A lone figure slowly shambles his way up to you. You never believed Big Foot was real, but seeing the man's 6'7 height and his 240-pound frame is starting to make you rethink your previous opinions on the subject.

He had a full mane of dirty blonde hair with specks of grey and silver and a beard that hid most of his facial features away from view. He's holding a chair behind him for some reason, and he plants it indirectly in front of him as he stops before swinging one of his tree trunk-like legs on the chair.

He's wearing a pair of faded and well-worn jeans, with a blue flannel shirt buttoned up almost all the way with his sleeves rolled up, showing his thick and pale forearms.

He looked morose and even a little sad like someone had shaved a bear and trained him to be the world's worst youth canceler. You can only pray silently to yourself, hoping that he doesn't pull out an acoustic guitar to sing a song to try and be "hip" with the kids.

"Hey, Gang." the fanfiction writer known as "WhoInvited ThisguyOn" or""WhoInvitedthatguy?" said, trying to get the attention of the people who, let's be honest, had been extremely patient as they waited for him to deal with the lingering issues that kept him away from the hobby." So let's rap about life."

So many, many of you are aware. I suffered what most people would call a bit of a mental breakdown near the end of October.

A lot has changed since then, including but not limited to quitting my job, selling my house, breaking up with my now ex-girlfriend, and buying an RV while just driving aimlessly across the country with a couple of friends as I slowly but surely come to terms with not just my mortality but with the fact that my daughter, who I named Hailie by the way, was dead.

I smoked a lot of pot, got into several bar fights with some bikers, and saw places I never thought I would see.

I have returned home with my family and friends and am slowly rebuilding my life.

These past few months have sucked. There's no other way to describe it. But I have grown from the trauma, and now I am back.

The first and only thing I wrote since October was a Game of Thrones one-shot I posted about a month ago. Everything else I have updated has been something I wrote before I went on break that I just got around to editing.

I have officially regained a lot of motivation to write, and I hope to put my feelings onto paper to deal with the lingering shit I'm feeling.

I was about halfway done with a new chapter of this story in particular, 8000 words to be exact, when I realized I wanted to give the people who have been giving me all their patience and those who kept in touch with me during these few months to make sure I was ok, a bit of an early present.

This is an excerpt from the abanded "Battle of Feoh," Arc, which I will also add to specific chapters of this story. Below that, is the second of a planned four-part to the Spiderman x La blue girl omake I made a thousand years ago.

The next chapter is being worked on and posted promptly, but until then, I hope this quenches your appetite.

Peace.


Deleted scene: The Battle of Feoh Part 1

Steve hated war.

It would surprise a few people to learn that fact about him, considering who he was and what he did for a living. The legendary Captain America, the Icon of the greatest generation, the hero of the allied forces of the Second World War, and a man who had personally cut a bloody pathway through more battlefields than he would care to remember. It sounded so poetic when you were an outsider looking in, fighting the battles that needed to be fought and protecting people who couldn't defend themselves. It almost sounded noble when you thought of war like that. But war, like life itself, was rarely that cut and dry.

It was messy, and more often than not, someone who shouldn't be hurt was the one who got hurt, and those who were the most innocent sometimes would lose their lives at the hands of men who get to see the sunrise the next day. He had seen good men and women, honest and caring and faithful to their morals and beliefs, people cut down in the primes of their lives and left to rot in a mud-soaked hole in the ground. Yet, simultaneously, some of the most gutless and cowardly scum that walked gods green earth lived long and prosperous lives, passing peacefully into death on a warm bed surrounded by loved ones.

Not every enemy was a villain, and not every ally was a good person. While at the end of the day, Steve knew he was doing what needed to be done, he knew his actions could have unforeseen consequences. War was hell, and sometimes all he had was a blunt machete to use when a sharpened scalpel was needed.

But then there were times like this, one of the few times in Steve's far too long life where concepts like that seemed to fade away. Times when a blunt Machete really was the only tool for the job.

The clear and uncontroversial sight before him didn't give him pause in his movements, as his thoughts and actions solidified inside Steve's mind as he took in the presence of the men before him, a term he used very loosely.

Because these weren't men but wolves who wore human skin to hide their dark desires and excuse their dark actions, Steve had seen men turn into beasts whose lust for violence made them inflict their anger and resentment on those who couldn't stop them or those who the men thought they could get away with, only to dispose of them when they were done.

Steve's presence was enough to stop whatever was happening or was going to happen, the men rising to their feet and unsheathing their blades and weapons as their victims scurried for the safety of the shadows. Steve saw the same look of shame and fear he saw his mother wear when he had returned home earlier than he was supposed to.

Steve noticed a mother and daughter, two of the many of the city who sought sanctuary in the house of worship; the tall pillars and high ceilings were as familiar to him as his own articles of faith, the familiar feeling of his mother's rosary hanging next to his first set of dog tags around his neck.

They had come here seeking safety only to be overwhelmed and taken advantage of by men of their city, those who turned their coats to support the invaders to support their desires to control and use without protest.

To rape, beat, and kill. Not because the men had a reason, there was no justification in the world to justify these actions, but because they were strong enough to do it, and their victims were weak.

"I want everyone to look away from what's about to happen," Steve said, his voice echoing across the church's high ceiling. Steve remembered always wondering what God sounded like, the memories of his local priest speaking in his thick "right off the boat" Irish accent filling his ears with tales of revelations and the second coming."You dont need to see this."

The comment got a few laughs from the men before him, their confidence building once they realized Steve had entered the church alone. But, of course, they couldn't imagine that a single man could hope to stand up to such numbers. Still, Steve paid them little mind, only counting the men in front of him to keep a mental checklist of how many targets he had left before he could move to ensure their victims were safe.

There were 78 men altogether, fourteen on the center dias their newer and more elaborate-looking armor showcasing their superior rank to the other men. Forty-seven men were spread throughout the rows of pews, their victims using Steve's arrival to crawl to relative safety; the number of civilians he couldn't see meant he had to take his time to avoid harming anyone that got in his path. Twelve more were on the second-floor balconies, sitting like vultures waiting to pick a corpse clean. Still, it was the five who were currently taking their sweet time walking into striking distance of him that he paid the most attention to.

But they were taking too long.

He rushed forward, throwing his shield into the skull of one of the men sending him crashing into the pew and snapping his back, leaving him like a rag doll as he convulsed on the ground. Steve caught his shield a moment later when it bounced off the man's head, dodging a sword strike as he punched the man's jaw hard enough to wake the man's ancestors from the dead.

He kicked forward, turning another man inside out as the man's broken body skidded across the blood-stained red carpet leading to the pulpit of the temple, crashing into the dias with his neck breaking from the impact. He caught the sword strike of the fourth man, snapping his wrist like a trig and hoisting the man off his feet, and throwing him into the air as Steve gripped the fifth man by his throat, staring the man in his eyes before throwing the man into the wall, his impact enough to leave cracks in the stone as the last remaining man hit the ground with a thud and a twitch as he laid unmoving at steves feet.

The room was silent as the last man took his final breath, a ragged and painful-sounding breath that would have turned his stomach if he was that same kid he was in Brooklyn all those years ago. But instead, he was grateful for the silence, as it allowed him to come to terms with what he was about to do. A voice from the back of Steve's head whispered that none of these men would leave this church alive.

"Make peace with God," Steve said simply as he uttered a small prayer under his breath. Despite not following the faith of these lands, this was a house of God and needed to be respected as such." Because you're all be seeing him soon."

Then all hell broke loose.

The men scattered throughout the pews rushed him, their swords were drawn and ready to drive them into any part of steves body they could get their hands on, but they were unorganized. Some jumped over the pews, lunging from one to another to get to him. In contrast, others ran towards the center walkway, giving Steve a perfectly straight line of targets.

He rushed them, his shield raised as he gored through four men, throwing their bodies to the side like a toddler would his toys, one man landing hard on his neck as his body folded like an accordion. He dodged a strike from an axe, twisting his torso around the body of his attacker and responding with a shield strike to the back of the man's head before hitting a roundhouse kick to a man's liver with enough force to send the man flying backward into one of his compatriates.

Steve threw his shield to his left, hitting a man from the balcony in the temple of his head as he fell what looked to be a solid thirty feet to the floor below, crashing through a table. The shield, not losing an ounce of its momentum and power, redirected itself into the back of the skull of a man who had been readying a crossbow, tearing his jaw from the rest of the man's head before embedding itself through the armor of one of the higher ranked mercenaries, his body crumpling against the once pristine white stone steps to the dais.

Now shieldless, Steve grabbed forward to rip the spear out of a man's hands before driving it clear through his unfortunate opponent's chest.

Steve wasn't finished, however, running forward into a charge, driving the spear's head into the chest of a second, then a third, and then a fourth man before he was finished. Steve twisted his body to face the direction he ran from before he hoisted the spear and the four, some still struggling men, into the air. Then, with a single motion, he threw all four into the air as they scattered across the rows of pews. The bodies landed like artillery shells, shattering the wooden seats into nothing more than blood soak splinters and sending their comrades running for cover.

He usually wouldn't go so far, the strength he had been given was as much of a responsibility as it was a gift, and Steve hated to think he was using it as a weapon against those who angered him. But this wasn't like most situations; these men weren't thieves who broke the law because they thought they had no other option in life. These weren't men who were misguided into thinking they were defending their homes or way of life.

Steve was happy to pull his punches when he thought those he fought could be reasoned with or rehabilitated; it was an opinion he always held that no one was beyond redemption and that given a chance to do good, anyone could and would make that choice, they just needed an opportunity to do so.

But the war had a way of making that aspect of people change; it turned men into monsters and turned their victims into cattle. Steve remembered the destruction throughout the countryside of France and Germany; the families left devasted and gutted, the women who refused to look into the eyes of anyone after a platoon of nazis traveled through their town. Children left barren and destitute from crimes Steve couldn't even stomach to think about.

He remembered the camps and wondered if humanity was even worth the trouble of saving after seeing the level of depravity he had seen behind those barb-wired walls.

But those horrors weren't just in the past, and the shadow they cast was enough for Steve to keep pushing forward. Because as long as he held his breath in his lungs, he would stop these horrors from happening again. If that meant he needed to stop pulling his punches, then so be it.

He picked up his shield, the sight of blood on the white star in the center making Steve feel complicated emotions, but that was something he would have to think about later as he charged forward once more. He blocked a sword strike, redirecting it between the shoulder blade of another attacker before crashing the men's heads into one another and sending them both into darkness.

Steve worked in deceptively lazy-looking circles as he walked down the hall. Where his fists and shield met an opponent, it sheared through armor to cleave the flesh beneath or split helmet and skull together. Where his arm struck home, a mercenary would reel back with a fist-sized dent in his helmet or his breastplate. Those struck so in the head would almost instantly fall, their eyes losing their shine before their bodies hit the ground; Those whose bodies were left broken by the onslaught found themselves crawling to safety like frightened children hiding from the monster under their beds. More than a few mercenaries were trampled to death by their comrades, trying to move closer to attack or run away and hide from the demon unleashed upon them.

Steve raised his shield again, blocking a series of cross bolts as he jumped into the maze of overturned and blood-soaked pews. The men on the second story needed to be dealt with before he could move forward, but while his first instinct was to rip the benches out of their foundations and simply chuck them at his attackers like he was a quarterback, he couldn't be sure they didn't have any hostages with them.

Another barrage of bolts hit near his location as he stood up, throwing his shield at a 90-degree angle above his head, the shield ricocheting off the ceiling and into the mob of men firing at him. Most dodged, but Steve was satisfied at the sound of Vibranium against bone filling his ears as he rushed towards one of the many tapestries that hung from the walls.

He gripped tight against the cloth, pulling himself up like a natural-born mountain climber. His superhuman grip strength in his fingers made the 30-foot climb far too easy for him and far too quickly for the men who still lived to retaliate.

He caught a bolt in his hands without stopping his charge, throwing the bolt back at its owner like a throwing knife as it embedded in between the eyes of the mercenary. Next, he gripped another man by the scruff of his tunic, choosing to throw the man's 200-pound body like he was as light as a ball, the screaming man turning himself into a living weapon as he crashed into two of his compatriots who were trying to follow Steve up to the second story.

Steve kicked forward, smashing a man with a snap kick to his face, breaking his nose, and sending him spiraling backward as Steve threw a cross and hook to a man who was dead before he even hit the ground, catching a knife thrown at him and threw it back without even looking at the direction it came from or where it went.

Three men charged at him, either out of desperation or because they had run out of bolts to fire. Steve didn't know, and he didn't seem to care as he met them halfway through their charge, jumping up and kicking the man to the left and right of him before he landed behind the third and middle man. He kicked back, snapping the man's knee like he had unloaded a shotgun shell to the man's leg before he wrapped his arms around the whimpering rapist's waist and slammed him into the ground in a suplex that Steve had seen one of the many times Thor had made him watch professional wrestling with him.

He didn't take the time to breathe as he noticed the head of one of them who followed him poker over the balcony railing; why none of the men didn't decide to use the easy-to-access staircase, Steve didn't know, but that wasn't his problem.

Steve picked his shield back up and rushed forward, and jumped into the air, gripping the head of the unfortunate mercenary as he made his way down and using the man's body to soften his landing before rolling into the fall and throwing the man's body into the head of another kuroinu mercenary.

Steve watched as the remaining men backed away, far more emphasis on their defensive formations than looking for an opening for an attack. Their shields, thick oak, and iron bolted or hardened leather were raised as they tried to surround Steve where he stood. Men behind the shield wall raised their spears and swords or whatever weapon they could pick from the ground from their fallen comrades. Steve took his time as he walked forward, noticing the more time he held the men's attention solely on him, the more time it gave the women they once held hostage to escape their notice.

The fewer hostages he had to worry over, the quicker he could end this.

"Before we continue." Steve said as he surveyed the remaining men before him, cracking and flexing his fingers and stretching his neck." Would anyone like to leave?"

The only response he received was a roar of an attack as the men closed ranks and tried to overwhelm him with their numbers, which worked the last time. Still, Steve imagined it seemed a good idea considering their limited options.

He dodged a stab from a spear, redirecting the weapon so it was left embedded into a shield held by another man, ducking under the shaft to deliver a kick into the diaphragm of a swordsman, sending him crashing and seizing onto the floor. Next, he deflected an axe with the reinforced armor of his gauntlets, cracking the blade slightly from his parry as he delivered a haymaker to the still off-balanced man before turning and grabbing the spear shaft sticking into the shield.

Steve grunted as he twisted his body, freeing the shaft from the shield and, from the looks of it, tearing the arm out of the socket of the man who held it before smashing and breaking the spear into the chest of another man who had thought it was the perfect time to try and make a move on Steave at that exact moment.

As men fell by the second, the white tiled floor of the house of worship became filled with spatters of blood and other bodily fluids, causing many men to slip and slide as they moved in to attack. Steve took advantage, grabbing a man's arm and pulling, slamming the man into the floor with a meaty thud as he delivered a backhanded elbow into the jaw of another man before hitting a particularly large man with an equally enormous war hammer with a flying knee to the man's head, before contorting the now unmoving body into a hip toss that sent another three men spiraling into the floor in a heap.

Steve raised his shield to block another sword, deflecting the strike into the guard of another attacker, slicing the man's ear off before he dropped low and swept the legs of both men. He didn't try to break the legs of the men, but Steve couldn't bring himself to feel sorry about it as the men wailed on the ground.

Steve threw his shield again, hitting a man hard enough to send him flying through one of the stained glass windows into the outside. The sound of hundreds of feet of knights and soldiers massacring every kuroinu mercenary and turn cloak they could find now filled the inside of the church.

The shield bounced off man before bouncing off and hitting one of the remaining rangers who was readying a crossbow just out of arms reach of Steve. The man fell to the floor as if a sniper had shot him before the shield returned to Steve's outstretched hand a moment later, allowing him to bash the Vibranium weapon into the body of a duel swordsman. The blow was enough to force the man to drop his blades in stunned pain and drop down to his knees, allowing Steve to grip the collar of the man's tunic and throw him up into the ceiling of the lowered hallway, cracking the stone and splintering the wood as he did so.

Whatever confidence the men held was gone; as they watched, the bodies of their comrades began to stack like sandbags. Many of the remaining men were now crowded to the front of the church, trying in vain to use the main entrance to make their escape, the knowledge that Steve had barricaded the door with one of the enormous, ornate granite statues that seemingly littered the church grounds slowing being realized. They were locked in with him and could do nothing about it.

Steve noticed the crowd of victims huddled to one other, the nuns who had been brutalized before Steve could hear using their bodies to shield the women and children who had come to them for protection. Once more, Steve thought of his mother, and not for the first time. He felt an anger overcome him that made him want to break everything he could get his hands on.

But anger wouldn't help him right now, and anger wouldn't help those who had already been hurt or suffered. So for their sake, more than his own, Steve remained calm, but only barely. A slash of a blade attacked Steve, but it was slow and desperate, less of a calculated strike and more of an attack out of the sheer instinct of a man who was too afraid to die with dignity but was too arrogant and egotistical to surrender when he knew he had no chance of survival.

The slash was ducked, and the blade was ripped out of the man's hands before Steve's colossal gloved fist broke every bone in the man's face. Steve saw the look of fear cross the faces of the remaining men who saw it, the inevitability of what Steve was about to do to them, freezing most of the men in front of him like a herd of deer staring at an oncoming eighteen-wheeler.

Most of them.

"Die you son-ava-bitch," a man, not much older than eighteen, swung at him, the confidence and stupidity of youth making him think he had a shot at doing what men twice his age and twice his size couldn't do." For Vault!"

Steve hated nothing more than when he stood in front of a "true believer," someone who didn't fight for money or to fight to defend themselves or their home, but someone who fought because they believed what they were doing was the right thing. No amount of evidence could convince them otherwise. He could generally respect that amount of dedication. Still, when it was towards the subjugation and enslavement of millions and the legalized rape of countless, Steve could only feel the red-hot hatred fill his body.

But not towards the man he held in his hands, but the man who implanted the thoughts into the boy's head.

Steve felt himself grow angry at the thought that Vault's poisonous actions were destroying the lives of those who opposed him, and his words were poisoning the minds of those who followed him. The ideology of entitlement and forced hierarchy based on a person's gender or sex wasn't new to Steve, but it still pissed him off. But as Steve dodged the clumsy attack thrown at him before he hoisted the boy up and over his head, Steve felt a pain of guilt rush through his body.

Eighteen-year-olds were dumb, but they were allowed to be dumb and should be allowed the chance to improve and grow from their past mistakes. This thought stopped Steve from breaking the young man in his hands, instead tossing the teenager to the side against the relatively soft surface of an overturned pew. He'd be concussed but live, hopefully long enough, to learn how wrong and destructive his actions and behavior were.

Or he wouldn't, and if that were the case, Steve would deal with him when the time came.

Steve Rogers, the legendary Captain America, the Icon of the greatest generation, the hero of the allied forces of the second world War, and a man who had just cut a bloody pathway through the city of Feoh, stared silently at the broken and frightened men in front of him. Whatever remained of the swagger and confidence of the seventy-eight men was gone, replaced with the terror-filled eyes and broken bones of the four men who remained. Steve was covered in blood, none of it his own, but that knowledge did little to soothe his mind.

A part of him wanted to stop and offer mercy to the men, but the thought of what they would still be doing if he hadn't arrived smothered whatever feeling of compassion he wanted to show. But he knew that if his morals were so easy to toss aside in times of war, he was no different than the monsters before him. His ideals and morals were not less important during these challenging times; they were even more critical.

These men were lucky that the angels of Steve's better nature ultimately won.

"Drop your weapons and surrender." Steve shouted, his voice like a roar of a lion daring any creature who called the savannah its home, daring anyone to challenge him." This is your last chance."

The men followed his directions, their chipped and blunted weapons falling out of their tired and broken hands as they dropped to their punished knees, their death hanging over their heads like dark clouds of a rainstorm. The look of defeat etched on their faces like the stone of a statue, a sight Steve had seen more than his fair share of times.

So listless and dejected were the surviving mercenaries; not a single one made a move to resist, not even when they were tied and bound with heavy rope and chains, the same rope and chains they had brought with them to control their hostages.

"The catacombs under the church," Steve heard the voice of one of the nuns, the woman who looked far too young to be the mother superior of this particular church but who nonetheless led the congregation with unquestioned authority." It's little more than a box walled off with a foot of solid bedrock around it, but it will do to hold these men."

Steve nodded as he pushed the captured men forward, noticing that most of the nuns not preoccupied with helping their traumatized ex-hostages were following him. Some preyed silently, others out loud, but most walked silently, the moment's weight too much for them to vocalize.

The sound of the war outside raged as they walked, Steve knowing full well that once he made sure these men were secured, he would need to jump back into action, a piece of information that was not much of a secret.

"Rest assured. I'll be back when this is all over."Steve said, his voice enough fear to cause the men he was leading to flinch at the sound." But, when I do, if I hear from a single woman in this church of anyone of you acting like animals, I will not hesitate to bury you with those you fought with."

His voice was like thunder, and as he spoke, he felt the breath of the nuns surrounding him hitch slightly as if they were in the presence of their god-given human form. He felt his mother's rosary burn as he remembered his good friend's voice in his ear, the giant's huge and warm smile gazing at him like a proud brother in arms and blood brother.

"Even gods shudder at the anger of a good man, my friend."The thunderer said once over a night of drinking and storytelling," And you are a man who I would never wish to see across a battlefield friend."

Soft answers of yes broke through the men's cracking voices, their true cowardly nature returning and whatever false bravado they wore when dealing with those they saw as inferior gone as they stared into the deep blue eyes of the beast in human form before them.

For on that day, unbeknownst to Steve Rogers, a rip had been torn open in the church of the goddess, led by a small and dedicated population of the citizens of Feoh, who spoke their prayers of the angel of light who sought to protect the goddesses citizen in times of calamity and war.

The legend of the Shield of the Feoh was truly born.


"Along cum a spider 2" or "Hot single ninja looking for a good man to blow out her and her sister's backs."

By the time Peter Parker turned eighteen, he had hoped that the roller coaster of emotional and physical turmoil his life had deteriorated into since he decided that becoming a masked superhero would eventually stop. Finally, allowing him to get a semblance of normality and stability in his life that he desperately needs.

High school sucked enough as it was without having to worry about fighting guys wearing crazy and outlandish outfits wielding alien technology or dudes who wanted to turn people into human/lizard hybrids with pressurized smoke bombs.

That was a weird one.

He still had about a year and a half to go until then. But from what he had seen, he was beginning to suspect that the universe would keep throwing new and exciting curveballs directly at his head, hoping one of them would knock some sense back into him.

If anything, Peter was starting to think this life would get crazier and crazier the moment he left high school, a hypothesis that had been proven correct the moment he landed in this strange little corner of Japan. If he thought it was weird, that meant something.

He had seen aliens with his own two eyes. Mutants? Some of his best friends were mutants. Gods? Thor, the Norse god of thunder, was a living, breathing person who not only had his own Instagram account but he chose to spend his time posting where to find the best Chinese takeout spots in every city he fought a world-ending monster in.

And god damn, he knew the best places to find Peking duck and pork buns everywhere he went.

But demons? That was pretty weird, right? And it opened up an entirely new can of worms that Peter never had to worry about before. But it was the ones who trained in sexual ninjitsu that took the cake. Who in their right mind would have imagined something like that would have existed in real life?

Oh, how adorable his nativity had been.

But here he was, less than a week later from fighting a two-eyed no-horned flying purple people eater alongside the Avengers, on the opposite side of the world, not only elbow deep in both demons and sexual-based fighting styles, god that sounded like a Madlib, but specific demons who trained sexually based fighting styles being aggressively into him.

"Just you wait, Peter." the sultry voice of the woman he had become engaged in speaking through the curtains. "You're gonna love it..."

That's what she said the last time, Peter thought to himself. The memory of the hot pink and heart-covered lace panty and bra combo she wore the last time she stepped out of the dressing room made Peter break out into another cold sweat. If what Miko was preparing now was anywhere close to that, he didn't know if he could survive it.

"Think of Aunt May, "he said to himself. The mantra of his mother figure's name just enough to keep all his thought processes to the head on his shoulders instead of the head in his pants, "Just think of Aunt May."

How was this worse than when he took Liz to the homecoming dance? Her dad had been a supervillain and had tried numerous times to murder Peter where he stood.

How could being with a girl his age who was just that into him make him feel more apprehensive than fighting with supervillains?

A year ago, he couldn't pay a girl to even look at him, much less talk to him; now, here, he was currently being courted by the heiress of some ancient ninja clan who specialized in sex and also happened to be the daughter of the king of demons.

Did he mention the sex thing? Because that part, in particular, was hard for the young man to wrap his head around. An entire fighting style and philosophy revolving around sex and kink play, it sounded like a fever dream. Like someone was actively messing with him to see if he was gullible to believe something so outlandish.

Peter sighed as he looked away from the curtain, where all his dreams were mere moments from coming true, as he tried to catch his breath and control his heart. He was starting to get the hang of this whole dating a girl out of his league thing, and she suddenly tried to pull this?

Their first official date, which didn't involve himself being tested by one or sometimes multiple members of the Mikos clan, had been going well so far, in Peters's limited experience in such an activity.

Miko had taken him to her favorite arcade, where she demolished him in a fighting game he had never heard of before, but one he was pretty sure she could formulate a religion around if how excitedly she spoke of the lore behind every character she chose.

Peter got her back on Dance Dance Revolution, their duet getting a small group of spectators looking on as the two danced to some city pop song Peter remembered from a video game he played in middle school.

Peter was the first to admit that he danced like a muppet from sesame street. However, it was still good enough to leave Miko, a girl who held eight of the previous top ten scores on the machine, flabbergasted by his "perfect score" when the song ended, as he took his rightful place at the top of the leaderboard.

Peter felt pretty good about himself until he heard the girl utter under her breath how she hoped his agility translated to the bedroom, which can he say was not the type of thing you say to a teenage boy who was barely holding it together?

Think of Aunt May...

Then she took him to her favorite restaurant, where she ordered all her favorite foods, which was a lot of food. The girl had an appetite on her the size of a pack mule, which was weirdly attractive in Peter's opinion, but that was probably because he found it weird when girls felt self-conscious about their eating habits when they were with a boy they liked.

Probably some dumb double standard Peter wasn't fully mature enough to understand. Still, Miko could eat and wasn't afraid to show it. But Peter had to admit, the ninja girl had some excellent tastes when it came to seafood.

He didn't think he could find snow crab legs that fresh anywhere in Queens.

But it was the moment after lunch when the two walked through the shop-filled streets when Miko saw her "favorite store in the whole world." that their date took a very different tone to it.

He really should have known something wrong would happen when he realized the clothing boutique they were in specialized in evening wear.

"How about this one, Petey." Miko said as she raised his hands over her head, running her thin fingers through her thick purple locks as she twirled her hips and pushed out her breasts, the silk lingerie she wore hiding nothing from Peters's wide eyes." I think you'll love it..."

Oh, he did. He really, really did. But, unfortunately, peter parker had somehow lost his ability to formulate complete sentences or proper nouns since the moment the purple-haired goddess pushed back the dressing room curtain, striking the type of pose that made Peter feel like the need for an ice-cold shower soon approaching.

Pure white flesh contrasted with the thin dark silk that hung off her body, her plump thighs hugging against long purple stockings begging for Peter to peel off as he let himself be swallowed up by the buxom and curvy vision in front of him.

How someone could convey so much sexual desire in one cute pout on her face was beyond Peters's area of expertise or understanding as he let out a few words and sounds that hopefully conveyed his approval of her choice.

Thankfully the sounds were taken as positive as Miko gave him a blinding smile on her face as she pulled him into a "rather generous hug" and whispered into his ear." I'm glad you like it; hopefully, you'll see it soon."

...Oh crap

While Miko had been all in with their engagement since she introduced him to her parents, Peter was somewhat hesitant, and who could blame him? Who got engaged the first time meeting someone?

Although Mikos's parents were a bad example, their engagement had been agreed upon before either of them was born; they were clearly not in a normal situation regarding their loving union. But after a long night filled to the brim with a lot of drinking and feasting while learning about the type of guy Peter was, her parents agreed the two were moving too fast.

At least publicly, they did.

In private, they were very vocal regarding their opinion that he was already married to their daughter and already part of the family, wedding ceremony or not. Going so far as to call him the "son they always wanted

" and the type of man they were proud to call the father of their future grandchildren.

Honestly, he had made an excellent first impression on them, something he was proud of if he was honest.

Miko was upset but softened once Peter said he couldn't get married and have a wedding without the woman who raised him in attendance. The ninja clan was apparently huge on matriarchal respect and honoring mothers. Peter's insistence on holding off any potential marriage or even going "too far" in relationship progression had actually done gangbusters regarding his standing with Miko's family.

Did he mention he made a good first impression on his possible future in-laws? Because Peter felt the need to reiterate that fact. He may have made the best first impression on the history of demon marriage pacts, which his new girlfriend's friends told him was a long and somewhat illustrious list.

"You know, if you dont want Miko to be all over you," a voice spoke to Peter from his left, the New York native did not even need to turn to see the smile on the young woman's face." You should stop being so cute when you get flustered."

To Peters's immense relief, Miko's older sister, Miyu Mido, was a full-fledged human, one of the few he had met since Miko had "introduced" him to her family. The older woman had been a lifesaver in dealing with the mind field of demonic marriage laws his life was quickly becoming.

One such tradition, the reason Miyu was here with them that needed to be followed, was the enforced threat of annulment regarding the celibacy of all parties involved in the potential marriage during the courting period. The tradition went back hundreds of years of the clan's history. It was supposed to ensure a long and happy marriage and a nearly 100 percent chance of impregnation on the honeymoon. So now that was something Peter had to be concerned about, and while Peter was quite confident that he had the willpower to control himself when he wasn't freaking out at the mere mention of sex, Miko, on the other hand, was...more worried regarding any possible actions she may want to, or try to do, during this emotionally charged and confusing period.

This was why Miko had asked her sister to chaperone their date, to have someone help Miko control her urges regarding alone time with her pseudo-in technicity but sure-fire behind-the-scenes fiance.

"I appreciate the advice."Peter responded once he regained control of his cracking voice, giving the slightly older woman a small smile." I'm glad I dont have to deal with family members who hate me, surprisingly."

"I'm just glad no one scared you off yet," Miyu said idly, looking through a rack of sundresses, trying hard not to go with her instincts and buy everything that caught her eye. It would not be the first time the up-and-coming drama actress had to eat instant ramen multiple times a day to make rent for the month because she just "Had to have it" towards too many articles of clothing at once. "Mikos first real boyfriend, and he didn't run away? What a relief,"

"Yeah, I'm not the easily scared type." Peter bluffed, knowing full well he was in the middle of a barely controlled freakout because seriously, he was out lingerie shopping with not just one, but two bombshells."Besides, it's easy to see Miko loves her family. I trust her judgment."

Peter had to admit that the truth about Miko's family and lineage was a big, and he meant a big pill to swallow. But hey, he follows the Viking god of thunder on Instagram and once talked to a talking Raccoon with a Brooklyn accent and custom-made fully automatic space shotgun and his Ent blood brother/stepson.

He'd seen some shit.

"I do as well, but I'm going, to be honest with you," Miyu said, her voice wistful as her mind traveled away from the conversation at hand for a moment before crashing back down in a flash." I was always worried that Miko would bring a boy home that didn't...fully accept her for who she was and that she could get her heart broken. My sister moves far too quickly for her own good sometimes."

Peter could see the worry. After all, if he hadn't been as experienced as he was when dealing with the manner of crazy out there in the world, he might have been scared of the moment Lord Humungus started calling him "My boy" after their first "friendly" wrestling match when the demon king had been maybe a little too drunk the night of the engagement party.

But his Aunt didn't raise someone who gave up quickly. She raised an idiot, sure, but she didn't raise a quitter.

"Hey now, you're not talking to a guy who hasn't been around the block." the young man said in mock indignation, his over-the-top words enough to get a laugh from the famous actress. "I've seen my fair share of crazy stuff. I'm used to it."

"Ohhh! Is Peter-San hiding a deep dark secret!" she mischievously asked as she picked up a particularly riske-looking blouse that could barely be considered clothing where Peter came from." You better be careful if girls find out a cutie like you has a dark past. Miko might have more competition on her hands than she initially thought."

Peter blushed at the implication; truthfully, he was never an expert on the fairer sex. He hadn't even gone on a date before this one that didn't involve fighting a supervillain or stopping a crime from happening. The idea of being on one date, which was going great, by the way, with a hot, quirky, and totally into him ninja and then having her super hot older sister openly flirt with him while your ninja girl was trying on lingerie was..well... it just sounded fake when he said it to himself out loud.

But it was actually happening!

"I don't know about that." Peter said with a blush, trying as hard as he could remain upright and awake as the drama actress continued to look at him like he was Thor or Captain America." I'm lucky to have someone like Miko interested in a guy like me.

That was true; he was still puny Parker, the guy who got picked last in gym class despite his functioning superpowers and couldn't go a day without messing something up for someone. Some of him still thought he had stolen the best years of his Aunt's life when she chose to raise him after the death of his parents.

And what did he do to thank her? He got her husband killed.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm just broken, you know?"Peter said, talking more to himself than the older girl beside him. "But Miko is just so happy and kind that, I don't know, she just makes me happy to be around her, you know?."

Peter didn't like going too far into his personal problems; who wanted to hear stuff like that? That was the type of thing that made things get awkward quickly. It especially wasn't the type of thing you said to your ninja girlfriend's older sister when she was only hanging around you to make sure that Peters's hands were kept where her eyes could see them at all times.

"..wow." Miyu said, a blush on her face as she stared at the young man in front of her, a thousand thoughts running through her mind as the boy transformed from her "baby sister cute boyfriend" into an adonis with a dark past, one who seemingly checked all of her boxes." You can be pretty cool sometimes. You know that?"

The boy blushed at the older woman's words; the concept of compliments from pretty girls was still new enough in his life that he still didn't know how to respond appropriately. So he did what he did whenever he was nervous or didn't know what to do.

He opened his big stupid mouth and told a terrible joke.

"How can I not be cool," Oh god, did he do the finger gun thing? Oh god, he did the finger gun thing; what was he seven?" when I have you as my biggest fan?"

Peter cringed at his joke, but he had gone this far without making an ass of himself. Unfortunately, the law of averages clearly stated he was due for an embarrassing fuck up sooner rather than later.

*snort*

Peter opened his eyes again to see Miyu, not cringing at his poor attempt at comedy or even a look of disappointment crossing her delicate features as she looked for a subtle way to leave without hurting Peter's feelings. Instead, he saw the young woman doubled over, trying her hardest to control her undignified snorts of barely contained laughter.

Did she find him funny? Did he find someone besides Ned, MJ, or that weird mercenary hanging around the big metal guy on the X-men that found him funny? What does he do with this information? Dare he go further?

"I knew my stand-up was bad, but I didn't know it was make someone lose their balance bad."

Get it? Stand up that makes you lose your balance? Peter wasn't going to quit his day job.

She snorted again; her eyes were wide as she took another step away from him, as her body erupted into another round of tremors. Then, finally, she hugged herself as she bit down on her lips, the girl loved her puns, and for the life of him, Peter couldn't help himself whenever he found himself an audience who appreciated his comedic skills.

"Please stop..." Miyu squeaked out, finally regaining her composure as she smiled lovingly at the younger man before her. Nothing entirely set a woman's heart a flutter like a man who could make her laugh. " I have the ugliest laugh and would hate for you to hear it."

"Oh, come on." Peter said, looking into Miyus's eyes as he spoke to her, unknowingly making the famed drama actress feel like she was the only woman on earth." "Nothing about you is ugly. I'm sure your laugh is adorable."

It was that moment when the familiar feeling of his "Spidy sense" blared to life, the world slowing to a crawl as his body moved faster than the blink of an eye. He slid back towards the dressing room curtains, raising his hands just below his chest as the familiar head of purple hair fell through the curtain. The ninja goddess in Peter's hands would have taken a head-first dive onto the floor if not for her hero...

...god, he was corny...

"My hero!"" Miko said lovingly, her eyes shining bright as she stared up at him in ways that did many things to his insides. The more he thought about her beautiful eyes, the less chance to think about how Miko wasn't wearing anything below her chest right now and that she was looking at him the way she was looking at him...

Think of Aunt May, think of Aunt May...

The two sisters shared a look and nodded their heads to one another regarding a question Peter didn't even know had been asked. It was a look that didn't set off Peters's spider-sense, but in retrospect, it should have. Miko smiled at him, the same small smile she wore every time she thought he wasn't looking at her, even though he couldn't help but look at her every chance he got. It was the same smile she gave him right before they shared their first kiss.

...holy crap, was that only four days ago?!

"Ooooooh, Peter," Miko said as she leaned into him, her lean form almost melting into his own. Seriously did she not care that they were in public AND her sister was watching them? "Would you please excuse us for a moment? We need to have some girl talk for a little bit. Is that okay?"

Oh god, she was using that same sexy pout again; oh lord almighty, he could feel his knees quake at the thought of those cute lips planting kissing all over his body as she... okay, that was enough thinking about that sort of thing while out in public or he was going to ruin whatever good reputation he had with the two ten out of tens he was with at that moment.

So Peter, not trusting his ability to speak, nodded his head, his spine tingling as he sat back down at the sound of the girls giggling to themselves as they closed the curtain. Did...did girls do this type of thing usually?

Did... Did girls have "girl talk" in the same dressing room while one girl was trying on different pairs of underwear?

Oh god, Aunt May is going to kill him.


Her Peter was perfect.

That was the only thought that resonated in miko mido, the heiress of the ancient and honorable clan of the Miroku shinobi and the Shikima school of ninjitsu. Her fiance, she had a freaking fiance! She felt like a princess from a fairy tale, was easily the best guy she had ever met.

The type of guy any kunoichi worth her

salt would kill for the chance to be with if Miko was honest.

"I must say I'm pretty jealous right now," the voice of her best friend, and eternal rival, Fubuki Kai, spoke the morning after Miko's engagement party. Miko was home in the apartment she shared with her older half-sister Miyu when her best friends, Fubuki and Yaku, entered to "discuss" the previous night's events." A guy like that doesn't come around too often..."

Or, to be blunt, Miko acted as den mother for her three closest compatriots as they drank away their sorrows because Miko had not only bag herself a husband first out of all of them but had managed to bag a man of such high quality it boggled the mind how he had seemingly appeared from out of nowhere.

Miko suppressed a smug smile from her friend's words, but now was not the time to grow complacent, not when the love of her life was in front of her; this was the time to spread the love to those around her, not to take it all for herself.

This was why Miko Mido, mistress of the sexual arts and heiress to the shinobi lineage of her foremothers, hatched a plan with the three women.

Miko knew she had issues looking past men's inherent flaws; the goddess knew full well that in the past, Miko had put too much effort into men who weren't, let's be honest, weren't good enough to be in her presence, let alone her hand in marriage.

She was scared that Peter was just like the other boys Miko "fell in love with" over the years and that Mikos desired to be in the relationship or that her dreams had blinded her to whatever issue or toxic quality Peter may have held.

She didn't want to be like the rest of the girls in her class who talked about their boyfriends, the type of boys who left you on read-in-text conversations for days or would cancel scheduled dates at the last minute.

Or the type of boy who, for instance, when a girl worked up her courage to ask them out on a date, would refuse because the girl in question wasn't as tall as one of the girls on the volleyball team, like Kasumi or Momo.

Miko wasn't bitter, thank you very much.

But god, oh mighty, Peter might be the real Grade A man of Mikos dreams. First, her mother, the most intelligent woman Miko knew, blessed her for her taste in men, something she had never done before. Her grandmother and sensei in the art of the way of the Miroku shinobi had not so subtly been speaking of how cute "purple-haired little girls with warm brown eyes would be" or "how grand it would be to fill the halls of their family home with the laughter of many, many little ones." whenever the clan elder knew Miko or Peter were in earshot. What else could that mean besides telling Miko to jump the poor boy the first chance she had and to ring him dry?

For the future of her family, of course.

"You were right!" Miyu said with a light smile as she watched the teenage boy from the dressing room curtain." He's perfect."

Her sister had been the lynchpin, the slightly older full-blooded humans opinion meant the world to the young kunoichi, and if the barely contained bedroom eyes Miyu had been giving Peter throughout the day was anything to go by, the boy had undoubtedly passed his secret test with flying colors.

"I know, right?" Miko said with a smile, hiding her scarlet blush as she watched Peter be Peter momentarily. Her Peter radiated the energy that made Miko want to drag the man into the nearest love hotel and let him rock her world until the sun rose tomorrow morning.

But she promised Peter that the marriage could wait until later. While she knew she was in love with Peter, Miko knew from experience that other people entered a relationship at different speeds.

Which just gave her that much more time to prepare.

"So you're sure about this, are you, Miko?" her sister said with a blush as she turned to the still-distracted form of her younger half-sister." I wouldn't dare wish to get in between you and your future husband."

It was an ancient tradition, one rarely used by any of the previous leaders of the Miroku clan, but one always open for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Or, as Mikos mother once called it, the "Harem route." A clause in the customary traditional marriage rites the Miroku clan followed allowed the clan leader, i.e., Miko, to form a harem containing her most trusted allies and companions if her husband was considered worthy enough.

And of the past few days of training, testing, and studying the type of man Peter Parker was, Miko would have a time and a half supply the future father of her many daughters and sons, enough women to keep him happy and satisfied.

A man who could overpower her father in a wrestling match, a wrestling match that lasted for nearly half a day mind you, was a man who could not be satisfied with one woman, despite Mikos's desire to give it the old college try as her grandmother always said.

Miko stared at Miyu with a serene look, as if the sexually trained shinobi had reached Nirvana and had been told the universe's secrets by the Buddha herself. Miyu was a fantastic person, the best sister and housemate a girl could ask for, and the most honest-to-goodness decent person Miko had ever met.

But her sister was terrible when it came to her taste in men, and by god, Miko was just the right person to help a sister out when help was to be given. Besides, the concept of having a guy to share with her sister had always been a concept Miko wanted to explore the moment she realized she had a sister.

"How could I possibly be happy when I knew my sister didn't have a man in her life that looked at her the way she deserved to be looked at," Miko said, getting a tad misty-eyed at the sound of her own words. Miko only had Peter in her life for a couple of days, and those days were the happiest of her life. How could she not share that happiness with all her friends? "You deserve to be as happy as I am, Miyu."

"Oh, Miko, I dont know what I did to deserve the world's best little sister," Miyu said as she wrapped her arms in a loving hug to her little sister and best friend, the same little sister who had given her the greatest gift a girl could ask for

A puppy dog of a human being with the body of a swimsuit model, the endurance of a god, and the potential sexual prowess to enslave every woman he came across.

Truly the perfect man.

"By being the best big sister in the world!" Miko said, oh god, she was crying now! She promised her mother she wouldn't cry but was so happy right now!" Oh, come here, Miyu!"

The two sisters embraced, their smiles radiating, their minds and thoughts filled with images of a double wedding, the sisters in matching white shiromukus as their families and friends, humans and demons alike, celebrated their love together with one another.

A short two-month honeymoon at an all-exclusive beach resort somewhere tropical where the water was as blue as sapphires and clear as glass would soon follow. Miko and Miyu would make love to their shared husband on the beach's warm sand, in the crystal clear water of the sea, and in every single room and square inch of their honeymoon suite.

Then they were going to get weird.

They were going to be experimental; they were going to do things with their bodies that Miko and Miyu had never done for anyone before, and in places that would make even the wildest exhibitionist not trained in the art of ninjitsu blush at the very thought of where they were going to make love.

Miko had already changed her diet, eating more citrus and fruits than usual to increase her blood flow. In addition, she had been training exclusively in cardio to improve her already incredible stamina until it reached new heights.

Her Peter would need a double set of seat belts as the Mido sisters rode him until the break of dawn, and they were both filled to the brim with everything Peter could give them. But, considering what Miko had learned from her family's investigation regarding her future husband, she couldn't wait for Petey to ruin her for other men.

But more importantly, Miko and Miyu would be able to share in their happiness together as sisters. Because when they were together, the two young women felt like they could do anything.

That included Peter Parker.


Peter was concerned.

He wasn't an expert on "girl talk," because why would he be? But he was sure that girl talk didn't require this much crying when you're doing it in a public space.

Peter watched as the boutique saleswoman, the same woman who had introduced herself to the couple when they had entered the store, had been getting some noise complaints regarding the waterworks coming from the direction where Peter was the only person visible.

He didn't know enough Japanese to be able to talk to the cop that would soon be called over to deal with the troublesome foreigner without a passport or even an ID to his name.

"Guys, I think the employees are talking about us." Peter said, trying to figure out why the two girls had suddenly broken into tears only a few minutes after needing to speak to one another." You guys okay..."

Whatever Peter was going to say was lost as he was pulled into the loving embrace of the beautiful women in his company, their long pale arms traveling all over his body as they whispered into his ears, Miko to Peter's left and Miyu on his right.

He had a sinking suspicion this wasn't how most first dates ended.

"Congratulations Petey," Miko said as she slid her tongue over Peters's lips, the feeling enough to make Peter lose his mind. "On gaining your second wife. You lucky*kiss* lucky*kiss* boy."

"I've never felt this way before about anyone," Miyu said, her voice a sultry whisper that felt as soft as velvet to peters ears. She pushed her thick and voluptuous body close to him, her eyes almost begging him to do whatever he wanted to her. "Please be gentle with me."

THINK OF AUNT MAY! THINK OF AUNT MAY!

"I hope you*kiss* dont *kiss*mind."Miko said as she continued to kiss up and down Peters's neck, her purple lipstick staining his skin and the hem of one of the t-shirts Miko had purchased for him during his stay in Japan as her hands traveled over each muscle of Peters's powerful arm." But as clan leader and your first wife, I am responsible for building you the perfect stock for your seed."

Peter said nothing as his mind slowly shut down as it tried to process what Miko had just said. Only one solid thought seemingly crossed his mind as he felt the two women's hands become bolder and bolder.

Aunt May was going to murder him.


Hey, look, it's an update. That's it. That's the author's note.

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