#mega tube | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pixelchills · 1 year

Text

"A Not so Sunny World" Character Info Cards

Very long post!

This post contains all the essential information about our Main Characters, their personalities and relationships with each other!

Main characters from the tallest to the shortest!

~Information~

Sunrise "Sun"

Occupation: Daycare Attendant, Superstar Daycare Jester

Level, species: Level 3, Celestial Alien

Day of awakening: September 30th, 2037

Assigned gender, pronouns: Male, he/him

Height: 6’3” or 190cm (no rays included)

Sexuality: Demisexual

Personality and relationships:

Sunrise is a sweet and kind Animutant with a golden heart. He wants to believe the best in everybody, and loves meeting new people. He is curious, yet innocent, sometimes even a bit naïve. He has bad anxiety and tends to be a people pleaser. He gets scared and nervous easily, especially in new situations. He is a terrible liar.

Sunrise feels his emotions with a full heart, sometimes draining himself with it. He is often described by the Daycare workers as dramatic, annoying and a bit over the top – but it’s just because he feels every feeling, positive or negative, to a great extent. He often needs assurance and help from others, because he was created to be more obedient and dependent on others than his precursor, Solar.

Sunrise likes crafting and creative activities and dislikes rule-breaking. He wants to be seen as a good worker and caretaker – but he loves when someone takes care of him too. Sunrise loves being praised, but has no sense of direction; he gets lost very easily. He doesn’t stand cold very well. Sunrise is the youngest Animutant working at the Mega Pizzaplex.

Sunrise is Moondrop’s boyfriend. They’re best friends, laboratory sweethearts, and absolutely inseparable. Sunrise fell in love with Moondrop at first sight on his first day out of the incubator tube. They’re deeply in love and cannot stand being away from each other for too long. Sunrise wants to always know what Moon is up to, and he never gets tired of spending time with his boyfriend.

Sunrise is friends with the other Animutants in the Mega Pizzaplex. He gets along best with Chica, who wants to always make sure he is comfortable and included in the activities they’re doing, sometimes even a bit too much. He doesn’t always get along with Roxanne, who tends to bully or mock him, and he has a hard time understanding Foxy’s sarcastic humour.

But overall, he gets along with everyone to some extent, and his slightly innocent nature is adored by the older mutants. (Even Monty gets along with Sun after Bonnie’s incident brought them accidentally a bit closer.)

Sunrise has difficulties socialising with the others sometimes, because he was left alone in the Daycare without any Animutant company for 9 years after his awakening, which caused him to under-develop social skills normal for other Animutants. He looks up to the others like his superheroes.

Sunrise obeys humans usually without a question. He is afraid of the small devices the authorities will use for misbehaving or disobeying Animutants.

Moondrop "Moon"

Occupation: Daycare Attendant, Superstar Daycare Jester, Night Security

Level, species: Level 3, Celestial Alien

Day of awakening: September 21st, 2037

Assigned gender, pronouns: Male, he/him

Height: 6’4” or 193cm

Sexuality: Omnisexual

Personality and relationships:

Moondrop is serious and observing Animutant, but that’s mostly just the cool demeanour he gives to the others. Deep down he is sensitive and humorous, and wants to always make sure everyone around him is safe and happy. He has some scars from his past he is still trying to heal, and his self-image is not the best, resulting in him often doubting his actions and trying to keep it to himself. He is strong and independent and doesn’t really like anyone else but Sunrise, stating that his heart is small and tightly sealed; and there’s only enough room for Sun.

Moondrop is seen as a quiet and soft-spoken attendant in the Daycare. He doesn’t speak much with the human workers, and some of them find him a bit intimidating. Moon lost the regular sight in his left eye in a fight with El Chip and covers the eye with a star-shaped eyepatch when working with children to not scare them with his night vision.

Moondrop loves lazing around during his free time, reading books, and watching horror movies; he doesn’t like to feel or be seen as submissive and vulnerable, and his past with El Chip is something that haunts him even to the present day. It’s also the reason why he hates Mexican food and the smell of cigarettes; El Chip also caused Moon to develop a slight fear of people wearing sombreros.

Moondrop is Sunrise’s boyfriend. The two lovebirds are inseparable. Moondrop doesn’t show his funny and overly sweet self to anyone else but Sunrise. Sun is also the only one who Moon is willing to show his vulnerabilities, as well as his true, sensitive self. Sunrise has helped Moon slowly heal from many hardships in his past. Moondrop is overprotective of his boyfriend and likes spoiling him with attention and small trinkets and things he sometimes picks up during his nightly patrols. Moondrop adores Sunrise more than anything.

Moondrop doesn’t really consider the other Animutants in the Mega Pizzaplex his ‘friends’. He has trust issues and argues that he ‘doesn’t need’ anyone else but Sunrise. Truthfully, he gets well along with Bonnie and has slowly become more comfortable with his previous co-workers as well, Roxanne and Monty.

Roxy and Moon bonded over their like of horror movies, and Roxy and Chica helped Moon out when he started his periods; Moon’s body had developed ovaries due to a hormonal change. Moon and Monty used to be at each other’s throats, but after Monty and Sun got closer, they try to act civil with each other.

Moon shows his humorous side to the others after a while with his silly tricks and pranks; unharmful little jokes he and Sunrise put up for the others after they started feeling a bit more comfortable in the group.

Moondrop tends to talk back and threaten the humans if he doesn’t agree with them. He is not afraid to lie his way out of trouble to protect himself or the others. He gets punished but isn’t afraid of the small device nearly as much as Sunrise. Moondrop is good friends with the Head Nightguard Vanessa, who saved his life back in the previous location.

Freddy Fazbear

Occupation: Franchise Mascot, Band’s main Singer

Level, species: Level 3, Brown Bear

Approx. Day of awakening: February 2025

Assigned gender, pronouns: Male, he/him

Height: 6’11” or 210cm (no ears included)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Personality and relationships:

Freddy is a polite and understanding mascot of the franchise. Despite his position as the head of the band and as the face of the Fazbear co. Freddy is kind and tries to get along with everyone. His soft and somewhat calm demeanour is adored by the children and some of the workers, his energy often seen as close to a parental.

Freddy is a sticker for rules and company policies, often reminding the other Animutants in the plex about them. He likes spending time with the others and helping them out with their free time projects or activities. He has more responsibilities than the others as the franchise mascot, but he is often given more free passes and goodies in return.

Freddy gets along well with everyone. His politeness and calmness are sometimes seen as him keeping his distance, but it’s just the way he was designed. He knows how to take the role of the leader when needed and is often the middle ground in disagreements between the other mutants. He is best friends with Bonnie but is still somewhat distant from the Daycare Attendants.

Freddy sticks to the rules strictly, but it is unsure how he is handled at the management levels. He respects his position as being something less than a human, but never boasts about his position as the main star.

Bonnie the Bunny

Occupation: Band’s ex-bassist, Bonnie Bowl Mascot

Level, species: Level 3, Purple Rabbit

Approx. Day of awakening: March 2025

Assigned gender, pronouns: Male, he/him

Height: 7’2” or 218cm (no ears included)

Sexuality: Gay

Personality and relationships:

Bonnie is an outgoing and generous tall bunny. He gets along with everyone from a kid to an elder, from Animutant to a human. Everyone likes him, he radiates very warm and humorous energy. He is almost like an older brother to the other Animutants in the Plex.

Bonnie likes sports and action, and he is ready to help and take care of others when needed, but also ready to party and go wild if necessary. He is very easy-going and supportive. Bonnie lost his right arm in an accident in Monty Golf, but because he was so liked by the people in the Mega Plex, they decided to give him a prosthetic arm instead of decommissioning him. He gave his spot in the band to Monty and works now in his attraction Bonnie Bowl as its full-time mascot.

Bonnie has a good sense of humour and is often able to cheer everyone up even in the darkest situations. Sometimes he forgets to take care of his own needs or feelings though, but tries to keep a bright and brave mind.

Bonnie is best friends with Freddy and Monty, often helping the former with the decision-making and stuff that comes from the higher-ups. Bonnie seems to be the only one able to handle Monty easily. He is good with the girls, and even Moon, who doesn’t seem to really ‘befriend’ anyone, doesn’t have anything bad to say about the purple bunny. Bonnie and Foxy bicker back and forth constantly, rivalling in the field of humour by teasing each other.

Bonnie is very liked by the human staff, as his helpful nature is often appreciated with his size and strength. He helps with physical work, but also by being a good friend to many. This quality saved him from being ‘put down’ after he lost his arm.

Chica the Chicken

Occupation: Band’s guitarist & back-up singer, Mazercize and Cupcake World Mascot

Level, species: Level 3, White Chicken

Approx. Day of awakening: June 2025

Assigned gender, pronouns: Female, she/her

Height: 5’11” or 180cm

Sexuality: Pansexual

Personality and relationships:

Chica is a cheerful and energetic Animutant. She is known in the plex as the ultimate extrovert; always ready to join and meet new people and hang out with someone. She talks and laughs a lot and has a very bubbly and happy nature. She the shortest Animutant of the group. Her favourite colour is pink.

Chica loves make-up and dates that include food or dancing. She is a flexible party girl, who sometimes gets herself into trouble just by being a bit too careless. She doesn’t seem to fear almost anything, but is very sensitive to fights between her friends and wishes everyone to get along and have a good time. She loves pizza and ice cream.

Chica is Roxy’s girlfriend. She shares a very special relationship with Roxy, the wolf being the first female mutant she has ever worked with, quickly making the two fall for each other more deeply. Chica adores her cool girlfriend and pokes her with teasy jokes and comments all the time, knowing that Roxy won’t get mad at her no matter what.

Since Chica was previously the only girl in the old location, she has all the male mutants around her pinkie quite tightly. She is small, but made from pure pepper if someone angers her (which doesn’t really happen). Most of the time, she handles her role as the Princess/Queen Bee of the Pizzaplex quite well, and is liked by everyone.

She is sweet to her friends, and has taken Sunrise under her wing almost like an older sister, making sure he and Moondrop are always comfortable in the group hangouts after the first couple of catastrophes that occurred.

Chica learns a lot of gossip from the human staff and knows a lot of secrets about almost everyone working in the plex. She accepts her place as an Animutant, but tries to make the most out of it by enjoying her life to the fullest.

"Captain" Foxy the Pirate Fox

Occupation: Pirate’s Cove and Superstar Theater Mascot

Level, species: Level 3, Red Fox

Approx. Day of awakening: January 2025

Assigned gender, pronouns: Male, he/him

Height: 6’7” or 200cm (no ears included)

Sexuality: Aroace

Personality and relationships:

Foxy is a sarcastic and somewhat cynical Animutant, who takes his role as a pirate very seriously. He speaks with a pirate accent and prefers the others to call him ‘Captain’. Foxy is the oldest Animutant working at the Mega Pizzaplex, and often reminds the others about it by calling himself ‘an old fart’ or reminding them of the time of ‘his old days’ (he woke up one month before Freddy…).

Foxy is good at fixing things with different mechanics on them, screwdrivers and wrenches are not unfamiliar parts of his hook, which replaces his right hand. Foxy’s left eye has been covered by an eyepatch, but it has caused him to develop a lazy eye. He likes sugary drinks and adventure stories.

Foxy is the only one of the Level 3 Animutants (besides the Daycare Attendants) who has never been part of the main band, but held on to his own side location. However, he is often considered to be part of the main four due to the previous location having the Pirate Cove Stage right next to the Main Stage. Foxy is aromantic and has absolutely no clue about romance.

Foxy gets along somewhat well with everyone else. He is sort of a lone wolf of sorts, he kind of knows everyone and hangs around, but he still holds a somewhat weirdly mysterious aura around him. He and Bonnie bicker with each other constantly, but they do it on good friend terms. Foxy respects Freddy as the leader greatly, and is ready to do everything he’d just ask him to. Sometimes the others don’t get his sarcasm and jokes, but it has never stopped him from continuing to tell them.

Foxy is on somewhat neutral terms with the human staff. He calls them ‘pesky crewmates’ but most likely obeys their rules with a roll of an eye and pirate swearwords muttered under his breath.

Montgomery "Monty" Gator

Occupation: Band’s new bassist, Monty’s Gator Golf Mascot

Level, species: Level 3, Alligator

Approx. Day of awakening: April 2030

Assigned gender, pronouns: Male, he/him

Height: 6’8” or 204cm (no mohawk included)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Personality and relationships:

Monty is confident and strong Animutant who tends to fall into jealousy and be reckless. He doesn’t particularly like following rules and has somewhat of a big ego. He doesn’t really care if he gets himself into trouble, and often lets his inner issues and anger out in bursts of physical violence by breaking things in his room or beating up the lower sentience STAFF mutants. Monty doesn’t like to be told what to do, but wants to be seen as a cool and tough idol. His violent anger issues are caused by his past at El Chip’s.

Most of the time Monty seems quiet and almost cold to those who don’t know him, but he actually has a playful and tender side too, even though he won’t admit it. Monty is multitalented and can play almost any instrument given to him. He was originally only filling in or playing drums in the band occasionally, before he replaced Bonnie as the bass player. He likes working out with dumbbells and enjoys showing off his muscles by wearing tank tops.

Monty seems a bit indifferent towards the other Animutants in the plex at first. He is somewhat jealous of Freddy’s fame and position as the head of the band, and often thinks the bear is too nice and soft to be considered a leader. Monty gets along the best with Bonnie, who is the only one that can handle him. Monty seems to also have a soft spot for Sunrise for some reason. He doesn’t really get along with Moondrop, but the two are civil with each other. Monty and Roxy tend to fight like siblings.

Monty doesn’t really care about the human staff and his handlers/assistant jobs are constantly being re-filled. He is probably the most punished mutant in the plex, but it doesn’t seem to stop him from causing a mess on purpose just to annoy the workers.

Roxanne "Roxy" Wolf

Occupation: Band's keytarist, Roxy Raceway Mascot

Level, species: Level 3, Grey Wolf

Approx. Day of awakening: October 2029

Assigned gender, pronouns: Female, she/her

Height: 6’1” or 186cm (no ears included)

Sexuality: Lesbian

Personality and relationships:

Roxanne is a quirky and brave Animutant. She is often described as beautiful, gorgeous, or sexy by workers and other Animutants, and she loves her appearance or skills getting complimented. She appears to others as tough, self-centred, and sometimes even mean, but deep down she is just very insecure about herself due to her past in El Chip’s. She has a soft, almost parental side to her, but it often gets run over by her competitive nature and self-image problems.

Much like Moondrop, Roxanne doesn’t like talking about her problems to others, only to those really close to her. She loves make-up and her hair is her biggest pride. She likes horror movies and competitive games but gets moody and emotional easily. She doesn’t really get scared and carries the title of the “cool emo mutant” of the group.

Roxanne is Chica’s girlfriend. She gets along just fine with the others, but prefers to hang out with Chica or Freddy, often just fishing compliments from the latter. She doesn’t really get that well along with the Daycare Attendants and tends to think about them as less than the rest because they ‘change diapers’ as their job. Obviously just ignorance on her part but she sees Sunrise as childish and annoying, who takes her too seriously. But she has worked up her relationship with Moondrop to a somewhat good level despite their past issues. Roxy and Monty also bicker back and forth similarly to Bonnie and Foxy.

Roxy treats the human workers like her besties. She talks back at them if they nag at her, and will become over dramatic if she is ever even considered to be punished. She has a collection of phone numbers from multiple human male workers from the plex, even though she doesn’t own a phone.

1K notes · View notes

missblissy · 2 months

Note

Vox x reader but its fluufffy as shit- like im talking hurt/comfort like full on motherfucker is down so infamously bad

((Ofc Nonny UwU Vox is a guilty pleasure of mine, so this was fun to write. Again.... IM STILL A LIL RUSTY SO IM SORRY IF IT'S NO EXACTLY WHAT YOU HAD IN MIND QWQ... But! As always, Enjoy!))

Little taps traveled down the lush golden halls, with a tiny fury in each step. Sparks and zaps and zips twisted from the broken wires popping out of your skin. The arm you clutched tightly let out fizzes and glitches and your broken hand moved on its own.

You found an elevator and slapped the buttons with your good hand then stared at the spycam in the corner, “Vox!” You whined, “Let me in!” Your high pitched cry was more of an annoying beg but still… It worked. The elevator’s door dinged and shut before lowering down into the catacombs of the mega tower.

At first some silly stupid song played in the elevator before a familiar voice came over the speakers, “What did you do now?” It was Vox. You raised a brow, a pointed and angry pout as you took a side glance at the spycam. Shameless guilt was on your face, as you caved and confessed, “It wasn’t my fault! I was just trying to get today’s filming done and that-” You stopped yourself and took a breath before you got worked up again, “Anyways,” You held up the broken arm and hand, “I need a tune up, and you know I won’t let the tech boys touch me,”

The elevator slowly lost its walls and you were standing alone on a moving platform lowering itself to a bridge. You didn’t even wait for it to reach the ground or stop, you jumped halfway down and started skipping along the bridge. With a new tune in your step, happy to have gotten your way, you gave a cheerful wave to the tanks full of sharks while heading towards Vox’s lair.

You first checked his room full of tv monitors and spy cams, he wasn’t in his Little Throne as he put it. So you made your way to his workshop. He was already there sorting through replacement arms for you. With your good arm you looped it with his and gave him a playful nudge, “Thank you, Voxxy~!” You hummed out, putting on extra layers of cuteness knowing he’d be annoyed with you already for interrupting his work.

“Mhmm,” Vox hummed, then reached for a robotic arm. You quickly pushed his hand away from that one, “Not that model,” You told him, “Remember? It’s got that bug that makes the nervous system fail,” He just nodded his head and reached for another arm while gesturing for you to sit down. You did just that, sitting on the workbench with your feet swinging back and forth off the edge.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” Vox asked while keeping his eyes focused on the task at hand. He took your broken arm and first looked over the damage, then the hand as well. His eyes flicked up to yours as he added, “Or do I need to check the surveillance system?” His hands lightly grabbed you by the crook of your arm, bending it by the elbow to find the hidden port under your skin. He pressed nothing, just skin, but soon it lit up in the shape of a little heart.

You looked away with a pout, maybe the cute act wasn’t going to help. You huffed and rolled your eyes, “She started it!” You yelped, “I was doing the scene for this month’s show perfectly, as always, and the stupid bitch couldn’t deliver her lines right!” All while you ranted, Vox managed to run his finger along your arm and unlock the skin shell, uncovering the wires, blots, tubes and bars that made up your insides.

A heavy gulp came from your throat, and your irritation slowly melted to an uncomfortable uneasiness. It was still so strange to you to be nearly fully made of bits and parts. So was Vox…. but still… It wasn’t a familiar concept to you quite yet. On the outside you looked completely the same as you’d always had in your afterlife. Selling your soul to the overlord was the biggest decision you’ve ever made. Surely one day you’d live to regret it, but so early on into the contract you hadn’t found any solid reason to regret a single choice you’ve made with Vox thus far.

He treated you so much better than Valentino did to Angel Dust. in fact Vox tried his best to keep you as far from them as possible. You were uniquely his. Literally, he made you. Bought your soul, tore it from its flesh and welded it to new metals. And you’d be lying entirely if you said you didn’t feel something for Vox. It was the biggest reason for being his, you felt some type of way and he liked to stroke that ego and play along with it.

Vox gave you a smug look however, with gentle hands he removed the arm entirely, “And who threw the first punch?” He asked. Which was a very good question, because you definitely did. Called out and put on the spot, your cheeks started to burn different shades of pink and red, “You’re still a prototype,” Vox hummed. From what you could feel, it was nice. The way his cool finger tips tentatively work at the seams of your sinews. He clearly was putting care into each and every work on your wiring, “You aren’t yet strong enough to take on a co-star, much less anyone, in a fight,” He said.

He had never been cruel with you, or even mean. Vox could be stern, like now, lecturing you to do better, be better. But his touch was always soft and careful. Like you were his greatest work of art, his favorite thing to work on, and his beloved precious project. And sure, he liked the person you were too. It was just a bonus that you could make him laugh, or get him to stop faking his smiles for real ones.

It didn’t help how often he kept you at his side. Filming was really the only time you were away from Vox, otherwise, you were always near, always in sight, and never too far from reach. Vox preferred it that way, and, honestly… so did you. So it was a welcoming and familiar touch, his hands tinkering away, checking you over as to look for any other damage.

Sheepishly you laughed and said, “Well, at least I only walked away with a broken arm,” And Vox chuckled along with you. The girl you fought couldn’t say as much. You nearly tore her in two… She was just so… annoying! And you got so sick of doing the same scene over and over and over…. “I taught her a thing or two about real tears, that’s for sure,” Your snotted little huff and pout was back, though luckily Vox seemed to enjoy it, “She had it coming, and I basically won if there was even a competition anyways,”

He even agreed and said, “I’m sure you held your own, I don’t doubt you can’t kick some ass,” He then attached the new arm and started flicking and switching things on from within your hardware, “But I can’t have my little super star starting fights, or getting into them, or risk damaging the goods,” He smirked as he looked over his work with pride. Finally he snuck in a kiss and you felt all your rage melt away. First there was one on your cheek, then Vox gave you a quick but deep kiss before pulling away.

Vox then grabbed a new skin shell and snapped it in place, slowly feeling returned. The chill of his hands running down your arm, clearing off all the dust and fuzz, sent little buzzing sparks down the newly awakened skin, “It’s not good for our image either,” Vox added with a smirk and raised brow, “You’re my little super star, hell��s new sweetheart that everyone can’t get enough of,” He then fixed your hair, tuffing it back in place, curling it around your ear, “We can’t have leaks of you beating your co-star into a pulp getting out,” He rolled the sleeve of your shit back down, smoothed it out, and stole another kiss.

You could feel your arm again and life buzzed into the metal, until it heated up and felt all the same as any natural or organic creatures. As much as you like the coddling in his words, you tried out your wrist and looked at your nails, asking, “What am I, if I’m just your little super star? Are you trying to make your own fizz bot? A Vox bot? Whatever you call it, just some way to steal Mammon’s power?”

Vox smirked and pinched your cheek with his fingers and gave a little shake, cooing at you while saying, “To some degree, yes. A bigger, better, smarter one that runs off a human soul,” You pushed his hand away but he just grabbed your hand instead, pulled you off the table, to your feet, and gave you a little spin, “But for now, you’re just my favorite little toy, right?”

A little yelp jumped from your lips as he spun you around, then caught you with one hand. You could not lie, the way this man spoiled you had you hooked, line and caught. He made it so easy for the both of you to forget what goes on outside this workshop of his. He made it easy to forget he owned you…. He made you what you are now.

Or perhaps that part of the deal you like. Who knows. It was unexplainable your attraction to him and you honestly didn’t mind being his pet, his distraction, his stowaway. Whatever one may call it, you were sucked in by his every word and move… every single time. Besides, you could pride yourself on being the one that cheered him up, that made him happy, especially when Valentino upset him. You were the one that Vox poured hours of his time into, who he tediously worked to improve. You were his favorite distraction.

He moved you about in a silly little mock dance, an equally silly tune playing from him, “And for now, your job is to just stay pretty, talented, flawless, and overall perfect just as you are,” His wooing words melted your metal heart. He slowed, holding your hands in his while he then gave a smile, a raised brow, and asked in a way that wasn’t really asking, but rather telling, “So no more fights, and ruining all my hard work, right?”

You blinked up at him, still slightly flustered from the mini dance, and even more so that he held you so close to him, “R-right,” You breathed then gave a small smile yourself. It was a strange relationship the two of you had, it clearly wasn’t something outsiders would understand. He peppered kisses along your new arm and trailed them up your shoulder, leaving a few on your cheek as you giggled out.

He gave you a twirl then spun you off, “Now get back to work,” Vox’s grin stayed full on his face while you got your footing again. With a huff, you crossed your arms and gave a pointed look, teasing him obviously and putting on a bratty act, “I don’t need anymore distractions until about…” He paused and looked at his watch, “Five thirty?”

Your foot tapped a few times and you shifted weight from one leg to the other, hip out in a sassy look, “I’m not a distraction,” You pouted, then rolled your eyes with a grin to match his, “Six thirty,” You challenged him, seeing if he could push off the time and actually commit to his work, “I should be done filming by then anyways,”

“Fine,” Vox shrugged, seemingly unbothered by your teasing, “Six thirty,” He echoed. Vox then blew a little kiss to you, with spark and zap it zipped across the air in the shape of a little heart. The sweet sting of its electric shock warmed your cheek and let out a little snap on contact. You giggled and let your arms fall, a more cheeky look on your face and less of a pout as you spun on your heel and skipped back off to work.

#the queue tag!!#hazbin hotel #hazbin #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox x you #reader inserts

114 notes · View notes

cassieoz · 7 months

Text

Emergency

Erica wailed in total agony as she was rushed into the extreme birthing unit. The pounding pressure between her thighs was constant and excruciating. Her suffering had been heard as she was wheeled down the long corridor between the labor suite and the delivery room. The pain was blinding! Erica couldn't stop crying from the severity of the rapid labor.

"Contractions less than a minute apart, Doctors. Head rapidly crowning. Contraction intensity is 90 and still increasing. Abnormally large fetus. Ultrasound indicated at least 22 pounds."

Erica was trembling as medical staff attached monitor pads and injected her with several syringes as the brutality of her birthing ordeal continued to rage through her laboring ordeal. IV tubes pumped fluids and drugs into her system as doctors and nurses adjusted their white masks and pulled on long white surgical gloves. The room was chaotic with members of staff dressed in dark green scrubs prepared to deliver her humongous infant.

"Contraction intensity is still rising, Doctors! 95 on the main vital monitor. Extreme pressure! The head is measuring much larger than in the labor room. Fetal weight registering at 25 pounds."

"Oh God, get it out of me! I can't take the pain. It's far too big! I can't push this baby out naturally. Oh the pain! Please make it stop!"

Erica thrashed wildly against the birthing table as the need to push completely controlled her. Despite her protests, she began to bear down on the crowning head. The stretching was incredible. The fire storm was nothing she had ever experienced before in her life. She pushed and howled out at the top of her lungs.

"Contraction intensity has reached the extreme range. 100 and over! This is the biggest head ever. The director will be impressed. Page him so he can be present!"

Within minutes, a tall dark green figure entered the delivery room and hurried to the end of the birthing table.

"Sir, the head is humongous. The baby is the biggest ever. The size of the fetus is causing extreme contractions. The patient is pushing with the endless conteactions!"

Erica roared and bore down as the tremendously large crown pressed her wider and wider. She shook as her hands went cold. Her body was damp. Her mind spun. She lost all sense of time. Her whole world became consumed by the raging contractions exploding between at her swelling opening.

The director smiled behind his mask as he watched the birther fought with all her strength to push the super large head free of her red, swollen entrance.

His program had finally produced the biggest baby ever. The birth went onto record the most extreme contractions ever in the maternity hospital. After hours of strenuous pushing, Erica delivered a 25 pound healthy baby. Completely exhausted but surprisingly still strong, she was transferred to recovery.

Later that day, the director sat in his office and watched the final stages of pushing over and over again on his laptop.

Erica was shaking wildly, covered on a thick layer of sweat, hair soaked and was endlessly screaming as the head erupted with full force from her pregnant frame.

This birther would be asked to continue her contact. Her successful delivery ensured her future service in the program. The director would secure her services as soon as possible. This was the beginning of many future mega births!

#giving birth #labor and delivery

228 notes · View notes

silverzoomies · 1 year

Text

Honeysuckle

peter Maximoff x reader smut

chapter 1: sugar blues

warnings: female reader (sorry), sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, overstimulation, shameless smut, rough sex, kissing, porn with (slight) plot, canon divergence

word count: 4466

a/n: hiii !! this is my first fic posted to trunglr !! i've diverged from canon a lot here. timeline is modern day. remember deadpool 2? and the x men cameos? just ignore the fact that everyone would be old af now. pretend they're not old. also, even though he doesn't show up; it's the kelsey grammer beast btw. because i'm based. tyvm

chapter 2 here.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Peter really didn’t mean to be such a menace.

Like, pffbbt…this was totally the most accidental instance of the classic phrase: Wrong place, wrong time. Outside of Hank’s lab, Peter noticed something he hadn’t seen the day prior. A faint light, emitting a firefly-like glow. Curiously snooping, as one naturally does, he peeked through the window of the lab door. Only to find…no one was there.

Peter checked the digital watch on his wrist. A Garfield watch. Totally sweet.

Hm.

Hank’s lab was usually occupato on late Friday evenings like today. He should’ve been inside, poking around with some newfangled gadget. Or conjuring up some gnarly formula. But, upon further inspection? The lab was entirely absent of any big, beastly scientists. Not a hint of blue fur to be found.

Maybe he took a break?

Nah. If there was one thing Peter knew about Hank? He never gave himself down time. Ever. The big guy would rather stay up for 72 consecutive hours in a row. Pounding down enough black coffee to scald his throat. Pouring through documents and schematics, keeping his brain persistently active. Such is the life of a mega nerd.

Which begged the question: Where was said mega nerd?

The faint glow from inside the lab caught Peter’s curious eye again. Tempting him to be just a little nosier. Something about the light was almost mesmerizing. Irresistible, even.

Screw it, he thought.

Even these days, in his early thirties; Peter was just as much of a menace as he was in his youth. Had he chilled out by a touch? Absolutely. Did he still enjoy a little mischief-making every now and then? Most definitely.

It really wouldn’t be so bad if he allowed himself one, quick look inside, right? A fast one. Faster than fast. No accidents. In and out.

Peter rushed through the door and into the lab at high speed. His movements were a little too careless and overconfident. And in his carelessness, he may have accidentally bumped straight into a lab table. How he hadn’t seen it coming, he’d never be able to guess.

Somewhat distracted, Peter crashed straight into the table. The force of his body against it caused a series of glass beakers and test tubes to come tumbling down. They shattered upon hitting the tiled floor below. And Peter stumbled back to try and avoid the mess.

His worn sneakers (one of the laces was untied. Must have been the true culprit. Sneaky sneakers.) crushed bits of fragile glass. The soles slid along a neon, pink substance. A glowing substance. The same, faint light he’d been hella curious about in the first place.

In seconds, a hot-pink gas unexpectedly rose into the air. It drifted upwards with a cloudiness much akin to cigarette smoke, straight from the substance Peter stepped in.

“Oh…well…shit…that can’t be good.” He mumbled to himself, pulling his earphones down to hang around his neck. Thin Lizzy’s Sugar Blues echoed quietly from them.

Peter stepped even further back the moment the foreign gas met his nostrils. He coughed, swiping away at the heavy cloud of smoke. A sweet-tasting thickness, like honeysuckle, coated his tongue and filled his throat. Peter blinked away an unexpected, stunned stupor. And he looked down at the pink glow, now having stained one of his shoes.

“Shiiiiit…shit shit shit.”

Glancing around to make sure no one saw what happened, Peter sighed. Annoyed with himself. Way to fuckin’ go, dude.

“Hope that wasn’t anything toxic.” He whispered with a soft cough, clearing his throat. Sugary sweetness littered his taste buds, and he smacked his lips.

Peter bent down to pick up the larger shards of glass on the lab floor. And as he poked through the pieces, he found the occasional strand of blue, beast hair left behind. A reminder. Which made him feel all the more guilty, knowing how annoyed Hank would be once he saw the damage. Sighing again, Peter looked over the mess of broken glass and mysterious liquids.

He shook his head. For a split second, he felt dizzy.

In a rush to clean up the evidence of his escapade, Peter tried to move quickly. However, he found his body refused to kick into speedster mode. His brain, which usually operated at lightspeed; now functioned at a pace way too mellow for his liking. He almost wanted to panic, but his reaction time moved like molasses.

Shit. Fuck. Maybe that glowy, pink substance was something toxic.

The physical effects of whatever-the-fuck he’d breathed in started, weirdly enough, in his fingertips. A strange, almost alien warmth, unlike any Peter had ever felt before. It spread from the tips of his fingers, into the thick veins of his hands. Peter hesitated, dropping a shard of glass. He raised his hand to carefully inspect it, furrowing his brows.

Should he call someone for help? Maybe wait for Hank to come back? Aw, but Hank’s totally gonna give him shit for messin’ things up so bad…

A tingling sensation in his hands kept Peter’s attention for a moment longer. The minute on Peter’s Garfield watch changed with the agonizingly slow passage of time. And a single second ticked by in silence. The only sound to be heard was that of Killer on the Loose playing through his earphones. But in his laggy state of mind, Peter barely registered the tune.

And like the flip of a switch, both Peter’s thoughts, as well as his body, finally caught up with reality. Speeding to an inhuman degree all over again. As if returning to normal. His normal.

Normalcy lasted 0.1 seconds.

Warmth lingering under Peter’s skin turned to blistering heat. A heat which immediately surged through his blood. It gave him goosebumps, causing Peter to jump in his spot. He dropped the pile of glass he’d picked up. And in a blink, Peter stood, struggling to catch his breath. Every inch of his burning body tingled, as though his veins were injected with buzzing, electric static.

The fiery buzz lit aflame in his veins, and moved with a furious rush. It settled somewhere completely unexpected. Boiling deep within his pelvis, the scorching sensation caused his muscles to tighten. And following that, Peter felt his cock spring to life. It twitched under his shining, silver jeans.

A millisecond passed, and his dick grew rock hard.

“Ohhhh-…wait…what the fuck???”

He knew he shouldn’t leave the mess he made behind. That’d be, like, mad rude. Majorly inconsiderate. And probably hazardous too? Fuck! Not fuckin’ cool!

But, at the same time, there was no way in hell Peter could face Hank, or anyone else right now. Not while this was happening. Whatever the hell this was.

Before he bolted, Peter disappeared from the lab and reappeared in a flash. He placed a wet floor sign over the mess of scattered glass and science-y substances. And left a hastily scribbled, sticky note behind:

My bad, Beastie.

- Peter

Panicked, he made a mad dash to his (his mom’s) house. And in a blink’s worth of time, Peter disappeared behind the door to the basement. He hoped with every fiber of his speedy soul, that his mother wasn’t home to hear the sound of it slamming shut.

Once locked in the basement, Peter didn’t bother to turn on the lights. He stumbled through the messy space in a confused, feverish daze. His mind seemed to race a million miles faster. So fast, even Quicksilver himself could barely keep up. Muffled thoughts he couldn’t yet comprehend echoed in the furthest reaches of his subconscious. Peter felt his cheeks flare up with red heat, his breathing growing more labored and hot. Every step he took, every inch he moved, flooded Peter with overwhelming discomfort. Why did his clothes feel so irritating all of a sudden? His skin cringed at the sensation of cotton fabric brushing against it. Peter couldn’t breathe like this. How could anybody breathe in clothes as suffocating as these? He needed to shed them immediately. Now. Right now.

Peter tried to catch his breath as he shrugged off his signature, silver jacket. Next, came the goggles. They were tossed carelessly aside, along with his Walkman. Which he forgot to turn off, leaving it playing through a Thin Lizzy tape he’d already heard a thousand times over. Chinatown.

Sweat drenched articles of clothing were all dropped on the floor. Until Peter was left in nothing but tight, grey, boxer-briefs. And the Garfield watch. He kind of forgot about the Garfield watch.

Peter left a trail of soaked clothes to his unmade bed. Weakly, he fell into the cushions and off his quivering legs.

For a torturous moment, all he could do was writhe around in clouded, heated agony. Every single one of his limbs ached with dull pain. And the blistering heat pooling in his pelvis made him squirm with amorous starvation.

A starvation for something he hadn’t yet figured out.

“Fuuuuuuck. Fuck this.” Peter groaned in soft, breathy pants.

A powerful surge of an even stronger, electric heat fired through him again. And his eyes flew open wide. Beady, black pupils flooded the brown of his irises. Sucking in a deep, labored breath; Peter rolled onto his back. A trickle of steaming sweat dripped down his temple. Titling his head up, Peter squinted. His vision blurred slightly as he stared ahead.

Dark, half-lidded eyes met the twitching bulge in his boxer-briefs. And he knit his brows together.

Something seemed…different.

So, like, whatever. Maybe, privately, Peter had always prided himself on his size. Most definitely above average. His dick had a nice thickness to it, and wasn’t weirdly shaped in any way. And the few times he fucked around with it, he never heard a single complaint from anyone.

But this…

Unless he was totally blind to the size of his own dick his entire life? Something really wasn’t right here.

Another rush of hot, sticky heat washed over Peter like a feverish wave. He trembled, hissing in response to the overwhelming burn that came with it. Under the fabric of his underwear, Peter’s bulge pulsated with demanding aggression. Begging for any stimulation. In a foggy, desperate haze of sexual frustration, Peter reached downward. Hesitant fingers dragged frantically across a trail of soft, silver hairs. Guiding themselves to the waistband of his underwear. A wet spot caught his eye, and he groaned. In one, quick motion, Peter shoved the garment down his trembling legs. Slick precum pulled with the fabric, separating from the tip of his leaking head.

And Peter’s aching cock finally bounced free.

He struggled to comprehend the image in front of him. Peter rapidly blinked, staring down at his dick in muddled confusion. Blossoming desire burst with an electrifying buzz through his cock. And Peter hissed again. He sank his teeth hard into his lip, mindlessly bucking his hips into nothing.

Nothing.

An instinct in his subconscious mind forced itself forward, demanding Peter find something. And fast. His cock bounced on its own again, visibly pulsating. Thick, wet precum spilled from the tip. And he threw his head back with a whine.

“H-Holy shit…”

Yeah. No doubt about it now. Peter’s dick looked a lot bigger than he remembered. The length ached so painfully, vibrating in a most subtle way. Imperceptible to the human eye. Colored a dark, pinkish hue, and decorated with pulsing veins; Peter’s cock appeared on the verge of bursting. And the tip sputtered with so much precum, he was left wondering if he’d cum already without realizing it.

Whatever! Be cool, dude! So, yeah! He must have exposed himself to some kind of weird, sex chemical. What the hell was Hank even doing with something that potent?? No way he was saving it for personal use. Peter really didn’t wanna think about that right now.

But he couldn’t have slapped a warning label on it?

Don’t touch! Lest ye be horny!

Not that Peter would’ve seen a label anyway.

No big dealio! Maybe all he needed was to get off. And really get off. Like, maybe Peter needed to nut so hard, the afterglow would slow him down for a good, few minutes. Instead of his usual, mere seconds.

He could totally do that! Easily! If Peter felt it necessary, he could beat off in the span of a second. Maybe after? He could finally move on with his life. Never to race carelessly through Beastie Boy’s nerd lab again. Call it a lesson learned.

Peter took his girthy(er) length in his hand, the veins straining under his skin. Based on feel alone, he could tell he’d grown in size. His hand was big enough on its own as is. But his cock held an even heavier, unfamiliar weight in his palm. Extremely sensitive too. Peter’s cock was so hypersensitive, that a single, light grasp got him writhing across the bedsheets.

He sucked in another, ragged breath. Just a quick second was all he needed. And this heinous experience would finally come to pass. Relief. Peter only wanted to feel sweet, freeing relief.

Reminder. Note to self: Maybe don’t go barreling through any science labs like a total spaz next time.

Several, squeezing pumps of his cock happened in an instant. By the next second, Peter came in bursts. Thick ropes of cum burned hot on his skin, quickly spilling over and making a filthy mess of him.

At the height of orgasm, his body convulsed in small twitches. Subtle vibrations raced through his veins, bringing feelings of ecstasy with them. Peter bit his lip even harder to hold back the obscene moans threatening to leave his throat. He breathed humid, exasperated pants of air through his nose.

Being the king of speed, it was completely natural for Peter to recover immediately after cumming. A couple seconds, and he’d be good to go all over again. Peter secretly prided himself on this trait too. His endless stamina came (no pun intended) in handy, should any totally hot babes wanna screw around for hours at a time.

Such a trait wasn’t so handy now. Under the alluring spell of magical, sex chemicals? Recovery took less than a nanosecond.

Peter’s head fell forward, his hand still wrapped around his raging hard-on. Absent-mindedly, he pumped the length without thinking, spreading the remnants of his first release. Running his other hand through the damp, silver locks of his hair, Peter groaned.

“Ohhh….this sucks so bad…auuugh…”

That same, now all too familiar ache fluctuating in his cock raged on. Orgasm did nothing at all to calm the storm surging with electric, tingling heat through Peter’s body. His dick twitched, pulsating red. Desperate to bury itself deep in something hot, wet, and so tight. Fuck. Peter needed something tight around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth. And he needed it so, wickedly bad.

He pushed himself over the edge two more times. And after that, another three. Eventually, his maddening frustration got the better of him. Peter stood from his bed in a fwip. Slumped over in a heavy breathing, cum drenched mess of himself; Peter observed his sweat-soaked body in a full mirror.

His heart hammered away fast enough to send even him into cardiac arrest. Peter couldn’t catch his breath. And no matter how many times he felt the sweet, sanctity of orgasmic release; his desire was never satiated. Peace lasted only a fraction of a second, before dissipating completely. Leaving Peter to suffer in endless, boner agony.

The next second, Peter found himself hunched over in the shower.

Cool, icy cold water cascaded down his trembling body. Bracing his hand on the wall, Peter kept his other pressed to the wet glass. In an attempt to relax himself, Peter took long, drawn out breaths. Trying to calm the stirring fire in the pit of his belly; he fought the insatiable desires raving on in the back of his mind.

The cold did little to rid him of his painful, oversensitive erection. Peter couldn’t shake his thirsty, carnal needs. Even as he basked in the peace of cool wetness on his scorching skin, horniness consumed him. Dragging him down into the flaming depths of frisky hell. Praise be to our dark lord and savior: Boner Satan.

Peter made another, more frustrated attempt at stroking himself off. Just one more time, he thought. Standing under heavenly, frigid water; Peter wrapped a warm hand around his length. He was so, insanely desperate for anything to fuck that, by now; Peter instinctively rocked his hips into his own fist. Fucking into the wetness of it, he kept a palm pressed to the shower glass.

“Please please please please please please please pl-f-fuck! Oh, please please-” Peter whined, a flurry of needy moans leaving his lips. Yet another second passed, and Peter came again. Shooting a thick load of hot cum straight onto the shower wall, he shuddered. Peter’s hips moved on their own accord. And he found himself unable to control his own movements. His cock continued to fuck itself rapidly into his fist, even despite the near-painful overstimulation coursing through his veins.

Peter couldn’t stop the tearful moans of torturous pleasure flying off his tongue.

“F-FUCK! FUUUUCK! PLEASE!” He cried, forcing himself to free his cock.

Falling forward, Peter pressed his forehead to the cool, shower wall. And he braced himself with an elbow to its surface. Soaked, silver locks hung over his face, and Peter stared down at the shower drain in hazy thought.

He knew he was beyond exhausted, having pushed himself too far. Peter’s mutation never allowed him to sleep. But once this was all over? He promised himself he'd be taking the longest nap ever recorded in human history. Jot that one down in the Guinness World Records.

Peter lazily blinked, his eyes half-lidded.

Time to face facts. Only one thing could possibly satisfy this unending, carnal need. Peter’s animalistic instincts blared like a siren, shrill in his ear. They screamed out - Another person. Peter needed to feel the intimate touch of another, living, breathing body. Someone to breed. That word seemed to echo in the back of his mind like a forbidden whisper. Breed. Breed. Breed.

A conflicting onslaught of embarrassment swung like a wrecking ball through Peter’s thoughts. It shattered the lecherous desire holding itself stable in his head. Sure, he needed to feel the touch of another person. But…who??

Truthfully, Peter wasn’t comfortable screwing around with anyone in this state. Had this been any normal day? And he only wanted a fun, playful fling? No strings attached? He’d be a lot more open. But…like this? Misty headed, overstimulated, and choking to death on an ultra-desperate, sweet smelling, horny spell? C’mon! That’s just-...that’s so, majorly embarrassing! How was he even supposed to explain this totally weird scenario to anyone anyway?

Sup, babe! So, I was fuckin’ around. Bein’ a pest. Y’know, as usual. And I sorta knocked some stuff over in ol’ Beastie’s lab. Yeah. There was this weird aphrodisiac involved, I guess. It was totally an accident, by the way. But I’m, like, so horny right now I can’t breathe. Already tried jerkin’ off. Yeah. Like, a lot. So, uh…listen…wanna screw?

Nope! Not happening! No way in hell!

But dammit all, he needed it! Peter was so, painfully hard and starving to fuck; he was almost convinced he’d die if he didn’t get to. If he didn’t bury his dick in something so deep and warm; if Peter didn’t stuff someone full of enough cum to cause a pregnancy scare. He would literally die. Plain and simple. A fact of science. Confirmed by Bill Nye himself.

What else was he supposed to do? Ask Hank for advice? Pfffbbt…

Burning, insatiable desire swarmed Peter again. He disappeared from the shower in an instant, now completely dried off. And he paced the basement at a speed so quick, he looked nothing more than a nude blur in the wind.

Okay. Fuck. Who, man? Who?? Think about this logically! How could Peter get his dick wet with as little embarrassment involved as possible?

Peter’s first thought?

You.

It shouldn’t have been you. But it was you.

Because of course you were his first thought. Peter had known you long enough now, that he felt he could trust you with anything. Even wickedly awkward situations like this one. You were his best friend. His dorky, little partner in crime. So patient, and so understanding. He knew for sure you’d never, in a million, bajillion years, judge him. For anything. No matter what.

Not to mention, you’d look so damn fine with your ass bent over for him, eagerly taking his coc-

Peter shook away the thought.

Jeez…that’s…a hella twisted thought to have about your best bud, dude.

Regardless of what Peter told himself, his instincts seemed to think otherwise. He felt his cock pulsate with painful, aching need again. And yet another, more torturous burst of heat blazed like a wildfire through his blood. Peter had become so oversensitive, he couldn’t hold back anymore of his needy, whiny noises.

Bolting to his bed in a flash, Peter grabbed a pillow. And he buried his face into the plush of it to conceal his moans.

“A-Aaaaa…fuck-” He whined, his voice muffled. What followed was a distressed laugh.

Focus! Focus, you horny spaz!

Other options. What were his other options, if any?

Some random stranger? No.

One: Peter wasn’t at all comfortable with total randos touching him like that. And Two: Talking some randy into messing around would take wayyyyy too long. Peter didn’t have the patience for it. Especially not right now.

You.

Mystique? Hot. So hot, she’s deadly. But, no.

She was Hank’s girl anyway. What kinda bro would Peter be to steal her away, just to relieve some horny tension? And tension he brought upon himself, while being a nuisance in Hank’s lab, no less. That’d be messed up, man!

You.

Any other members of the X-Men?

Ehhh…probably not. Most of ‘em were too young for Peter anyway. How warped would it be if he went to them in need of a sexual favor? They already thought he was a bit of a screwball. Why make it any worse?

You.

Wade Wilson?

He’d been assisting the X-Men a lot lately. All under the guidance of mister Russian, steel-dick himself: Colossus. Wade was a pretty eccentric guy. And a huge pervert. Really kinky. The kind of dude who’d be open to virtually anything if the right person asked him. So… why not?

But Wade would probably have a field day ripping Peter’s dignity apart. And more than likely, he’d spill the details to everyone completely unprompted. Plus, he’d be so obnoxious and teasing about Peter’s situation the whole time. And when was Wade ever gonna stop calling Peter ‘Jeffrey’ for no reason?? That shit didn't make any sense! Augh…

Nah. Couldn’t be him.

You.

Peter sucked in another, shuddering breath. His limbs trembled in humming surges of unbearable pleasure. As his pulsing cock bounced in a distracting desire for touch; Peter forced himself to ignore it. He checked his Garfield watch, squinting to make out the numbers through hazy vision.

Right about now? He knew your schedule should be open. Peter had memorized your daily doings at a distance. In a totally-not-creepy way. More in a clingy-lost-puppy-who-missed-your-company kinda way. Not that you knew about it. Which…yeah…maybe that did make it a little weird. Oops.

Peter fell onto his back on his bed, sinking into the blankets. He rapidly drummed his fingers on his bare belly. And he nipped his bottom lip in thought.

He’d always been a bit of a risk-taker. Facing the forbidden often gave Peter a kind of rush he sorely missed at this point in his life. And of all the risky chances he could take, none would be as forbidden as sticking his dick in his best friend.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. No duh, he’d thought about it. A lot. Ever since he met you, Peter hadn’t been blind to the obvious. Of course, he noticed how your hips swayed as you walked. How could he resist staring at the fullness of your lips, while you giggled at another one of his corny jokes? And it was virtually impossible to ignore the way your eyes sparkled up at him. Especially when he called you babe. And what about the cute look on your face when you blushed, all because Peter teased you one, too many times?

Wait. Shit.

Either he was way too far gone, and lost without hope in a desolate desert of horny.

Or…Peter only just now realized he was totally, undeniably in love with you.

Probably both. Or, maybe? Just horny.

Teeth sinking further into his lip, Peter grinned mischievously through the pink flush in his cheeks. He’d been absentmindedly stroking his cock while lost in a daze of filthy, wreckless thoughts. Ultra, mega, next-level, wreckless thoughts.

Peter should have known. The very instant he thought of turning to you for help? He was done for. No turning back. No other option. There was nobody else in the world he’d rather screw around with right about now.

Another thought flashed through Peter’s mind. Like a brilliant light. The image of you on your back in his bed. Your legs spread open wide, just for him. Your gorgeous, doe eyes timidly looking up at him as you helped guide his cock into your-

Peter’s throbbing dick stood to immediate attention then. So, extremely rock hard it seemed to have a mind of its own. Peter’s cock pulled itself from his grasp, pulsating with a swell of hot desire. For you. And only you.

He really, really, really shouldn’t do this. It’d be leagues beyond stupid. Reaching levels of stupidity only found in far off, distant universes.

But, hey! Peter might literally die! So, fuck it. Right? No way you’d be happy if he died. His death would most definitely break your heart. And he didn’t wanna break your heart!

A fwip, and Peter grabbed his phone from where it was buried, deep in some sofa cushions. His phone was a device he barely ever used. Social media wasn’t his forte. Peter wasn't afraid to admit; he was pretty out of touch. He still listened to cassette tapes on a Walkman, for fuck’s sake.

Typing something into his phone in a heated stupor, Peter’s fingers sped across the keys. Embarrassingly enough, he found he made an ungodly amount of spelling errors. Not his fault. He could barely even think straight. Instead of correcting his mistakes, Peter erased the text entirely. Replacing it with something much more simple and to-the-point.

He only hoped you’d understand.

- Basement. SOS

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

486 notes · View notes