’s not an answer but… okay, Wade.”

Wade huffed and then tried to push his luck.

“I don’t suppose your kindness extends past swinging… like- a place to-“

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come onnnnn! I thought you were all about being helpful.”

“Hey- I’m all for giving a little support but how do I know you won’t just break my stuff too?”

“One night?”

Peter bit his bottom lip under his mask in thought.

“Ugh, you’re such an ass. Give you an inch and it turns into a mile.”

Wade just stared at him, expecting.

“Fine! One night and then you’re back to whatever you have been doing.”

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eyrina-avatar · 2 years ago

Text

Explaining Periods to The Sullys

synopsis: reader explains what a period is to the Sully kids (with the help of kiri)

pairings: neteyam x reader implied couple(aged up), reader x sully kids + spider

genre: idk, informative??/ comedy???

author's note: you guys didn't forget about dr. max patel, right? I barely see him in anyone's writing. proofread once

warnings: mention of female bodies(?), periods, blood, slight gun mention(nothing violent), maybe a few swear words, slight suggestive comment, slight stabbing threat(threat was made as a joke- calm down guys)

word count: 1.6k words

"OOF" you rubbed your forehead as your butt had just landed on the floor.

"I'm always forgetting that my avatar form is taller than my human body" you sighed as you got up.

"This is the third time this week that you've bumped into that doorpost" Norm snickered before hitting himself on the light bulb above him that was illuminating the lab.

"Crap" he murmured, rubbing the top of his head in pain.

"Ha!" you let out in retaliation.

Spider and Lo'ak laughed at the scene unfolding while Kiri and Neteyam rolled their eyes.

"Anyways, what was it that you kids wanted from the lab?" Norm squinted at the Sully kids, weary of their intentions.

"We just wanted to see where it is that y/n does all of her experiments" Lo'ak responded as he played around with the light fixtures, flipping through some different light colors illuminating a plant.

"Whatever, just don't break anything or the top scientist with have my head for any more expenses." Norm warned

"It's alright, Norm. I'm watching them. They won't break anything. And if they do, I won't take Lo'ak hunting again." You reassured him.

"Hey, what do I have to do with that! You know if you don't teach me how to use one of those rifle thingies then I'll have to wait for my dad. And you know how that is. The last time he taught me was months ago, he's been too busy teaching Neteyam." Lo'ak side eyed his older brother.

"Pff, it's not my fault that you're not responsible enough and that dad gets nervous every time you have a gun in your hands." Neteyam shot back.

"But-"

"Then you'll just have to stop touching everything you see in the lab, Lo'ak. You see? Easy peasy. Problem solved. Then you won't break anything and I can give you your next lesson tomorrow." You patted Lo'ak's back and gave Norm a reassuring smile. 'Don't worry,' you mouthed and turned around, focusing your attention on the Sully kids.

"So, what's the plan?" you tilted your head in question.

"Well, I've gotta get a new oxygen tank for my mask and-" Spider headed for the cabinets

"SPIDER, are you for real?"

"What?" he shook his shoulder in question.

"You're still using those crappy RDA masks that need a wire and oxygen tank and all of that. I thought Norm gave you the new ones, from my research company."

"You own a company?" Max teased as raised his eyebrows at you.

"No... you know what I mean. I mean the science department that I'm part of. The new scientists that came to Pandora after your disastrous RDA was kicked out." You shot a look at the doctor.

"Really, you didn't have to go that far..."

"Oh, lighten up Max." you patted his shoulders. "Anyways, where are those new masks? Spider needs one, he's still using those outdated ones."

"Really, those old masks shouldn't even work anymore." Max shook his head and handed Spider a mask, "Here you go, kid."

"I thought Norm gave him one." Max crossed his arms while conversing.

"Nah, I guess Norm's been too distracted with the Na'vi school he took over after Grace" You shrugged.

"Yea... well, see you later guys, I have some more research to work on." he waved before walking away.

"So, Spider, let's get this thing on. All you have to do is take off all of those wires and that old mask. Next, just put this one on like you did the old one and adjust it and it should start working immediately." You helped Spider with the process while Kiri visited her mother's avatar body.

"No tank or anything?" Spider questioned.

"Nope, this has a little filter thing that automatically filters out the carbon and nitrogen inside the mask. No more heavy tank for you to use." You threw the old air tank to the disposal pile and was headed towards one of your plants before being interrupted by Lo'ak.

"Hey y/n, what's this?" Lo'ak held up a packet of pills.

"Lo'ak, put that back." Neteyam scolded before snatching the pills from his hand and placing it back on your table.

"It says, birth-control," Lo'ak scrunched his eyebrows while reading the words on the wrapper.

"Take once a day to prevent pregnancy..."Spider read aloud before putting the pills back.

"Woah..." Lo'ak and Spider let out in unison before giving you and Neteyam looks.

"Are you guys...doing ummm...having errr" Lo'ak stumbled as tried to get the words out of his mouth.

"First of all, that's none of your business! Second, those pills aren't even for my avatar body. They're for my human body, and not for what you think it is."

"Then for what?" Spider raised his eyebrows at you.

"They're for my period. But only for my human body because my avatar doesn't get periods." You sighed in having to explain periods to fifteen-year-old boys.

"What's a period?" Lo'ak asked.

"Women things." Kiri responded as she rolled her eyes at her brother's nosiness.

"And how would you know? You're a na'vi." Spider interrogated.

"Because girls talk to girls about things they don't talk to boys about. Duh." Kiri shot back.

"So, what is it?" Lo'ak waved his hands in question.

"Yea, what's a, um- a period? Isn't that the little dot that goes at the end of a sentence? At least that's what Norm taught me..." Spider trailed off.

"Yea, you're partially correct, Spider," you gave a small nod as you thought about how you were going to explain things.

"But umm.. I'm talking about a different type of period called menstruation. It's when a female human bleeds for 5-7 days straight each month." you let out as you saw Spider's and Lo'ak's faces change from curiosity to shock.

"L M F A O- Is that how you spell it? FIVE TO SEVEN DAYS STRAIGHT?? You've got to be kidding me. You don't expect us to believe that, right? I mean, sometimes Spider and I do dumb things but you don't expect us to be stupid enough to fall for that, right?" Lo'ak simply stared at you, waiting for a response.

"No, she's right. You guys could definitely learn a thing or two about humans." Neteyam rolled his eyes at his younger brother's ignorance.

"Wait, wait, wait," Spider held his arms out in shock, "You actually bleed for up to a week and don't die? How the hell do you not die?"

"And why do you bleed for that long? And from where are you bleeding?" Lo'ak pitched in.

"She's bleeds from her pu-"

"Kiri." Neteyam warned.

"What? It's true. Might as well be blunt with these two skxawngs." Kiri rolled her eyes again.

"So basically, when a human female starts getting more physically mature, sorta like coming of age.. Her body starts preparing for pregnancy every month. It basically lines the uterus and gets ready for a baby. When the body sees that there is no baby, the uterus starts shedding it's lining for about 5-7 days until it's cleaned up. The shedding comes out in blood and that's what causes the bleeding."

"..."

"What?" You cocked your head in question.

"So basically, because you didn't get knocked up, your body bleeds?" Lo'ak squints his eyes, trying to understand the information he was just given.

"What's so hard about that?" Spider shrugged.

"WH- WHAT'S SO HARD ABOUT THAT?! Are you guys kidding me or what?" You mouth drops at the nonsense you hear coming from the younger boy's mouth.

"You bimbos, it's not just bleeding. It involves many symptoms such as heavy cramping, back pain, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, mood swings, headaches, appetite changes , and more." Kiri stated as she crossed her arms.

"So the symptoms of a cold, big deal." Spider spat out, trying to minimize the severity of everything.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you just say big deal? Maybe I should put a fucking knife in your stomach to see if that's a big deal or not because that's what the cramps feel like. Or maybe, better... I should kick you in the fucking balls, right?" You lashed out at the boy in front of you.

"Damn, chill, he didn't mean it, right, Spider?"Lo'ak tried to calm the situation, "Maybe she's on her period right now..." he whispered.

"Avatars don't have periods you dingbat" Neteyam let out.

"Well maybe her human form is experiencing cramps in the link pod and so the emotions are traveling through the conscious connection and that's why she's so cranky." Spider stepped back, not trying to get on your bad side.

"..."

You only blinked in response as Kiri and Neteyam bursted out laughing.

"What in the name of eywa..."

"I've never heard so much bullshit come out of someone's mouth before." Neteyam shook his head at the human boy's imagination. "You know, y/n told me that humans usually read a big guide book before joining the avatar program... well maybe you should read one on human biology. It's only fitting since you're ehh, you know..." Neteyam trailed off.

"Ha, I'm glad I wasn't the one to say something stupid this time" Lo'ak applauded himself.

"Nah, you too Lo'ak. How about you read it with Spider so you can both giggle at the pictures and whatever shit you two happen to read" you turned away from the boys as you went back to examining the plants you were experimenting on.

"Does she really bleed from her va-" Lo'ak was cut off.

"And for a week straight..." Spider chimed in.

"Shut up!" Kiri's voice rang through your ears as you quietly giggled to yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

should I make more fics like this; reader teaching the sullys some human things? Tell me what you think!

as always, comments/reblogs are much appreciated❤

do not steal my work and please don't post it on ao3 or wattpad

colors used: #01DBFA and #01B3CC

733 notes · View notes

silverzoomies · 2 years ago

Text

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.

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #txt

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onskepa · 1 year ago

Note

Good day to you our fantastic writer! I have a request for thee!

May I request a soon to be parents Spider x reader? Perhaps spider and his wife visit the Sully's at their new home within the Metkayina clan. The reader is still heavily pregnant with only two more month's to go, the Sully's beside jake who's not so surprised along with Tonowari's fam are pretty surprised how different human pregnancy is too Na'vi pregnancy. Like no wonder spider is so anxious and protective!

I basically had read you one shot headcanon about the human and Na'vi mothers and had a craving for husband spider fluffy and just protective sully/tonowari family interactions!

Awe~!! Honestly luv this is such a cute idea! Hopefully this is to yours and everyons satisfaction! Enjoy~!!

--------------

Welcome pon

The island was bursting with busy life. Everyone doing their tasks with great glee, and many making sure everything was set. Why? Word spread of spider, the human na’vi is coming with his mate. Who is heavy with child. The metkayina went out of their way to prepare a pod for them and materials needed for the mate. The sully family were quite stunned and surprised how the clan was willing to do so much for a human. Mostly neytiri. But they appreciate it nonetheless.

So when the day spider arrived on his ikran with his mate, how she looked was a surprise indeed, but curiosity bloomed on the na’vi. Ronal was quick to welcome them to their home. And even quick to lead the couple to their pod and settle in. Tonowari knew that Ronal just wanted to be near the human woman as she wants to observe her pregnancy and take note of things.

“Come on! Come on!” Tuk leads the way as she spots spider’s ikran. Unable to hold it in, she jumps excitedly. Her family is close behind her, also excited to see spider. The ikran lands and off comes spider, waving at the family. The metkayina close, all huddling close to see the new arrivals.

Carefully coming down was a human woman. While she took her time, everyone couldnt help but stare at her stomach. She is very well pregnant. Neytiri quickly approaches them followed by lo’ak and kiri.

“Careful,” Neytiri says softly, grabbing the woman's hands onto hers, balancing her stance. “Oh stop. I'm not made of glass, I'm fine” the woman gently scolds. Light hearted laughter was heard as they made it to the massive group. Jake welcomed spider with a big hug and a rough pat on the back, but being gentle in welcoming the woman.

Tonowari and Ronal walked up to the human couple. Greeting each other in the na’vi customary, spider grins widely “it is good to see you again tonowari, ronal. This is my mate, samyam”. Samyam smiled shyly but was excited to meet the reef na’vi.

“Welcome, I hope the travel went well” Tonowari says first. Spider nods, “it took us longer but it was needed. I don't want anything to stress samyam”.

“Come, you must be tired from your journey” Ronal speaks, guiding the couple to the pod that was waiting for them.

Every step, every glance, move, speak, ronal and tonowari observed samyam carefully. And the human woman clearly noticed that.

“Is something wrong…?” she nervously asks. The leaders shook their heads. “Sorry, it is just…this is our first time seeing a pregnant human” ronal says.

Samyam gently rubs her belly, “it is alright. I was told from spider that you were pregnant when you met him. I too tend to be curious about na'vi pregnancies. I wonder if we are different in that matter or similar”.

“Exactly, how far along are you if you don't mind me asking” Tonowari asks. Quietly counting, samyam replies “7 months. A full term pregnancy is 9 months”. Ronal slightly widens her eyes at the information.

“Then there is much to prepare for your child's arrival” she says. This slightly confused samyam.

“What? But we are only staying here for a week at most-”

“No, you are staying here until your child arrives. You are in a fragil state where anything can happen. I will speak with spider, you are not leaving here for the next two months and that is final”

When Samyam told spider she is with child, like a banshee, spider couldn't help but share the news with literally the whole Omatikaya clan. And since day 1, spider has been nothing but an overprotective partner. Of course Samyam loves it, it shows how much spider is looking forward to being a dad and how serious he is taking it.

But it is also a bit annoying.

Not only spider being super protective, but mo’at, norm, and almost everyone was very protective. Mo’at prepared special teas to help with the pregnancy symptoms, na’vi mothers offered tips and gave her meals that would boost her health. And she was never alone, not for a second. There is someone always with her.

When her belly began to show, as if things weren't annoying already, it tripled. Spider didn't like samyam going deep into the forest, or areas that can be dangerous. Always in the clan village and always in places where there is a lot of people.

Of course samyam did ask to lower down the protectiveness but spider won't budge. As the days go by, slowly samyam is losing her tolerance of how much she is being babied. She understands but god damn! A little room to breathe?

Well more like a big space to breathe.

Spider suggested he and samyam go visit the sully family who live with the metkayina clan. Spider told her what the people there were like and how during his time there, the tsahik, Ronal, was pregnant and gave birth to her lovely child. It made Samyam curious and really eager to see the island. So they planned it out, and were extra careful.

It took a little over a week since they took many breaks for the sake of samyam, but she wanted to get there sooner.

And no sooner as now as when arriving to the island, was she in awe. Everything was beautiful and breathtaking. Now if only the na’vi can stop being just as protective as the omatikaya.

“Spider my love?”

“Yes sevin?”

“Don't you think this is too much?”

“No, too little in fact”

At their new pod, spider wasted no time to make it as comfortable as he possibly can. With the help of Ronal and tonowari, they added soft material in the area where spider and samyam sleep. Adding more nutritional foods in her diet, comfortable clothing, no sharp items near her, and most of all, once again never alone for a single second.

The sully children and the reef children were always with samyam if the adults or spider couldn't be around. Tsireya and kiri being the most curious of the bunch, always having a hand on the belly which samyam didn't mind. Tuk constantly asks questions of what it is like to be pregnant and never misses a beat when the baby kicks.

“I hope its a girl” Tuk says as she lays her ear against samyam’s belly to hear the baby. The human woman strokes the child’s hair, her motherly instincts already in full swing. “Why a girl tuk?” Samyam asks. In a cute puff of the cheeks, tuk explains herself in a serious [adorable] way.

“We have too many boys! We need more girls!”

Everyone around tuk chuckled lightly at her words.

“But tuk, the tsahik already has a girl who likes to follow you around, surely that is enough for girls?” neteyam asks. But tuk stubbornly shakes her head, letting her beads hit her forehead.

“No, more girls”

Samyam couldn't help but laugh out loud. Wrapping her arms around tuk and giving the child a little pinch on the cheek. “Girl or boy, I would love my baby no matter what. And I hope you will tuk, you and everyone”

“Finally I can have you all to myself” spider says with a silly grin on his face as cuddles with the love of his life. Warmth and calmness was in their little home. Samyam leaned back on his broad chest to hear his heartbeat. Calm and steady. “The kids are far better company than your” she teases. Spider lets out a not so surprised scoff.

“They are not even kids, they are literally around the same age as us” spider states. But samyam only humms. “In my eyes, they are kids. I don't care if they are older than me or younger, let my mother filter do its thing”.

“Alright alright if you say so” spider replies.

Gently he places his hand on her belly to feel their child. And as if by instinct, the child kicks at the feel of his hand. Spider couldn't help but smile bigger. “Our child misses you” Samyam whispers, her eyes drooping a bit.

“And I miss them”

Their baby has become a bit more active. As each day they reach closer to due date, it is as though the baby knows. And wants to make itself known.

“Hey spider?”

“Yeah?”

“I want meat”

As days pass into weeks, Ronal takes close observation to samyam, every day Giving the human woman regular checkups and would often ask questions out of mere curiosity. And what she was able to conclude so far is like a na’vi pregnancy, samyam would have odd cravings. Foods that are not so good for humans as spider would confirm, yet samyam would ask demand to eat foods that are not consumable. Yet spider and at times, ao’nung would hunt and give her the foods she craves.

And by Eywa’s miracle, samyam eats the food with no problem.

Another thing is the other pregnant na’vi would say they have an odd need to be around samyam and vice versa. The mothers needing to be together as company is a nice and delightful sight to see. Ronal noticed that samyam would get annoyed if too many would be over protective of her. Yet she is more at ease with the other pregnant females.

And tonowari is no different. When spider is busy or the sully family are occupied, he would watch over samyam at a distance. Making sure there is no threat in her path, a little pebble? Out of the way! A broken seashell? Begone! But of course in a low profile or the human would catch on.

Tonowari is also happy that spider would seek him out for advice on what to do or what to prepare. And tonowari being a proud father, would happily help.

“Damn it….!!” Samyam curses under her tongue as she struggles to get up.

Neytiri sees it and helps her stand up. Giving the human woman comforting words, she observes the belly. The due date is reaching very soon, and clearly the 9 months is almost complete.

“Samyam, I think it is best if you stay in a resting spot until the baby arrives” Neytiri suggest. This earns her a groan of misery from the human woman.

“But neytiri, I'm tired of just staying put. Spider has me under house arrest! I need to move, and staying here won't-uuughh!!” samyam stops herself as she releases another painful groan. The weight of her stomach was starting to become more unbearable.

“See? You are in no condition to leave. And spider is right to have you ‘under house arrest’ as you phrase it. This is a serious matter, samyam. If there is something you need you can tell me or the others. We will gladly get it for you, "Neytiri says.

Helping samyam back to her comfortable spot, she couldn't help but sigh.

“How did you do neytiri? Baring three children?” Samyam asks.

Thinking back to those neytiri hums for a moment before replying. “My pregnancy with neteyam was not an easy one. He was my first. I did hunt during my pregnancy but as neteyam grew, it was getting more difficult to do my tasks. Until Jake told me to stop. Stubborn he was but I listened. Lo’ak and tuk were more easy”.

Samyam listens and looks down at her belly. First time pregnancies are never easy as she heard from neytiri and other na’vi mothers.

“I worry though. I dont wish to tell spider since he is already protective as he is but I worry something will go wrong…that the birth won't go right” samyam confesses. Neytiri gets closer to her and gently kisses her forehead. “

“Yes, it may be scary, but it is natural. It means your motherly instincts are there. But I and Ronal will make sure you are well when the time comes” she promises.

“Is that a tulkun?” Samyam asks to spider as he carves a wooden figure. He nods as he has his full concentration on his work. “Yeah, lo’ak helped me with some important details to make it good. Want to make enough when the baby arrives”.

Samyam smiles warmly, he really is excited.

And so was someone else.

The sound of water leaking was heard, spider quickly turned around to see Samyam smile, but in a painful way.

“Go get Ronal before I awaken the village”

In the midst of the night, the village awoke by the loud screams of samyam. Her lungs reaching full capacity.

Spider was quick to get ronal and tsireya and have them into his pod, screaming that the baby was coming.

With the help of neytiri, kiri and tuk, ronal and tsireya got to work.

Spider had to be outside of the pod for the women to do their duties. So he stayed in the sully’s pod. There, jake, tonowari and the boys were there to comfort him. It did help, but only a bit. Hearing samyam scream in utter pain made him anxious and deeply scared. So many things could happen and he wasn't there to support her.

“Bro, its going to be ok. They know what they are doing” Lo’ak says, patting spider in the back. Tonowari nods and adds in, “Ronal has assisted in many births. She and my daughter know what they are doing”.

“Yes but I just can't help it!” Spider screeches.

Jake walked over to him and gave a tight squeeze on his shoulder. “Hey, I get it spider. This is the first time for literally anything and everything. But the best thing you can do is just hope to Eywa that she and the baby will pull through”.

With easing words to spider, he calmed down more.

But for long hours, until the sun appeared in the horizon did the screaming stopped.

The baby arrived.

“Come spider, meet your child” Tsireya calls for him with a wide happy smile. Grabbing his hand she leads him back to his pod. And inside was a lovely sight.

On the comfortable bed layed samyam, sweaty yes but smiling with happy tears. And she was holding something small in her arms.

“Congrats spider, you are a dad to a healthy baby” kiri complements as she and the ladies leave to let the family have some alone time.

Getting closer, spider lays beside his beloved to see their new found family member. Swaddled in a blanket was the most beautiful baby spider has ever seen. Small but pretty pink skin tone, round cheeks and a button nose.

“H-hi baby….Im…Im your dad” spider stutters out, emotional tears running down his face. Samyam gently hands her child to him. “So perfect…” she praises in a tired voice. They share a deep kiss in gratitude. Looking down at their child with pure love.

“What should we name our child…?” Samyam asks. They thought of many names in the past months but none stuck out. Until now. One suddenly emerged in spider’s mind.

“Pon….our child’s name will be pon” he says with determination. Samyam repeats the name, liking how it sounds. So, gently stroking her baby’s head, and with a warm smile, brighter than the rising sun, she welcomes her baby.

“Welcome Pon, to your new world”

Aaaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! Honestly this one was so cuuuuuuuuuuute~!!! I love how it turned out. Until next time! see ya!

---------

Samyam = hug, embrace

pon = balance

#avatar #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi avatar #avatar 2 #na'vi x human #lo'ak #kiri #jake sully #neteyam sully #neytiri sully #metkayina clan #omatikaya clan #spider soccoro x reader #spider socorro #spider sully

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sweetspidergirl · 10 months ago

Text

A Tangled Web (Spider HRT Story)

Chapter 1

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?”

This question echoed in my head as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the doctor's office, accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking away in the background. Besides me and the receptionist behind the counter, there was no one else in the room. That made sense. With it being a few days before Christmas, who would willingly want to spend any amount of that time in such a depressing location?

A twenty-five year old woman dissatisfied with her life and seeking a new one, apparently.

As I sat there waiting for permission to see the doctor, my mind drifted back to how I got here. It was half a year ago where I first vented frustration over my life to my best friend Elisa, and she mentioned how I might be going through species dysphoria. She then sent me some articles and links and suggested I look into humanity removal therapy, or HRT.

I had been vaguely aware of humanity removal therapy, often referred to as therian HRT, for a few months by that point. It functioned mostly like hormone replacement therapy, only it would gradually change the patient into a human/animal hybrid, or therian. It was a recent development, only having been available to the public for a little over five years, and still had quite a bit of controversy associated with it from various political groups. Despite that, based on the testimonials I read and the various pictures I saw, the people who have gone through therian HRT seemed to be happier now than they ever had as humans. Maybe it would be worth it if I gave the whole thing a shot. Maybe being in another body might help me be happy again.

I glanced down at the blank screen of my phone, looking over myself in annoyance. I noted the long, messy brown hair that I barely made look presentable. I noted the pale skin caused by a lack of social interaction and preferring the light of a screen over the sun. I noted the oval-shaped glasses and casual hoodie and sweatpants that hid as much of me as possible. I was another drop of water in the ocean that was humanity. Even my blue eyes, once bright and full of hope, had started to appear dim and non-descript as of late.

“Taylor Thompson?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the doctor called my name. Turning my head in his direction, I got a good look at the man who would be deciding my future. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 50s or 60s, with a grey receding hairline and mustache. His thick, round glasses made it hard for me to see his eyes. Grabbing my belongings, I quietly followed the doctor as he guided me to his office. The office was what I expected to see: a small, plain white room with a desk, degrees on the wall, and bookshelves full of books that I would be too dumb to properly understand. On the desk was a small nameplate that read “Dr. T. H. Erian, Species Dysphoria Specialist” in large, clean letters. I set my bag beside me and took my seat, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I swallowed the lump of anxiety that was forming in my throat. There was no turning back now.

“So, Miss Thompson, what brings you here today?” Dr. Erian asked in a stern voice. One sentence in and I was already having flashbacks to my high school principal. The main difference here, however, was that my answers actually mattered for more than avoiding detention.

“I, um, was hoping to be prescribed therian HRT. Specifically spider HRT.” I answered, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I see… and why a spider, if I may ask?” The doctor questioned as he began writing something on a piece of paper in front of him.

“Well, I think spiders are a lot like me. Most people are scared of them, but in reality they’re mostly just nervous, adorable little beans.” I explained with a bit of blush on my face.

“Any preferred species of spiders?”

“I was hoping to be a tarantula. They're cute and fluffy, and I think I'd look just as good as one.”

“May I ask why you wish to undergo humanity removal therapy?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I've been unhappy with myself lately. My diet's been awful, I rarely go outside and interact, and in general I just hate everything about myself. My best friend, Elisa Andrews, thinks I might be going through species dysphoria. She works with therians and otherkin daily, so I assume she's right.” I explained to Dr. Erian. I then handed him a folder that contained the paperwork Elisa told me I'd need before being prescribed therian HRT: a medical examination, two psychological evaluations, written support from her and my father. I even spiced the folder up with doodles of webs and cartoon spiders in hopes that it would help my case.

Dr. Erian looked through the paperwork I gave him. I was unable to get a good idea of what he was thinking. His flat, emotionless voice was hard to read, and thanks to those glasses I couldn't tell whether he was impressed by work or annoyed at me wasting his time. I was hoping it was the former.

“Miss Thompson, before we continue, I'd like to ask an important question.” Dr. Erian spoke as he set the folder down in front of him on the desk. “How much do you know about therians?”

“How much do I know?” I asked curiously. “I mean, my best friend’s a physical therapist that works with therians, and I'm kinda aware of some of the legislature that's been passed recently-”

“That's not what I am referring to.” Dr. Erian interrupted. “I want to know if you understand what therians go through, what the process of going through humanity removal therapy is like and how you'll have to adapt. You are aware that I recommend patients spend some time living as their desired species before I prescribe them HRT, correct?”

“I-I mean… if it helps I have a few spider plushies.” I said sheepishly. I could already feel my luck running out.

Dr. Erian sighed and gently rubbed at his forehead before speaking again. “Miss Thompson, this is a serious life-changing procedure. Once you start therian HRT, your DNA will be rewritten to match your chosen species. You'll never be human again, even if you stop early into your therapy. I cannot prescribe it to just anyone who steps foot into my office.”

I sunk into my seat slightly, bringing my knees just under my chin as I almost curled up to feel safe and protected. “B-but… I was told you can help people with this kind of stuff.”

“I can, and I do. However, not everyone needs HRT. What you may think is species dysphoria could very well just be depression, and what you may need is something far simpler than a complete genetic rewrite.” The doctor explained.

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the doctor's words. He was saying so much when it all boiled down to one word: “no.” No, I couldn't get humanity removal treatment. No, I couldn't have happiness. No, I was doomed to hate myself for the rest of my miserable life. Tears started to creep their way out of my eyes, stinging slightly as they worked their way down my cheeks.

Just as I was about ready to give up and head home, I glanced up and noticed Dr. Erian looking through my papers once more. I was expecting him to scold me again. I hid my face against my knees and closed my eyes, bracing myself for his harsh words to wound my heart further.

“...are you sure becoming a tarantula will make you happy?”

I slowly brought my eyes up to look at Dr. Erian, not fully emerging from my self-made cocoon as I processed his question. What was making him change his mind? Did he believe that I'm suffering from species dysphoria after all, or was he simply taking pity on me? Regardless of the answer, I couldn't let this opportunity slip by my fingers.

“Y-yes… yes it will, doctor.” I responded, almost forcing myself to do so. A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like hours as Dr. Erian stared at me, almost examining me. I gripped the sides of my legs, waiting anxiously for either him to continue lecturing me or for me to have the courage to speak again.

“Well, if that is your answer, then I will approve you for tarantula HRT.” Dr. Erian said, writing on the piece of paper some more. “Considering it's the holiday season, it's likely your pharmacy won't receive your first dosage until after the new year, though.”

My heart almost skipped a beat at the news. I was… actually going to be a tarantula?! “Wait, really? You're… approving me for the HRT?” I asked, nearly jumping out of my seat. “Oh thank you Doc! Thank you very, very much!”

Dr. Erian sighed, writing some more information down on the paper. “As I explained, transitioning to a different species won't be easy. There will be some side effects to expect as your body changes.” He explained, making sure I had calmed down a bit before he continued. “Not all therians will experience the same side effects. Not all side effects will be present at once. Some will show up at different stages of your transition. At the earliest stages of spider HRT, I would primarily expect to see itchy skin as your hair grows in, as well as weight gain to provide material for your additional body parts to develop. Beyond that, you may experience headaches, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and possible body pain.”

After making sure I understood the side effects I might encounter during my transition, Dr. Erian started digging through a drawer in his desk, and from there pulled out two items. The first was a pamphlet that had “Welcome to your Humanity Removal Therapy” written on the cover, alongside “Species: Spider” and a minimalist illustration of him. “This pamphlet will help guide you through your transition, Miss Thompson. It provides details on a recommended meal plan, the type of environment you should live in, a rough timeline of what changes you should expect and when you should expect them, a full list of potential side effects, and more.” The doctor explained. “I would make sure to give this a thorough read if I were you. I'll also be sending you a digital copy after our meeting. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I will provide an answer at the earliest convenience.”

I took the pamphlet in my hands, almost crushing it in excitement. “Of course Doc. I'll definitely give it a read once I get home.”

Just as I was about to get up and leave, Dr. Erian cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I must discuss with you before we conclude here, Miss Thompson.” He said, causing me to sit back down in my seat. “I still disapprove of you not doing any research on therian culture prior to our meeting. So… I'd like for you to interact with other therians while you're taking HRT. It's not mandatory, but I do feel it will not only help you learn about your new lifestyle but also potentially help with your mood.”

As Dr. Erian said that, he handed another item. I took it in my hands and looked it over. Instead of another pamphlet, it was a flyer detailing a therian support group that was close to where I lived. It detailed that it was bi-weekly, and that it was open to those on HRT, regardless of stage, as well as those questioning.

“I'll keep that all in mind. Thank you so much for all of this, Doc.” I said, stuffing the papers in my bag. After discussing insurance and other important information to get my prescription set in stone, I left the office and gave a heavy exhale as soon as I was outside. That was probably the most stressful talk I've ever had, but it was done and over with. While I stood outside and caught my breath, my phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, I saw that I was getting a call from Elisa.

“So, how'd it go?” Elisa asked, sounding exceedingly curious. Looking at the time on my phone, I hadn't realized she had just finished with work by the time I finished my meeting.

“Well, I managed to get the prescription, so that's good. You didn't tell me he was gonna be so scary though.” I answered back with a tiny bit of irritation in my voice.

“Hey I never met the guy personally. Besides, you still got the HRT in the end, so it all worked out.” Elisa answered back. “So how long before you start spinning webs and crawling up walls?”

“Well, my first dosage won't arrive until after the new year. Beyond that, well…” I trailed off a bit, glancing back at my bag and the papers inside of it. “I have some homework to do.”

---

Welcome everyone! This is the start of a (hopefully) long-term project I intend to work on. This is the story of Taylor Thompson, a 25-year-old woman seeking a change in life through humanity removal therapy. In the process of transitioning from human to spider, she'll learn more about the world of therians, as well as learn more about herself and what she wants out of life.

I want to thank @ayviedoesthings, @welldrawnfish, @entroart, @bubbleverseart, @nyxisart, @prettiestplatypus, @deadeyedfae, @kaylasartwork, and anyone else I may have forgotten (there's a lot of people I'm so sorry ><) for creating the world of therian HRT and creating such a community, as well as my fiancé for showing them to me and for inspiring me to give my own version a try. I can't say when the second chapter will be done, so just keep your eyes open, and I hope you all will join me on this long, wild ride.

Thank you so much in advance.

#furry hrt #therian #otherkin #spider hrt #furry #transformation #fantasy hrt

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mylesimeblr · 1 year ago

Text

A little Aonung/Spider I've been working on... (not proofread)

Warning: T rated for this one but might go up to M or E rated when finished (I might add a first time moment at the end of this)

Aonung has had enough.

Can’t they mind their own business?

Yes, he knows Spider is different from him, in more than one way. But he has accepted it. So why do they have to make such a big fuss and be so weird about it?! Three talks! He’s already had to suffer three talks! With their worried expressions and not so subtly allusions he might hurt Spider with his size and his weight, as if he were some sort of horrible brute. It makes him sick, this image they have of him… of them and his love.

Yes, he’s aware making Spider his official mate will be… a conundrum. He’s not stupid. He’s seventeen. He passed his Rite. He’s an adult now. Spider has no Kuru to make the bond with him. He couldn’t even pass his own Rite, being unable to ride a Tsurak like a Na’vi. Jakesully said that Spider can be considered an adult in human standards but the tribe will never validate it - not really. And Spider is small. Child sized. He reaches Aonung at the waist and Aonung isn’t stupid. He noticed how incredibly much larger he is and what it means. Yes, he’s scared. But he knows that adorable tawtute is the one. Did he ever think his mate would be a tawtute? No! But that’s what happened. And now, he’s determined to take things as they are and not as he wishes they were.

He will make this work.

He knows he can, somehow.

That Avatar - Norm - was a great help. He owes him a lot. He’s the one who told him about human physiology and how Spider’s body works. It was probably the only interesting talk he’s had so far… So much better than all the fearful warnings he got from his father, Toruk Makto and even his mother. Neytiri was… her whole sort of weird. That woman is terrifying - poor Toruk Makto. But Norm was different. Norm was… trying. He was instructive.

Aonung wants the evening to be perfect.

He has spent hours preparing everything while Spider was held busy by his very supportive sister. When Lo’ak understands why Tsireya insisted they needed to weave twenty five new nets when most of the used nets seem to be perfectly fine, he might get angry. But that’s an ordeal for another day. Right now, his priority is to finish having things ready when Spider returns to his shack. He hopes the boy will not find him intruding or strange… He has no idea how to court a Sky Person. He knows Spider was born and raised among Na’vi but he still has his own things about him that Aonung can barely start to understand.

It took Spider months to understand the young Na’vi was courting him at all.

He accepted the gifts but with an expression that even Aonung translated as confused. It was only when Kiri told him that Spider had no idea Aonung was courting him at all that he decided to communicate with words and Aonung confessed that he was indeed interested in the tawtute. He thought it would finally settle everything down but then Spider rejected Aonung’s courtship and it hurt. Because Aonung wasn’t expecting to be rejected.

It could have ended right then and there but Aonung was not one to give up and he persisted. He liked this cute but fierce little tawtute and was determined to win him over. It took a moment but Spider eventually confessed his fears and Aonung did his best to reassure him. Yes, they were different species but he was sure they could make this work, somehow.

Then, his parents - and the Sullys - decided to step in and discourage him, arguing that he was going to hurt the little human with his large body and that this relationship had to stop before it even got started.

But Aonung doesn’t care. He knows he can make this work. He knows he can.

Which is why he finds himself currently preparing a pik’nik right in the middle of Spider’s shack, not really knowing if what he’s doing is the right thing at all.

The door of the shack suddenly depressurizes and the metal clicks.

A few seconds later, Spider’s voice rises into the windowless room.

“Hey Nung, Reya said you were looking for me… Why are you in the dark-”

He stops right at the threshold, his sentence finishing itself in the air. Aonung feels his heart beating in the back of his throat. His tail goes rigid behind him and his ears fall backwards. Spider is blinking at him with the most dumbfounded expression he has ever seen on his face, eyes wide, lips parted and Aonung does feel like a fool, his immense body knelt as it can in the middle of the room on a blanket that is already too small for him and that forces more than half of his body on the cold metal floor to leave enough space for the small human to fit. He tried to reproduce as best as he could the pictures Norm gave him but couldn’t find any candles like they had and he didn’t want to risk burning the whole place with a torch so he settled for bioluminescent plants that he put in jars instead. It doesn’t give that warm orange light, the plants basking the room in dim hues of pink and blue that reflect on the walls around them and the floor. He harvested Spider’s favorite human edible fruit and took some bread, vegetables and dippings that he arranged in bowls, as well as swamp nectar and prune juice.

For long seconds, Spider just stays there, watching the display in front of him, stunned and at a loss for words. It doesn’t help alleviate Aonung’s nervousness in the least.

“What… What is that?” Spider eventually asks.

Aonung’s ears flicker. Did he do something wrong? Did he miss something in his… reproduction of tawtute culture?

“It’s uhm… A… pik’nik,” he says, trying to pronounce the foreign word correctly.

Spider blinks, “Oh!”

“You know them, right?” Aonung presses, feeling more and more anxious that his idea completely missed the point.

“Only from Norm and Max’s stories. I never really… had one before…” His face takes on that adorable pink color Aonung loves so much, “But… why?” he asks and he sounds like he has no idea why Aonung went through all that trouble.

“For you,” Aonung explains.

“Me?” Spider repeats as if the concept of someone doing something like this for him is an impossibility.

“Yes, you. Please, come sit with me.”

Spider blinks and wobbles on his legs, joining Aonung on the blanket. He swallows. Aonung smiles. It’s one of the first times he can see Spider without his mask. What a beautiful sight. He takes a deep breath from his own mask.

“Is that… swamp nectar?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get it?”

Aonung smirks, “I’m the Olo’eyktan son. It comes with privileges!” he says, sounding shamelessly smug and proud of himself.

Spider chuckles and his face flushes again.

They begin to eat, talking about their day. Spider is always shy at first but when Aonung starts speaking with him, he suddenly opens up and can no longer be stopped, going on and on and on about the fish they saw and the nets they weaved and how Lo’ak kept growling the whole time. Aonung smiles and chuckles, watching him. There are so many colors on him when he speaks. It’s like the words are dancing on his skin, each one of them a different emotion that lights him up in so many different shades. His own human bioluminescence. It’s fascinating.

Spider suddenly realizes that Aonung is staring at him intensely. He stops talking and frowns, looking self-conscious again.

“What?” he asks, pouting a little.

Aonung smirks, “You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

Spider swallows, his Adam apple bobbing as he does. Aonung blinks at him. Slowly, he cups his face. His hand is so much bigger, it encircles his head completely. His heart starts beating faster. It’s the first time he can touch his beautiful face, the first time he finally has access to that masterpiece held behind a glass for so long. Gently, he swipes his thumb under Spider’s eye. The skin is so soft.

“Sevin,” he whispers.

Spider swallows again. His eyes are huge. His lips tremble. A breath passes through them, hitting Aonung’s hand with its warmth. He blinks at the tall Na’vi. Aonung bends down slowly toward him. Spider’s breath hitches through his nose and fills his lungs with too much air, making his throat tickle with the need to cough.

Their lips touch for the very first time.

Aonung has already kissed his mask a few times already but nothing compares to this. Spider’s lips are warm and tiny against his. Aonung’s mouth takes almost all of Spider’s lower face and he adjusts his angle not to smother the human and free his nose, making Spider’s chuckle in the kiss. Yes, that size difference is really awkward. But Aounung wouldn’t change it for the rest of the world and laughs. Spider wraps his small arms around Aonung’s neck, his fingers digging into the thick curls. The Na’vi moans at the gentle contact. Slowly, he opens his mouth and pokes the tiny lips with the bit of his tongue, requesting entrance. Spider shakes against him but parts his lips nonetheless and Aonung touches the tip of a tiny tongue and it feels like a spark of electricity. His braid is heavy on his lap. From the corner of his eyes, he sees his Kuru open and the tendrils reach up, desperate to touch the tawtute.

The kiss deepens. Spider’s hand cups Aonung’s face. Aonung strokes the soft skin of Spider’s cheek with the back of his fingers. The kiss is slow, careful. Aonung knows that he can’t push the fragile human and he doesn’t want to. This feels so nice, kissing him and touching him like this. Spider tastes like fruit and Swamp nectar. He’s delightful.

They part. Spider gives him a shy smile and looks down. His lips are a bit swollen and pink. He looks adorable and so much more edible than any of the food on that blanket. Aonung keeps his hand on his face and kisses the tip of his nose gently, making Spider chuckle.

Their eyes meet.

They’re both breathing hard and deep.

Their bodies are hot, heart racing behind their rib cages.

Gently, Aonung lays a soft kiss on Spider’s cheek before diving into the warm crook of his neck. The human’s reaction is immediate. Goosebumps suddenly cover his skin and he moans loudly, tilting his head. Ok, so the neck is very sensitive for humans. Good to know! He gently sucks on the skin, mindful to keep his teeth away and not leave any mark. But that skin is so soft and tender.

“Nung!” Spider whines.

Aonung pulls away and returns to face him with a playful smirk.

“My cute little tawtute is sensitive!” he gently mocks.

Spider turns beet red again but looks down in haste.

“Spi?” Aonung asks, “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he’s suddenly anxious - he did try to be as gentle as he could.

“What?! No! Of course not!”

Aonung relaxes at that.

“Then, what is it?”

He touches Spider’s cheek again, marveling at the softness of that skin he can never feel against his fingers. With his other hand, he takes his mask and breathes deeply in it, the intensity of the kiss having left him a little too dazed for his own good.

Spider shrugs, “Nothing… I just…” shyly, he looks up at the Na’vi, “I just like you, I guess…” he’s quick to look down again.

Aonung feels his heart miss a beat. Here, just the two of them in the confinement of this tawtute shack, in that strange colorful darkness, it feels so much more intimate than in the open of the sea. It fits them. It makes them belong.

“I like you too,” he says, “So much, Ma Spider.”

Spider nibbles his bottom lip, not looking at Aonung. He’s adorable. He smiles and bends down to kiss him again just as gently as the first time. He tastes fruit and swamp nectar again. His mouth is so warm and wet. He loves it. His fingers sink into Spider’s dreads, then on his shoulders, brushing against the blue painted patterns on his skin - he wonders if Spider will let him paint him. His hands find their way down Spider’s arms and onto his waist. The skin is so hard there. There are so many muscles. He’s really beautiful.

His ears fall backwards.

He can feel himself… react. But he won’t give his parents reason. He can control himself. He knows he can. Spider’s is more important than any heat.

“Can I… see you?” he asks in a whisper.

Spider looks up in haste, “What?”

Aonung’s tail swipes nervously behind him, “Can I look at you… I really want to see you, Ma Spider.”

“I’m right here,” Spider babbles.

“Without your Tweng,” the Na’vi specifies with a smirk, “I want to touch you. All of you. If you allow me."

Spider’s eyes widen and he thinks he’s going to faint.

#miles spider socorro #aonung #aocorro #avatar the way of water #mylesime fics #spider socorro

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 1 year ago

Text

Within cells, interlinked (Miguel O’Hara x Ai/Hologram! Fem! reader) Part 1

Hiii! Very excited about this bad boy, this is inspired by K and Joi’s relationship in bladerunner 2049, and this panel from 90’s run of the Spider-Man 2099 comics. Also there is some heavily implied (at the very least one sided) holofang (Miguel x Lyla) at the beginning, if that isn’t your cup of tea, then I’m sorry but that’s how I wrote it. Not proofread, enjoy!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Implied (one sided???) holofang, Lyla is like basically dead, mentions of sex work, cursing, Miguel being a sad lonely lonely man, ansty (if you squint), Miguel being a little mad scientist like at the end. Tbh idk really know what to tag these as.

Word count: 3k

Part 2

Masterlist

Playlist I listened to while writing

—

Neuva York 2099.

A dystopian wasteland that was once a pristine and other worldly city. But, like every other beautiful thing, it would be destined to fall, thanks to Kingpin, who now had the city under his thumb. Straile white buildings that once stood tall, crumpled and decayed, being replaced slowly but surely with dark titanium steel. Holographic projections filled the sides of ugly skyscrapers, advertising anything and everything, ranging from restaurants and video games to Ai women and cyborg upgrades.

Miguel’s original Ai assignment was unfortunately no longer functional, her software having been corrupted due to a virus that was released onto Miguel’s suit during a fight with Doc ock, Miguel having no other choice but to terminate her software, putting her out of her misery. It not only set Miguel back from his usual tasks as Spider-Man and his work at Alchemax, but the whole spider society, Lyla being the one who controlled the whole mainstream to the entire operation, along with help from Spider-Byte, but she couldn’t run the whole society technology wise, she had a life outside of her role there.

If Miguel had the time, he would have done what he had done the first time, and redesign her from scratch, raising her from her nonexistent grave. However, he knew he didn’t have the time. He had spent months programming her, not to mention the years it took for him to upgrade her into what she had become. It’s only been a week, and he could already see the cracks that were forming without her to hold it all together. His universe was already in disarray, he didn’t need another thing to crumble into dust in his hands.

The walk from the Alchemax back to his apartment was meant to help him clear his head, but it only dampened his mood more, bitter cold air and large dark clouds rolling in slowly, threatening to pour down on the decile city. Keeping his head held high and eyes forward despite his desire to go deep into a dark alleyway and swing the rest of the way home, keeping the tension in his temples build up with every sleazy salesperson attempting to sell him a sketchily low price for random gadgets that he was certain was stolen, or sex workers attempting to coax him into a small brothel. All kinds of lives walked past him as he ventured home, humans, cyborgs, full robots and AI holographic companions, a million life stories that could be told.

Less and less began to cross his path as he neared his apartment building, eye bags dark and sunken in as he turned his head to the left, he was now alone on the sidewalk, stopping as he put his hand on the railing that lined the evaluated walkway, he remembered not even 10 years ago, that very spot would look out to a beautiful pond, small ducks that pattered around, families gathering around to have little outings, ones that Miguel only ever really dreamed of. Now, all that was a ginormous digital billboard that would switch advertisers every week or so. Although he never really expected they’d project the one that was on display now. He had to squint a bit so that the now dripping rain didn’t get into his eyes as he watched the projection.

“The perfect companion, the perfect coworker, the perfect partner. Joi, your personal Ai. Everything you want to hear, everything you want to see.” The sentences rotated between each other over and over, Miguel stayed silent as he stared mindless at the naked back of the large Ai hologram, their skin admitting a light glow as she sensually ran her hands through her hair. Despite the words “companion” and “coworker” showing up on the ad, it was painfully obvious what the holographic woman was really meant for.

Still, he caught himself unable to look away, despite seeing the ads hundreds of times prior to this moment. He didn’t even register when the Ai had turned around and squatted in front him, making it so the two were at eye level.

“Hello handsome.” His eyes finally drifted up to meet hers once she spoke, he wasn't very fond of the default version they often used on most of their ads, so seeing this version in front of him was a lot more of a nicer sight to see. “What a day hmm?” When he didn’t respond she just came closer, “you look lonely… I could fix that…” She whispered with a head tilt, “you look like a good Joi…” before getting back up and moving away from Miguel once more.

Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was his way of pretending he wasn’t mourning an algorithm, maybe it was just him being tired of carrying everything on his shoulders, still… his eyes slowly went down to his orange watch, moving it in front of the bare glowing figure, before his free hand slowly hovered over the watch, hesitating for a moment, before pressing purchase.

—

Once Miguel got home he spent the next hour or so reworking your programming, jailbreaking and removing restrictions, wanting to make sure you were prepared to handle the society’s system before he even turned you on to make sure you wouldn’t crash the second you were hooked up to it.

Eventually, once everything ran to meet his expectations, he stood back and waited for you to appear in front of him. Waiting impatiently as he watched the small loading circle chase itself until you appeared, although you weren’t fully “awake” still, eyes closed, head slumped forwards and arms hung limply to your sides. Still needing to be given a name, an outfit and if he desired to change anything from your physical appearance he could. He decided to keep your assets the same, and placed a simple outfit on you, deciding if you ever evolved enough to be sentient on the same level as Lyla was, that he’d give you free range to change it. For a name though, it was a bit harder of a choice.

Maybe it was him having his previous one for as long as he did, but he wanted you to be… different, then her, a name that wasn’t, well, Lyla. Something nice and pleasant to say, but not simple enough for him to forget in the midst of him in a fight. After some pondering, he finally typed in the name into his watch and pressed the “finalized model”. Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw your head slowly begin to lift and your eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Hello Miguel.” You said him a smile.

“Hello (Y/N).” His lips twitched upwards for half a second.

—

It took a while for your program to adjust and be accustomed to the database, he never realized how much strain he put on his older Ai until he watched you try and accommodate the same thing, yet then again, he built it all around her, instead of vise versa. It wasn’t just you who had needed some time to adjust though. The amount of times that spiders (including Jessica and Miguel) would call for Lyla still instead of you was starting to… annoy you for lack of a better term.

You had been patient at first, appearing despite the slip up, simply correcting the person who called for you and going on with the request, then it seems that the patience started to run thin. Rolling your eyes or letting out snarky little remarks, then eventually you just started to not respond unless they called you by your actual name, which only led you landing yourself in a lecture from Miguel, being threatened to reboot your system. Him ranting about how it could be dangerous or something, after the first few times, it stops being fear insulating, once you even let out a yawn at his usual lecture. A yawn. How close he was to throwing his desk across his office.

The longer you stuck around the more knowledge you gather, the more self-aware you become, mimicking human thoughts and emotions, reading anything you could get your digital little hands on. From the words of Ancient Greek philosophers to thousands of different articles on how the human brain works, what different areas controlled what. You found humans quite interesting, such complex yet flawed creatures, you can understand why so many filmmakers and authors who write science fiction have some odd variation of robots wanting to either become humans or destroy them.

It’s almost cliche, but you can’t help but develop the same fascination with Miguel. How could you not? You were quite literally around him 24/7, you could tell he wanted to be taken care of when he wasn’t taking care of everything himself, and who were you as his assistant to refuse?

—

“Welcome back Miguel.” You smiled as you appeared next to the door before he could even step foot through its threshold. Your eyes followed him as he took his shoes off and threw his keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, landing with a loud clunk.

“I just saw you back at HQ.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him before he made his way to his kitchen, “It's been 20 minutes.” He added as he turned the corner, being met with you already there, leaning against the counter as his coffee machine was already pouring him a new cup in his favorite mug, with the stove being lit on for him to place his left overs onto to warm up.

“Being greeted when you arrive home helps boost your overall well-being.” You quipped, which only gained a small hum of acknowledgement as he placed a pot of bistec on top of the open flame, and a bowl of leftover white rice in the microwave.

“It could also help boost my overall well-being if you didn’t act like such a brat half the time.” He countered back as he stirred the streak and potatoes to make sure it didn’t burn before turning to face you, meeting you with that all too familiar smirk he always gave you. You were quick to mirror it. “You're supposed to make my life easier, ya know?” Despite it being a rhetorical question, your smirk only widely more.

A silence fell over the kitchen as he goes back to focusing on his food, you just stay there, watching as he made quick work fixing his plate, mumbled a small “sorry” to you everytime he would “bump into you” (as Miguel liked to call it) despite him only passing through your holographic body as he grabs the plate and cup of coffee and goes it set it down at the table, making sure to be fast as to not hold onto the gradually warming glass crockery long enough to burn his rough hands.

With a sigh, he sat down in front of his plate as he heard the faint noise of your projection deactivated from the kitchen, leaving him alone in the quiet home of his. He’s fork moving around the contains on his plate, piercing the potatoes and steak but never lifting it up to bite into the steaming meal. After a few more moments of playing with his food, he placed his fork back down, keeping his eyes down on his plate despite him lifting his head up.

“(Y/N).” He called out after cleaning his throat.

“Yes?” Your voice called back out, ringing through his apartment as he waited for you to reappear, only to let out a huff when you didn’t.

“…have dinner with me?” When he finally looked back up, he was met with you already in the chair across from him, a digital plate of food replicating his in front of you. His lips twitched up as he whispered a light thank you for entertaining his wish, even down to mimicking eating as you both sat there, his eyes never leaving yours.

After his appetite was satiated, and the dish were washed, he wander to his living room, being met with the sight of you already being sat down on one of the small leather accent chair that sat to the right of the coffee table, a small orange tablet-like screen being held in your hands as you tampered away on it, most likely readjusting tomorrow's schedule or researching more on some random topic you found interesting. Leaning against the doorway, he couldn't help but watch you, admire you. He found it humorous that you chose to physically sit down and read about topics even though you were built with the knowledge of practically everything. It made you feel more… real. It made him feel less insane when he found comfort in your company.

“Would you like me to leave you alone mig?” You asked after a second, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you. His heart stopped for half a second when you called him by the nickname as he shook his head.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked as he made his way towards you, stopping once he was close enough that if you had a physical being, his legs would have been touching your knees. (What are you doing?)

“Just going over your suit diagnostics, I’ve noticed that it’s been lagging a bit.” You hummed, not even fazed by the close proximity.

“…(Y/N).”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.” He commanded, but his tone is still somewhat soft with the order, your screen evaporating from your hands as you went to meet his gaze. He hesitated for a moment, leaving his dry lips before finally continuing. “You know, I feel like I don’t appreciate you enough.”

“Miguel, I’m your Ai assistant, my whole purpose is to help make your life easier.” You couldn’t help the slight snark that came seeping through your sentence, causing him to let out a scoff and playful eye roll.

“That’s not what I mean, you know that.” He countered with a head tilt, his hands sliding over his thighs and finding their way into his front jean pockets.

“What do you mean then?”

“What do you think I meant?” Now it was you who let out an eye roll as you huffed.

“Miguel, you know I can’t ‘think’. I’m not human, I can simply process and collect information and recite it back. I speak only in facts and unbiased sources.”

He couldn’t help but hate it when you talked like that during casual conversation, despite the deadpan look in your eyes and the small sass in your infliction, it only reminded him that you weren’t real. The only difference from your body and air, was that you were a set of ones and zeros. He could swat a hand through your body and you would simply glitch around it as it interrupted your coding and it attempted to adjust around him, how for once, he wishes that when he would “bump into you” that he would be met with solid flesh, you stumbling back a bit while you scold him, his hand coming around to met the small of your back to help re-stabilize your footing as he lets out a small chuckle.

“Don’t be a smartass with me (Y/N). You know, most humans I know don’t have the ability to think either, and they for sure aren’t as nearly intelligent or knowledgeable as you are. If they can form an option then you can too.” He was met with your face contorting in confusion, a rare expression on your face, one he appreciated when he got the opportunity to witness it. “I want you to think, give me an original thought. Not a statistic, not a fact. Think for yourself (Y/N).” The was a pause before your lips parted.

“I… I think…”

“Thaaaat’s it…” He leaned forward, his face close to yours as he encouraged you to continue in a low whisper. “I think?”

“I think… that if I was a human, that… that I would be in love with you Miguel.”

Oh.

“(Y/N).”

“Yes Miguel?”

“Shut off.”

“Yes Miguel.”

Within a blink, you were gone. His hands came out from his pockets with a heavy sigh, before he rubbed his face and ran them through his hair, causing the semi-neatly slicked back hair to become desiveled. Glancing around the now empty living room, the small constant buzzing from your hologram now being replaced with the gentle tapping of the rain against his window.

Miguel O’Hara was truly a lonely man. A man with weaknesses and flaws despite himself, a man with feelings, and vulnerabilities and emotions. Miguel O’Hara was just a man, just a human. A human who wanted to be loved. To not be seen as some sort of emotionless being, the irony wasn’t lost on him that the only thing that seemed to really care for him, and see him in that way was something that wasn’t even programmed with actual emotions. Oh how he wished you were real, how you were human.

He couldn’t turn you into a human, but he could get close.

With a sigh he entered his home office, the only room he had restricted giving you access to appearing in. Closing the door behind him before leaning against the door, his eyes instantly finding themselves stuck on the limb on the table. An arm to be more specific, the synthetic flesh that matched your complexion wrapped around its exoskeleton. It took him almost a month to do just one arm, and although the time length of that he estimated for this project was a bit more lengthy then he’d like, if it meant getting every minuscule and minute detail perfected, he’ll take all the time in the world for it. He’d make sure it was perfect, that you’d be prefect.

—

Tags: @oscarissac2099

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #Miguel ohara x Ai reader #miguel fanfic #Miguel O’Hara #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years ago

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mayhaps i request an anomaly!reader who miguel can’t even seem to be mad at because she’s awfully sweet and becomes extremely protective of her over the months he keeps her at the spider hq? and just v fluffy in general because we need to see more of miguel’s soft side 😫😫

Not really a protective Miguel but I still hope it fulfils the soft Miguel aspect tho.

Miguel didn’t know what made you any different to the countless other anomaly he’s caught. The first time your kindness had greatly thrown him off was the moment he caught wind of a anomaly in dimension 619 but once he arrived, Miguel was confused by the lack of destruction that he was use to, the lack of chaos, the lack of panicked out their minds civilians running away; something felt wrong.

Miguel even checked in with Lyla to make sure that he wasn’t sent to wrong dimension but upon insistent confirmation -and a bit of back and forth- that he was in the right dimension as the anomaly, he wasted no time in immediately taking to the streets to hunt down this anomaly that could seemingly bypass the natural disruption their existence brings; So imagine his surprise when he found you -the supposed anomaly- enact an kindness in the form fishing a kitten out of the tree before handing them safely to the kid.

‘Here ya go.’ You said, smiling.

‘Thank you!’ The kid exclaimed happily but once their back was towards you as they made their way home, your body began, what you liked to call, glitching out of existence, your yelps becoming distorted alongside your body before the glitching ceased for the time being; That’s when Miguel decided it was time to actually do what he came here to do.

‘You’re not meant to be here. This isn’t your dimension.’ Miguel stated, thinking he was going to get a rouse out of you but all you did was smile at him, ‘isn’t that why you’re here, to contain us anomalies from causing further harm?’ You said, taking him aback with how complacent you were compared to your fellow anomalies, whom he’d have to tussle with before biting them for that extra measure. You on the other hand didn’t fuss, struggle nor fight back when he escorted you back to HQ; All of which had made Miguel all the more suspicious of your sweet kindheartedness, chalking it down to it just being a ruse, apart of some grand escape you had sitting in the back of your mind for when you could enact it perfectly when they least expected it. So Miguel made it his personal assignment to always keep an eye on you in the instance that your facade should slip ever so slightly; unfortunately for Miguel, that day never seemed to pass for your kindness seemed to know no bounds.

‘Miguel, you need sleep.’ You tell him worriedly, eyeing him as he rubbed his aching eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. It wasn’t hard for anyone to see that the man was neglecting his most basic of human needs for his personal pursuits and projects, to the point that due to his negligence his temper had became a short fuse, as Miguel himself became prone to more frequent -and in some instances violent- outbursts that had no real intended target. ‘Y/n’s right Miguel, you haven’t slept for the past few days.’ Lyla said, appearing next to you. ‘Who’s side are you on?’ Miguel snapped at the AI who merely shrugged her shoulders, he then goes to turn his gaze towards you but no bitter venomous words could escape his mouth, as though they were wedged within his throat with no signs of budging, slowly chocking out his fire for a fight; the effect you had over him had taken it’s course as Miguel felt himself rear back into a state of neutralism.

‘I don’t need sleep, I need-‘

‘Sleep.’ You butted in, uncaring of the side eye he gave you, ‘the Spider-Society isn’t going anywhere if you took a Power Nap, it’ll still be here when you wake up.’ You tried to reason with him while Lyla watched you both, intrigued as she’s never witnessed Miguel actually listening to someone making sense and no bite their head off. Lyla wasn’t oblivious to the way Miguel would watch over you as you talked to the likes of Peter B, keep Mayday entertained or going out of your way to defend and or patch up spider quartet made up of Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles when they returned from missions; You were the soft, homely warmth to Miguel’s ice cold ruthlessness, you were what he needs and he knows it but denies ever acknowledging it because to acknowledge it was to admit to himself that he was healing from the pain that made him the way that he was in the first place.

Miguel didn’t realise the breath that he’d been holding until you rested your hand upon his arm, causing his muscles to tense at first but ultimately relax upon seeing that it was just you as you smiled softly at him. Miguel wanted so badly to hate you but he couldn’t, he thought he had gone heartless ages ago but you’ve single handedly proven that wasn’t the case, he still very much had a heart but that heart wasn’t his anymore; it belonged to you. ‘Please Miguel, you’re killing yourself at this point and I don’t know what I can do to stop it.’ You whispered solely to him as your hand on his arm tightened it’s grip. Miguel finally let’s his walls down and rests his head atop of yours, his eyes closing briefly as he allows himself to be vulnerable infront of you. ‘You’re a pain in my ass you know that, making sure I don’t overwork myself, making sure I’ve got enough for eat, always checking in on me when you could be doing something else worth your time, and yet as hard as I try to find reasons as to why I wouldn’t feel the way I feel about you, the less I find myself actively finding anything to fuel a false narrative and more so in finding reasons for why I want you close.’ He chuckles for what felt like the first in a long time, he also felt like he could properly breath again.

‘Does that mean I can stay?’ You asked, dreading to be anywhere near the go home machine after having seen it in action once or twice on other anomalies such as Prowler or Vulture. ‘I thought my longwinded confession gave it away that I’m never letting you go,’ Miguel said as he cocooned you in his arms, drawing you near so your hands would be pressed against his chest, ‘so I’d suggest you get comfy because you’re not going anywhere for a long while, or just until you become sick of me.’ He adds a little softer so that only you could hear. ‘I don’t think I could ever grow sick of you Miguel.’ You admitted as you buried yourself into his chest to cope with how protected you felt within his hold, almost enough to the point you’d rather live out the rest of your life within his arms if that was possible. ‘Because beneath all that you are is a man searching for another chance and I hope to help you to get that opportunity.’

‘You already did.’ Miguel admits, ‘you are my second chance.’

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reverieblondie · 1 year ago

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hey! I wanted to request a criminal/villain!miguel x copFM!reader 🫣🤭 (Miguel is wearing his spider suit as his villain outfit)

LIKE Miguel is a criminal or villain whose hate when the cop chase him…except for reader. Who’s has been huge crush on reader and a bigger crush since the first time he stole something. but manage to stumble and fall on top of reader. Which reader was flustered and confused by the Miguel action.(for a reference for this request use megamind and the new reporter😭 but instead of using a human disguise.or miraculous ladybug☠️ 😭) and Miguel has Been in love with reader since he got save from a reader.from criminal or villain.and in Miguel eyes, reader was a good, sweet, caring person and the way she fighting the criminal and to him ….. it was sexy.and Miguel wanted was all reader attention.(and let be fr Miguel would be pervert nerd who’s follow reader social media just to see her face and fan girl about😝🤭)

so let just say he still got all he spider power and decided to move into a new apartment and when he was almost done moving…and reader was coming out of her apartment room to greet the new neighbor, and That when Miguel meet reader again.and god. when I feel like he would stutter, and say weird things, or random things to reader. As reader was looking at him with a confuse/surprise look. and Miguel knew he f$&k up so bad with his first small chat to reader who wasn’t even in work or wasn’t even saving any people.Miguel-“Dios mío … how the hell did I manage to f$&k this up … but this is perfect she my apartment neighbor” Miguel said in his mind.time skip😭😔,a few month in.and reader is having feelings towards her weird neighbor. who is just a mess. As she was telling Jessica about her crush.and Jessica is just laughing about it and saying to reader Jess-“ oh? ohh! Lorrrrd! Gurl this sound like some high-school crush all over again *chuckle*”.and reader would nudge Jessica shoulder and say “stop it…not funny” and pout about it and Jess wouldn’t stop till there caption called them into action on (the time was like 9:00 or any time would be good 😔) -#### ### #### street. and that where reader is trap with villain!Miguel.Which IN Miguel original plan he was going to have a nice chat, and want to tried find what reader like in general. in his villain side.(because he more serious about it 😭☝️idk). But some other sidekicks-villain…well not it just Layla playing a prank on them but Miguel didn’t know that. and what Layla decide to put was some fun gas🤭

Nfsw part: those fun gas was sexual drug that boosted there sexual desire for them and make them delusional or not idk☠️.(☝️😔 the same problem with all of us being delu BUT IM PROUD OF IT 🗣️) and reader was lucky enough to caught some of the gas.but Miguel. in the other hands wasn’t lucky enough and caught all the gas. after a an few minutes the gas went away.but not the effect that was going through reader body, her body was hot and the way room felt warmed and Miguel was hanging on the edge of the desk (the setting is that there in a abandoned office or building) and Miguel is busy panted, grunting, and is overall just so arousal same with reader but not that much that she lost control. Like Miguel did.

HOPE you enjoy the rest of your day and I hope you enjoy this request! Also I love your writing and i love the sailor moon theme 🫶 bye! [Fluff/smut any kink will be fine but I feel like breeding kink, or some overstimulation or some choking idk 🤷‍♀️ you can choose.but I hope you have a wonderful day 🤟]

I finally did it! I am so so sorry it took me so long to complete the request! I wanted to write my Halloween ones before the 31st, then I was hit with the craziest writers block of my life! I finally got over it last night and was about to get this out! I did change up some stuff a bit but I hope you still enjoy!

Criminal

criminal/villain!miguel x copFM!reader

Summary: Miguel hates cops, well all expect one...

Word count: 5,716

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Oral, Fingering, Cum eating, Sexy fun gas?, Breeding kink, Slight chocking, Slight Overstimulation. Miguel calls reader his 'good girl'.

The room is dark, and the sounds of whirling machines fill the space. The office-like space is filled with gadgets and an arrangement of computers, new developments in tech and torn apart failures. Then a low groan seems to light the room's holo-screens adding an orange glow to the space.

Layla appears in a flicker glowing in her yellow light “Sooo, I’m going to take a guess and assume that the plan didn’t go well?”

Another groan releases from the dark shadows of the room, and Layla rolls her eyes “Come on boss, no use sulking about it.”

From the darkness his red eyes glow first, then he emerges from the shadows, the scowl of his face being reflected from the intimating mask. “Those damn cops…I hate those damn cops…they ruin all my plans…” Miguel grumbles to the AI as he walks to the Holo screens.

Miguel O’Hara, better known as the allusive criminal mastermind, Spider-Man. Miguel had picked up the title when he received his spider-like abilities in a freak lab accident. Miguel was given a chance that people often dream about, the option to become a superhero and use his powers to protect the city he resides in.

But…

Miguel didn't ask for these powers.

Also, this was Neva York, a city filled with corruption, where, as Miguel was concerned, only the lowest of low resited. So instead of using his powers to help save the city, he used them to save himself, exclusively.

“You know Miguel that isn’t true…you don't hate all cops,” Layla says with a grin

Deactivating the mask portion of his spider suit, and scowling at Laylal he didn’t need her quips right now, with the night he'd had anything could set him off. Instead of falling for the teasing he grumbles to himself as he starts swiping away at his screens.

Miguel despises the cops, the goody two shoes always trying to ruin his plans. Having to evade them was an inconvenience and he hated being inconvenienced. Though he would never outwardly admit it, Layla had a point, he didn't hate all cops. There was one who was different, one who had snared him in their dazzling web of righteousness, you.

Miguel remembers when he first met you,

He had just gotten done stealing some new revolutionary tech from Alcamax. The cops were hot on his trail, running through the facility where he was avoiding capture. Not that those idiots could catch him. The goal was the exit to the roof so he could easily swing to freedom. Sharply turning corners and sprinting through the halls he knew he was approaching his escape.

While quickly taking a turn that would lead him to the roof access he crashed into something or more like somebody…

A sharp squeak had been your first response to him crashing into you, caging you underneath his massive form. Urging himself to get up and run he instead found himself unable to. Feeling your soft warm body pressed against him had him ignoring all basic instincts. Don’t even get him started on your face, those wide doe eyes, your sweet lips sucking in a gasp, the slight red that was blossoming on your cheeks. It was impossible not to stare.

Caught in the surprise you didn’t scream or speak at all, you just stared back with that adorable slack jaw expression. Breathing became slowly shallower as the moment lingered. So many thoughts went through his head: Tie you up? Talk to you? Take you?

Finally, the moment was interrupted by your radio going off inquiring about your position. (underneath the enemy) Quickly rising to his feet he runs for the exit door. Against his better judgment, he turns around to see if you're radioing for backup, pointing your gun at him, or chasing after him. None of that is the case as he sees you staring at him with that shocked expression still plastered to your flushed face.

Thinking back to the memory he feels his face warm slightly, he had been stuck on that moment since that night…

“Layla, open file 10-7,” he commands, layla rolls her eyes with a smirk she knows exactly what file he wants to see.

The file is opened filling the holo screen, there is a lot of information and an arrangement of pictures, and what is this information and pictures of? You of course! Scrolling more he stops on your department photo, you're all done up in your uniform showcasing that beautiful smile. Were cops even allowed to be pretty?

Since the run-in with you Miguel took it upon himself to look into you, what he found was a good-hearted caring person, you were a cop who was working for a corrupted city but your goodwill for justice was intriguing, you were one of the good ones, Miguel just couldn’t help himself with you…

“Have you been keeping an eye on her?”

“Oh? Of your little girlfriend?”

“Not my girlfriend…she's a damn cop..” a damn sexy one…

Layla drifts around looking at her AI-manicured hand, “Then I guess you don’t want to watch the video of her catching a suspect huh?”

Miguel's ears perk up, “Show me…”

“Nuh uh, magic word?”

“Now!” Miguel slams his hands on the desk, and Layla scoffs at his temper.

“Jeez, alright Mr. Pleasant, the magic word was please by the way”

Typing away at the screens Layla pulls up a video of you pursuing a thief. Miguel can’t help but get excited from seeing you in action. Never has he been attracted to anyone in uniform, but with the way your outfit hugged your curves and the way you moved, he was salivating. The suspect had turned to punch you but you quickly dodged (you must have taken some extra training from the last time he saw you). Dodging you grab the suspect's wrist twisting it into an armbar pinning them to a wall. Miguel can’t hide the excitement of watching you succeed.

“That a girl” He whispers with his eyes lighting up, fist clenched tightly, an almost smile that looks like it teases at the corners of his lips. Quick to cover his excitement with Layla floating around he clears his throat going back to his usual expression. Little does Miguel know this is nothing new for Layla, she's well aware of his little fanboy tendencies when he thinks no one's watching. -He's so obvious.

Saving the new video to the file he continues to scroll through watching videos of you, of your heroic escapades, Layla slowly drifts into his vision with a smug smile on her face, Miguel just rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“Yeah Miguel, looks like you really hate cops…”

With his criminal lifestyle it's only natural he changes locations often to avoid the cops getting close enough to figure out who he could be. Sure it was a pain in the ass to have to move apartments every couple of months but it was keeping the cops in the dark and him free to continue his black market deals.

The new apartment was nice enough, but he always made sure not to get too attached; it was temporary only. He had started to adjust to the new space, being here only three days. Unpacking, surveying the area, and avoiding neighbors. It was the same routine wherever he went, just be a ghost, unseen and unnoticed…

A knock on the door is all it took to interrupt him from his daydream of a plan. Great…A nosy neighbor, that's the last thing he needs to muck up his plan. Heading to the door in an irritated rush he swings the door open ready to reject the pryer, the scowl on his face pressed firmly, till it's replaced to one of surprise.

Miguel had to resist all urges to pinch himself, there you were, the face he had been staring at, the one he would see when he saw you on patrols, the one he would think about when those lonely nights were partially dreadful. He can’t help his eyes looking you up and down. He has only ever seen you in your uniform in person now you're dressed in your casual clothes, now to just see you in no clothes, then he could die a happy man.

Clearing your throat he instantly straightens his back, he feels his hands suddenly become clammy, has he been staring too long?

“Hello, I’m y/n, I live down the hall. I saw you moving in a few days ago and I just wanted to say welcome to the building.” your voice is like a drug, he could listen to you ramble for days about anything. But now he feels himself staring.

Shit! Quick, seem relaxed, lean against the doorway, leaning shows a chill individual that would be cool to hang out with. Miguel suddenly slumps his shoulder into the doorway in an awkward lean. The suddenness of the lean makes it look like he lost his balance and you jump a little at the action. Seeing your confused expression he tries to do something with his arms, he goes from them being straight against his sides to one being on his hip to finally settle them to being crossed against his chest. Nailed it.

“W-well I didn’t realize y-y-you were the welcome committee,” he fumbles out. Fuck! Stuttering now? Really?

Looking at your face he sees it swarming with concern “Sir are you okay?”

“yeah…just wondering why the universe hates me…” He lets out in a faint whisper

“What?”

“Nothing…my name is Miguel…”

Great, could he have fucked this up more? He's a damn criminal, he's been on top of you! Why is he acting like this? Before he can continue his inner lamenting, you let out a laugh. It's the sweetest cutest laugh he's ever had the pleasure to hear.

“You're pretty shy, huh? Miguel?”

Miguel can only smile down at your perfection, hearing your sultry voice finally saying his name. His heart feels as if it could burst at any moment “You have no idea…”

“Well you don’t need to be shy around me, I was hoping we could be friends. Give me one second!” Miguel watches as you scramble back to your apartment. Of course, he's going to remember which one was yours, but just to keep tabs on you…nothing more…

Coming back out holding a Tupperware box, you quickly hand it over to him with that adorable smile. You're too sweet…

“I baked some cookies, hope you like chocolate chip” too sweet…

“Too sweet…” he mutters

“Oh, you don’t like cookies?”

His whole body tenses, “No! I mean, I do…like cookies…I like sweets, I was just saying you're too sweet, Like these cookies…” Miguel holds up the cookies with a wide smile, can the universe just swallow him…he's acting like a damn idiot…

You let out a laugh, sure, you're laughing at him but, he can't help how his chest pangs at the sound of your sweet voice and your soft face…he's got it bad for you…

“Well, thank you, I hope you enjoy them, hope they are not too sweet for you.” He swears you winked at him, or maybe it was just him hallucinating, maybe the whole thing was a hallucination. Watching you enter your apartment you wave bye, looking down he still sees the box of treats in his hand, nope this was real. Back in his apartment he places the cookies on the counter and opens the container. The cookies are perfect, he takes one of the sugary circles and takes a bite. Dammit…It's fantastic….maybe he can stay here longer than he usually does….

“Sure, he's a bit…awkward but it's kinda sweet when he rambles plus sometimes he stutters.”

You and Jess had no new duties at the moment so you decided to tell her all about your neighbor, it had been a month or so and you were getting quite close to Miguel. A nice neighborly friendship had blossomed between you two. Was he a shy rambling mess yes, but it was oddly cute…he was cute…and something about him…every time you saw him seemed so…familiar…

“Oh man, sounds like your villain boyfriend has some competition” Jess smirks at you. Face dropping to irritation you're not amused by the teasing.

“Will I ever live that down?” you grimace.

Jess wraps her arm around your shoulder, “You're the one who let him go”

“I was in shock, It was an accident, He fell on me! And even though he was masked…I could just feel his stare on me…so intense…”

“Well let's hope we have no more intense moments with the criminal, captain was on your ass about it for weeks…”

“I know…” You rest your head down in defeat on my desk, the interaction with the ever elusive spider-man had been plaguing you for months. Nobody could let go that you had let the criminal go. It's not like it was on purpose, he had taken you by surprise…with his solid body…pressed onto yours…his burning warmth almost scorching your skin. You have to shake away the thoughts remembering to get a grip. That guy was something else…

Jess just slightly chuckles patting your shoulder to bring you back from your thoughts, “Tell me more about your high school crush on your neighbor”

You shoot her a look “It's not like that, he's just interesting and I like chatting with him in the hall.”

“Sure totally, let me ask you this, do you walk slowly to your apartment to see if he will exit to get a chance to run into him?”

Staring at her you avert your gaze feeling embarrassed she figured you out so quickly. Jess busts out in laughter “Sounds like a crush girl”

“It's not a crush!”

She smiles leaning in, mockery lacing her voice “Oh, stuck between the awkward nerd and the criminal bad boy, tsk tsk, sounds like a romantic drama.”

Opening your mouth to rebuttal your radio goes off calling you and Jess into the captain's office, this discussion will have to continue later.

Rushing into the captain's office he sits there with a very serious look on his face. “We think we finally figured out where that spider freak has been hiding. You two need to go to The Haverlands and check out the abandoned building on 5th street, report back your findings, understand?”

‘Yes sir’ you and Jess say in unison. Turning to head out caption speaks up getting your attention

“And we don't want any mishaps like last time y/n..” you nod quickly and head out on your assignment, people were never going to let that go.

“I don't understand, can't you just talk to her at the complex” Layla floats around Miguel's head as he types away at his screens seeming to be setting up for something. Miguel huffs and rolls his eyes at her comment, is she serious?

“No I can’t, every time she's near I turn into a stumbling idiot. Though she may hate me, I can talk to her directly from behind the mask.”

“So, you want to get closer to her? But the only way you can do that is by being a criminal?” Layla looks at Miguel confused “You humans make no sense..”

“Look, I want to know more and this is how I can do it seriously, I have to find out what makes her tick, what makes her want to save this waste of a city.” Miguel pauses for a moment, sure, the plan was radical and the likelihood it would blow up in his face was high. There is just something he can’t shake, you're different from the other cops, from how you act to how you looked at him that day…he just knows there's something to you. “Now did you check that she was for sure coming?”

“I hacked into the system and saw that she was on the assignment with her partner.”

“Good, we just need to get her alone, just need to set it up, don’t need anything messing this up” Miguel's stare was intense on the screen, this was important to him. It had to happen like planned no surprises.

“Don’t worry boss everything will go on without a hitch” Layla smirks as she types away on the screens. Layla was up to something….

Everything was going as planned, you and your partner had arrived as anticipated. Miguel knew that you two were here to find his hideout, but he would never actually let that happen, this was just a front house he used to meet with dealers and coordinate business from. He's far too careful to have his actual hideout compromised. Though, if a particular cop were to wander in…he would not find himself minding too much…

All he had to do now was wait as you made your way towards him. It was all going without a hitch, and he could hardly contain his excitement. Finally, you walk through the threshold of his office, the door quickly shuts and locks itself trapping you inside. Examining the room carefully you walked through trying to look for anything to show if the villain was there. Emerging from the darkness Miguel appears in his iconic spider suit. Face cover obviously.

“Well, well, if it isn't the clumsy cop?”

“Uh, you ran into me, spider boy”

“Unimportant details”

“Actually, important facts”

Before you can even process, Miguel shoots his blazing webs forward and brings him suddenly closer to you. His tall figure standing over you takes your breath away. The shocked look on your face makes him grin from under his mask, it’s your turn to be the stumbling one.

Without a second thought, Miguel is taking your gun from your holster, in case you have any ideas. Sliding the gun away he looks back at you expecting to see a look of fear, though he sees your face as fierce as ever. Such a brave girl…

“What's with the look?” he mocks in a cocky tone

“I’m not scared of you” Your eyes pierced through him, he could tell you meant business.

“Oh? Well, aren't you a brave cop?”

“I’m not brave, I just think if you were going to do something you would have.” -damn, she's not wrong.

“Why do you do this?” The sudden question catches Miguel off guard for a second.

“Do what?”

Gesturing around with your hands you look around, “this? Crime? You have abilities people can only dream about, why not use them for good?”

Miguel scoffs “Is this you trying to convert me?”

“This is me trying to figure you out so I can stop you from doing this.”

Miguel starts walking closer causing you to back up, it's not until your back is against a wall do you stop. His large arms cage you between him and the wall.

Miguel's voice comes off gruff, “Let me ask you this, why do you do what you do?”

“I want to help people”

A laugh comes out of him “In this corrupted city?”

“Not everyone is like that…plus you could help…”

“Not my job to be a hero…” he leans in closer to your face, but you don’t back down.

“But it's never too late to change your mind.”

Miguel can't help himself from placing his fingers on your jaw tilting your head up further to meet his masked eyes. “Why are you so interested in me?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

That smart mouth of yours…it's taking all his willpower not to taste you. Do you feel this passion too? This magnetism you two share? You have to…that's why you're not fighting him right?

Before Miguel can respond to you a noise catches his attention…a whining sound? Looking up he sees wall panels moving, one happens to be directly in front of his face. What?

In an instant, a white gas blasted out of the panels filling the room. From where Miguel was staring the gas had hit him directly. Stumbling back he tries to cover his face while you do the same.

“What the hell is this gas?” you whine through the haze

“I don’t know, I didn't plan this!”

“What do you mean you didn't plan this!”

“I’m saying all this is just as surprising to me as it is to you!” he coughs through the gas trying not to inhale more than he has, but it's no use.

Rolling your eyes you keep your mouth and nose covered, “unbelievable”

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!”

Miguel looks around wildly trying to figure out the cause, he goes to his desk to activate the holo computers but everything is down and not responding. Trying to urge them to work he feels a strange warmth growing in his chest, ignoring it he tries to get his bearings but that odd warmth is starting to feel like a slow burn. His abdomen is constricting in a deep knot, his hands are becoming clammy.

What is this gas? What is this reaction? His body feels like lava is rushing through him. Looking over to you he wants to see if you're having the same reaction. Seeing you his breath stops and all the hot blood rushes down to his cock with a painful throb. Your body looks to be shivering a tensing as each second passes, Your face, your body, your damn smell, everything about you in this instance is calling to his primal desires, begging to be fucked. Slamming his fist down on the table he feels his cock throb violently. He needs to get control but as the room continues to fill with gas he feels his rational mind slipping to irrational thought.

Talons scratching on the table, it's taking everything for him to keep himself together. It's not until a yellow glow catches his attention that he looks at Layla's smirking face that he begins to connect the dots to what this gas is meant for. An aphrodisiac …

“What did you do!” he growls

“Well….I figured you two needed a way to let out all your frustrated feelings, so I’m just giving you two, a little nudge.” she winks and disappears.

Of course, and what better way to get people to open up than having them drugged up with a lust mist? He needs to have a look at her program again.

The room continues to fill with the white gas and Miguel and you can’t help but cough and try to not breathe in the gas. Miguel's whole body feels like it's on fire, breathing in the gas makes his chest feel like he's inhaling shards of glass, the pain being immense. Becoming lightheaded he leans on the desk to support his body, a ringing noise clouding his ears till he hears your sweet voice.

Turning around still slumped on the desk he observes your shivering body, your hands are pressed to your chest, the pain probably also in your lungs, but the face you making…eyes hooded mouth hanging open as you stare at him, he can hear every breath you make, your mumblings sounding like sweet begging. Swallowing thickly he can’t help but feel his body tease as he watches you squirm around.

Closing his eyes he tries to calm himself but all he can think of is you and how badly he needs to feel your cool skin, and you need to feel his hot body.

The gas turns off and you and Miguel are still trapped in the room. Though the gas has stopped the damage has been done, His body feels like it's reaching a fever pitch, and you can not stop shaking and staring at the masked man hunched on the desk. Watching his rampant breathing and the way his chest falls up and down has your mind fogging.

“L-listen, we n-need to get out of here” you stutter out as you carefully approach him.

Before you can even make it a few inches closer he's already on you, hand pressed to your throat. The feel of his burning heat on your cold skin has you whimpering a moan you can’t hold in. This is insane, he's a villain, you don't want this, but you do, you're desperate for more. The arousal is dripping from your cunt, it aches, and it yearns to be touched by him. Those lonely nights…thinking of his body rutting into you…your secret desires coming to fruition.

The bottom of his mask disappears and he quickly kisses you in a burning passion, slipping his tongue in to get a taste of you. He softly lowers the two of you to the floor. The cool of your hands has him groaning from your touch, he needs to feel more, he needs you to cool his body. Equally as desperate for his touch you spread your legs for him to settle between, feeling him rub his hard length against your clothed cunt and he ruts into you against the floor.

The gas has stopped now, and you're well aware of how crazy this all is, but the tightening around your throat, the teasing against your sex, and how his searing kiss was spreading warmth throughout your whole body, you couldn't help but succumb to the gas lusting your mind.

Miguel is completely lost in his desires, getting sprayed directly in the face has only made his lust worse. His plus lips move away from your soft lips, a string of saliva keeping you two connected. Looking down at you he sees your pleading eyes, the gas has affected you both but he's still buckling into you like an animal.

“I need you y/n, I can’t hold myself back, so please…let me take you or shoot me…”

The desperation in his voice has your skin tingling, you understand his words but you're equally desperate, all you can do is run your trembling hands down his tight chest to his perfect abdomen. Your voice is a trembling whisper honeyed with desire, his heightened senses ring it through his ears. “Take me…”

With that his suit is dissipating revealing his bronzed sculpted body to you, keeping the mask halfway on his face, of course… The clothes clad on your pricking skin are slowly shed and his warm lips trail over your cold skin. Both desperately hungry for each other the undressing is slow and controlled, building the tension for each other to a new high. Lifting your hips you aid him in shedding your pants, his massive hands hook into your panties, you can’t help your hips buckling as he peels the ruined panties from your slick sex.

Warm hands squeeze your ass while his lips caress your hip bones. All you can do is whimper as he trails down to your sex. Not being shy, he presses his nose to your swollen clit taking in the scent of your desperate arousal, he swears he could burst from the sweet smell alone but a taste is what he's been craving for all these months. Not wanting to waste another second he licks the slick from your puffy folds, teasing around your tight slit relishing is how you whine and push closer to his face as he does. Before plunging the muscles inside he wraps his lips around your clit licking and sucking softly.

Hands gripping your ass tighter he pulls you closer to his face, releasing your clit he plunges into your quivering slit, constricting around his muscle as he gets drunk on your essence. Maybe it's from the gas or maybe it's how he keeps expertly eating you out you're quickly coming on his face, letting the release out with a silent scream. Eagering licking up your sweet release he can't help but groan into you. The vibration makes your body shake with the slight overstimulation. But it's intoxicating.

“That's my good girl, fuck, you taste sweeter than those cookies…” Now maybe you're still too blissed out on your orgasm, but you swear you heard him say that with his two fingers now spreading you open, you can’t be too sure you could hear anything past his cooing and your shameful moans.

Miguel could care less if you heard what he said or not. All he can focus on is stretching your tight cunt enough for him to get inside, he wants you desperately but he wants you to enjoy it with no pain. He wants to take care of his good girl.

“Play with yourself,” He commands as he pumps his throbbing cock, using the dribbling precum to lubricate down to the shaft. Being the good girl you are you quickly spread your folds open and run your clit letting him watch your pulsating entrance.

Lining up he slapped his fat tip against your cunt biting his lip as you tease and jumped at each teasing smack, overstimulating you further, “Fuck, you want me to stretch you out mi buena niña?”

All you can do is nod fanatically whimpering out soft yeses, “Such a good girl, I’ll make sure to really fill you up”

Your eyes go wide as he smirks stocking his thick length before brushing away your hands to line up to your slit. The thick tip nudges into your glistening hole, feeling him push through your clenching cunt you can’t help but arch from the stretch and how it's warming your whole body instantly.

Pushing into you inch by inch he feels the burning in his body slowly dissipating as he continues his friction in you. Leaning down he peppers kisses along your collarbone going up to your neck, nipping and kissing his way to your ear.

“Ah, you feel fucking perfect for me, do you know how long I’ve wanted you? And now you're mine”

Thrusting deeper, you can't help but wrap your legs around him and hold tightly to his shoulders as he bullies deeper into your clenching cunt. Feeling your sticky lubricant drip down from his cock to your ass with each in and out of his cock.. Never have you felt so full and never has he felt someone quiver so tightly drenching his cock. you're sloppy wet for him and all you can think about is his hot cum painting your strained walls. Your body is begging for him to breed you, to fill you up as his. Maybe this is less the gas now and more your own desires.

“You clenching so tight guapa, it's like you want me to breed you”

His words have you looking at him with hooded eyes nodding breathlessly, oh? Miguel starts thrusting harder into you, speeding up his thrust rolling into you deeper, hitting your sweet spot making you choke out a moan as stars pluck at your vision.

“Is that what you want? Tell me, beg me for it.”

His tip thrusting against your cervix now has your pussy clenching down on his cock, you can’t help but hold on to him tighter, digging your nails into his skin as you get fucked dumb, screaming out your response.

“Yes! Pl-Please! Fill me up! I want to be so full!” if you were in your right mind you would have died from embarrassment. But Miguel absolutely loves your desperate pleas.

Your body is starting to feel warm, the cold shivers being chased away by Miguel's cock bullying into your cervix harder than before. Miguel feels his fever coming down at his new pace, he watches as his cock sheathes in and out of your swollen cunt, and a white ring forms around the base of his cock, feeling your clench tighter he’s determined to fuck you through your organism and fill you up till its spilling out.

Like a crashing wave, your orgasm hits you, causing you to cum on the masked criminal. The organism has your body feeling fuzzy and blissed out, screaming in pleasure like an unashamed whore. Miguel's rutting finally stills as he feels his thick cum releasing into your gummy walls, he can stop himself from fucking the cum deeper into you, a primal part of him hopping it takes to claim you as his permanently.

Finally feeling his burning heat disappear while you finally feel warm no longer shivering, you two stay in place, panting at each other for a moment slowly coming down from your highs and back to your senses. Finally pulling out Miguel watches as his seed spills from you, he has to restrain himself from wanting to push it back into you with his fingers. To his surprise, however, your hand reaches down to do the action for him.

Miguel watches in awe as his good girl tries to keep herself full, overstimulating your abused cunt in the process as you shove the cum back into your puffy cunt. He's going to keep this etched in his memory forever. Leaning over you he gently takes your hand away. Bring your ruined fingers to his lips, he licks your fingers clean, then leans down to kiss your lips parting your mouth to slip the sweet and salty taste to your tongue.

His suit quickly recovers him and he gathers your clothes and hands them to your bare form. “Get dressed, quickly” Leaning down he pressed a finger to your lips “And keep this a secret my good girl.”

The blush on your face can’t be helped as he instructs you with subtle praise. As you're getting dressed, Miguel finally gets the room back in working order, opening the doors so he can escape. Before he leaves he looks back to you. There is so much he wants to say but everything is catching in his throat, it feels just like when he sees you in the halls.

“M-maybe, I could be good…for you” With that, he quickly exits through an open door.

Taken aback by the confession all you can focus on is the voice, the slight stutter and how familiar it was…

Finally dressed you make your way to find Jess, The encounter deliciously replaying in your mind. The parts you keep replaying on a loop? His voice, maybe it's time you do some digging to make some connections….It will have to be your secret though…

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