Brown and Green | Olivia Octavius x Reader
Summary: After the accident with the collider, you end up on Earth 1610 in the Alchemax building. Dr Olivia Octavius is here to greet you. You can't help but notice all the resemblances with your own Octavius.
Ao3 Link
Warnings: shameless smut, no genitalia specified, no pronouns specified (reader), tentacle sex, restraints, orgasm denial, overstimulation, fantasising, non-native writer
I hesitated posting it here, but we don't post non-beta'd shit to be a coward. I wrote this in a few hours and took three days to resign myself and just post it. But after seeing Across the Spider-Verse, I had to re-watch the first one and I was, once again, hit in the face by my bisexuality and my obsession towards Dr Octavius. Tell me I'm not the only one...
Oh, reader is part of the Spider-Verse, I wrote with no gender nor genitalia in mind, I hope everyone can enjoy it!
Ok. Let’s do this one more time, shall we?
My name? Not really important because for the last few years, I’ve been the one and only Spiderman. You all know the story by now: being bitten by a radioactive spider which suddenly allows you to skip workout, the loss of a loved one... The usual Spidey-stuff.
I shoot my webs; I swing from Brooklyn to Queens to the Bronx to stop supervillains, rescue cats stuck in trees and help your grandma cross the road.
One day as I was doing my super-work, something weird happened: a flash of light and boom, I was in New York. But not my New York, a new New York. As for where I crashed, well–
“You seem tensed, Spiderman.”
You can feel your bones crack as those weirdly smooth, plastic-y tentacles wrap tighter and tighter around you.
“You, ow–” you hiss, out of breath. “You could say that.”
A shimmering laugh answers you and it’s just so weird. But after all, what could you expect from a parallel universe? You still have a hard time wrapping your head around the whole concept of dimension warping… and alternate versions of your enemies.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Dr Olivia Octavius.” She draws closer, that ridiculously hot smirk at the corner of her lips.
Fuck, can you concentrate for once?
“It sounds like you already knew the answer,” she says. With her free hands, she pulls her curly hair up, rebellious strands framing her face. Is amazing hair a multi-universal law for all Doc Ocks?
“‘Can’t say that I did–” you pause as long gloved fingers slide under the edge of your mask. “Hey! That’s a no-no, lady!”
She snaps the mask right off your face, an interested glimmer in her eyes. You feel like a mouse spread apart for dissection and she sure looks ready to whip out a scalpel. Was she really hiding a complete latex suit underneath her clothes? Not to be the one to pat supervillains on their shoulders to congratulate them on a job well done, but she really mastered the inconspicuous chemistry teacher cosplay.
Focus.
“It is quite fortunate that your portal opened here,” Octavius says conversationally as she readjusts her gloves. “I would have hated to run after you everywhere in the city.”
“Oh, you know me.” Your shrug looks like an uncontrolled twitch of your shoulder. “Always glad to help.”
“Indeed,” she chuckles. She grabs your face, inspecting it from every angle, ignoring your string of offended words. At the corner of your eye, an actuator reaches for a– ah, there is the scalpel. “Now…”
Oh hell no…
“Hey! Hey lady–“ Struggling is pointless and the more you try, the more she grins. “Olivia– can I call you Liv’?”
Octavius laughs. “Only my friends call me Liv.”
“We can be friends I’m sure.” You make sure to put on your best smolder. It looks painfully ineffective. “Or, you know, we can come to an arrangement.”
She raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t answer. She’s not considering it, is she? That’d be a lucky day for the smolder – not that it doesn’t usually work of course (It doesn’t.) You keep smiling but her slow approach makes all your senses – spider and regular, tingle. It takes all of your brain power to tame your fight-or-flight response and not recoil as much as you can.
Are you seriously sweating right now?
“Oh, that’s rich.” Her smile is predatory. “Is it a usual Spiderman tactic to try to seduce their enemies?”
The actuators tighten even more around your torso. The discreet cough you let out widens her smile.
Toothy.
“Perhaps not in your universe.”
You’re relieved when the scalpel is dropped carelessly on the table behind her. Even more relieved when the tentacles lessen their grip around you. Your relief is soon replaced by surprise as one of them curls slowly around your left leg. It’s definitely better than being cut open, right?
“Alright, little spider.” Octavius stares down at you. “I’ll entertain the idea.”
Right?
In a blur, she steps in between your legs, helped by the arm holding your limb hostage. “And to answer your question…” Her hand comes to rest in the dip of your hip, feeling up muscles under her fingertips. Somehow it’s this simple gesture that sends a strong shiver through your nervous system.
“You can call me ‘Doctor’ from now on.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Liv.” The actuator tightens around your throat. “Doctor!”
A low laugh answers you. And that’s just not fair. Octavius has you in the most vulnerable state you’ve ever been in. Except perhaps that time when you had to face Captain Stacy, near the corpse of your bestfrie— oops, no, wrong mind folder. The most physically vulnerable you’ve ever been then.
“You never stop talking, do you?”
Earlier, Octavius had taken all the time in the world to push your arms out of your suit, her actuators handling you like a puppet, until your torso was bare for her to enjoy. You did try to yank at the tentacles keeping both your arms secured behind your back but thanks to whatever kind of sick machinery she put in them, they just wouldn’t budge. You were genuinely impressed at the technology allowing those arms to both be flexible and unbreakable. Even your Octavius had to favor titanium steel when he built his own.
The actuator that isn’t wrapped around your throat – a menacing yet tantalizing statement, or holding your limbs down, creeps from the top of your thigh to your chest, not unlike a viper chasing for its food.
Ah yes, the situation at hand.
“To be fair,” you huff. “You love to hear yourself talk as well.”
“You seem to know a lot about me, little spider.” Her hand travels from your hip to the underside of your right thigh. “Altercations with my alter-self then?”
You chuckle, a breathy fucking embarrassing thing. “Oh, plenty.”
Your suit pools uncomfortably at the bottom of your stomach, the sleeves flapping underneath you. It must be so practical to have strong mechanical arms capable of holding your enemy one meter above the ground without even breaking a sweat. But you feel way too warm. Isn’t it hot right now? Isn’t she hot?
Oh, she definitely is, submit your traitorous mind.
“I’m sure we must have been tormenting you intensely.” She giggles, examining a large scar running from your pectoral to your lower belly. With a finger, she traces it like words on paper.
“That’s from you, actually.”
Your Octavius had looked so smug when it happened.
She looks up, smirking. “His actuators are way more pointy than yours,” you explain.
The double-entendre doesn’t go unnoticed, but she doesn’t comment. “Actuators, uh? I haven’t heard this denomination in a while, since my research paper on radioactivity in fact.”
“Yeah, I did my homework.”
You exhale shortly when the teasing actuator wrapped itself around your middle section allowing the others to tug at your suit. Octavius stopped her reverential petting to observe the spandex clinging to your skin, slowly displaying your legs and your underwear-clad pelvis like an exhibit. A free one at that, with free food and everything.
“So,” Octavius asks after discarding the suit to a corner of the room. “What’s the name of my counterpart?”
Both her hands come resting on your legs again. “Otto,” you mutter through clenched teeth.
“Funny,” she says, taking her sweet time feeling your backside muscles. She likes to grope, doesn’t she? “That’s the name of my father.”
Your nose wrinkles. “Ew, what a way to kill the mood, lady.”
Strangely, she doesn’t mention your slip, simply laughing while resting her palm on your– nether regions. The mood is far from being killed however judging by the humiliating wetness spreading through your underwear. She presses her palm down a little forcefully, and you moan loudly. Raising an eyebrow, it’s with a certain – perhaps misplaced – curiosity that she alternates between stroking up and down and toying with the tips of her fingers any potentially sensitive region. And you can’t contain the noise.
To be fair, you’ve never really been ashamed of anything.
There’s a daze settling in your mind, a fog behind your eyes as you only focus on the diffuse pleasure settling down there. You’re pulsating, every blood vessel tight, engorged as a blush spreads on your skin. You’re drifting, fuck– you’re so–
“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”
You don’t have time to reflect on the fact that you obeyed so eagerly because her touch's gone and it's the only thing you can focus on at the moment. She knows that too because her smugness is plastered all over her face – some things never change, and you want to cum all over her arrogant little smile.
“That’s–” you struggle to catch your breath. “So uncool.”
“The arrangement is you get out of here alive and I,” Octavius smirks. “get to do what I want with you.”
The shiver that travels through you speaks volumes. So the key to the ultimate fuck was ‘travel to a parallel universe’ all along? Talk about a joke.
“Now.” She straightens up, towering over you. “Tell me a little more about your Otto.”
The tentacles raise you higher in the air, pushing your hips at almost eye-level to Octavius.
“Self-centered much?” You joke, trying to ignore the actuator crawling along your leg.
“Curious,” she replies, enjoying the show. “You didn’t go around flexing those beautiful muscles in front of his face, did you?”
“What–” You try not to blush but fuck– it’s hard to concentrate when there’s the equivalent of an alien tentacle nuzzling you through your underwear. “Hey! I’m a very respectable – ah!, person ok?”
She laughs loudly at that. “It’s not a no, is it?”
“It’s part of the job!” You huff, avoiding eye contact. “Nothing ever happened with Otto. I care about my life, you know.”
“But not enough to avoid trying your ridiculous seduction tactics on me?”
You wonder if there’s a sliver of internalized misogyny reprimanded somewhere but, in your defense, the smooth head of the actuator now slowly creeping towards your opening is hard not to focus on.
“Worth a shot?” you pant.
You let out a surprised groan as the rough feeling of your underwear breaches your entrance, pushed inside by the blunt head of the mechanical arm. Not nearly enough to truly be inside but the movement is a warning at worst, a promise at best.
For fuck’s sake, listen to yourself.
As the actuator keeps pushing against your hole, you’re assaulted by the wet sound your garment does as it moves. It’s reminiscent of your evenings alone in your shitty apartment when you have enough time to tease the shit out of you. And as Octavius’ hand is back on your crotch, sensations and recollections drive you mad, spilling moans and gasps from your open mouth. Are you going to cum just like this? Groped through your pants and your hole teased like a fucking teenager? You’re too old for that.
Octavius hums to herself, observing you and cataloguing all your reactions as she would do for her research. Her undivided attention on you is exhilarating, and you watch her through half-lidded eyes wishing you could see the curious glint in those wide brown pupils.
What the fuck?
“You seem out of it, Spiderman.” She chuckles. “Drifting away?”
You gulp. “You could say that.”
It’s like she can see right through you. “Fuck– I’m–”
She suddenly disengages, leaving you once again panting, muscles tensed under smooth plastic. “Oops,” she giggles. “Butterfingers.”
You can only stare, heart skipping a beat. She couldn’t possibly have–
“Let me help you with that.”
In seconds, she discards you of any remaining pieces of clothing, holding you upright in all your naked glory. Still dizzy from everything, the touches, the words, you don’t say anything.
“Well then.” She tilts her head to the side. “Spider got your tongue?”
As latex-clad fingers dip inside your mouth before you can even muster a clever answer, you let out a moan, obsessed with the slick feeling of spit on her gloves. Lost in thought, a smooth arm soon takes its rightful place on your groin, pocking, rubbing and your sex glistens, sticky and sensitive to the air. Octavius keeps pressing her fingers down your tongue, sampling every single strand of your DNA when she pulls them away. Now that she’s so close, you can see her green eyes through her goggles. Wait, green?
“Have I finally broken you, little spider?”
Her laugh is supposed to be taunting but it just releases another spike of arousal through your whole body as if she somehow managed to alter your genes, confuse every nerve. Your entire self had changed with a single bite from a radioactive spider, who said you couldn’t go through the same process all over again?
“Not by a long shot,” you chuckle breathlessly.
“If I’d known it’d be this easy…” Her wet fingers graze against a hard nipple and you bite your tongue to not release another embarrassing noise. “Perhaps your Otto should take lessons.”
You let out a breathy moan, weak against the surge of all those sensory attacks and perhaps from the superposition of brown and green, tiptoeing the leyline linking her universe to yours. Unlike him, she seems to see right through you, deciphering the codex of your fantasies with a single look.
“You should describe him to me.”
“What?” you sutter. “What for–”
The twist sears through you, making your knees shake, pleasure distorting pain. The actuator against your throat tightens imperceptibly, just enough to make you remember its presence.
“Come on,” she whispers. “Are we alike?”
You scoff. “Not at all. He’s…”
A pain in the ass. Always in the way, always stealing money, always speaking about grand schemes and higher purposes. Completely mad, a total whacko, undeniably intelligent, brilliant–
“Tall.”
It makes her laugh. The touch of the actuators against your feverish skin is almost enough to cool it down. “And?”
“Uh, large?” you mutter. “He’s like a mountain or– something…”
One hand keeps playing with your nipples as the other traces random figures along your stomach which, you realize, aren’t random at all but just the complex network of your battle marks. When she runs a finger along the scar adorning your torso, you gasp softly and her gaze is all-knowing. Octavius drives you insane, and you’ll soon be complete putty in her hands, using your body as she pleases while you’re assaulted with visions of large hands and uncovered skin.
“He has uh…”
Get a fucking grip.
“Uh, he has short brown hair.”
You realize that her spit-covered fingers have travelled all the way down when she uncaringly presses a digit inside. Breath knocked out of your chest, you still hiss at the dry and unpleasant sensation but the lone actuator is quick to distract you again. When you think you had enough time to gather all your unholy thoughts and the remnants of your oxygen, her finger is joined by another, spreading you open.
“What else?” she asks, focused on her task.
You sigh, annoyed. “He has brown eyes–”
The actuator’s head suddenly splits open, revealing four small appendages and the opening of the tube that controls it. It stares at you, almost mocking, and you can’t take your eyes off it before it starts to dip down.
“Wait, wait, what do you think you’re doing–”
The echo of Octavius’ laugh is registered far at the back of your mind as the arm traps the entirety of your sex like the mouth of a carnivorous plant on a powerless bug. You feel it suck, making you throb, sputtering everywhere. The rippling of the plastic membrane makes it look alive as if it was waiting to swallow everything your body has to offer.
“Whe– where they even– fuck!, designed for th–ah!”
Octavius retreats her fingers, laughing again before getting rid of her right glove with her teeth. You try not to dwell on how filthy it is.
Fuck, it’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever seen.
The suction on your crotch increases and now you can only pant, gasp and droll everywhere. It's a sensation like no other, making you ignore everything else. Nails dip in your cheeks as Octavius grabs your chin to look at you, pride of your current state written all over her face.
“His eyes, you said?”
You want to kill her. “His– eyes?”
“Yes.” She giggles. “I don’t think you finished your sentence.”
You want to kiss her.
The actuator around your throat releases you, leaving you gasping for air. But your relief is brief as it soon slides against your loosened hole, slowly but surely pressing in.
‘They’re– they’re,” you stutter, arching towards her, brain devoid of any coherence. “Brown?”
She grips your face more forcefully and every sensation suddenly comes to a stop. “Have your brain already melted through your ears?”
You whine. “Ok, ok– they’re big, too gentle even–”
She smiles, a predatory thing. Aren’t spiders supposed to be predators? One good, strong suction on your crotch has you moaning so loudly you’re afraid all Achemax will come running in. “Beautiful– he’s–”
The actuator pushes inside smoothly, leaving you a shaking mess, split apart by the chaos of sensations running underneath your skin. No casual sexual encounter could have ever brought you to such a delightful, painfully aroused state. Your senses are attacked, assaulted from every direction as you’re watched, dissected under the gaze of an enemy. Octavius takes immense pleasure watching you completely surrender to her, and you can’t not picture the smug crooked smile of her counterpart in the wrinkles at the corner of her lips. There’s a lot that you could question about yourself if you hadn’t left your higher brain functions under the hands – and the tentacles, of a magnificent opponent.
“I think you have some self-reflection to do, little spider.”
You register the press of her lips late. Still holding your chin in a death grip, she kisses you like a snake strikes its prey. Eyes rolling back as she sinks her teeth into your lower lip, you arch strongly towards her, arms hurting for being held down for so long, legs spasming and chest heaving. Her tongue plunges into your mouth and she sucks at your lips not unlike how her actuators pump in and out of you, suck you dry, drive you insane…
Suddenly, she draws back, exhaling harshly against your reddened lips and you can feel her body moving forward. You only have the time to register that her hips are trusting against the actuator stuck to your crotch before she grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls harshly.
“Come on,” she pants in the crook of your neck. “Break down, sweetheart.”
You come like this, lightning travelling up your spine as you release on the mouth of the actuator, overstimulated by the trusts inside of you and the feeling of Octavius’ teeth on your skin. You spasm like an insect trapped in a web, a mouse constricted by the body of a python, arching, trusting your hips up over and over as the arm milks your orgasm out of you. Your throat is raw, your tongue is heavy and all your muscles scream from overuse but you just can’t stop coming, wetness spreading against your groin. When the actuators finally move away, you drip all over the floor, as your sex pulses, crimson red and spent.
Breathing air like it’s the first time, you try your best to calm your beating heart as you’re finally free from the arms’ grip, lowered on a nearby chair. Octavius lets out a sigh, tugging a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear.
“Oh well.” She smiles. “Good, very good.”
She throws your suit at your face. “You better run, little spider.”
“Uh?” You put it back, ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs.
“This is my gift to you,” she says, putting on a clean glove. “You have five minutes before I hunt you down and use your body for my experiments.”
You laugh awkwardly, voice rough as you limp through the room. “I’ll be gone then. See ya, Doc!”
The giggle she lets out is hunting. As you swing away to central New York, the traces of her abuse all over your body, you think about your Octavius.
Perhaps you’ll try a new technique next time you meet.
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Doc Ock x Symbiote!Reader
→ Author’s Note: Requested this from another writer (that’s also really cool), and decided to also write my own version. No specified version of Ock, pre and post evil versions are mentioned.
→⚠ Warnings ⚠: unethical science,
→ Fandom: Unspecified
→ Genre: Headcanons
→ Pronouns: They/Them
The Backstory:
You were a scientist who worked on studying the organic matter samples Colonel Jameson had brought to earth. Unfortunately, one of those samples was capable of a lot more movement than originally believed.
Long story short: Some of it bonded with you, you quit soon after due to not wanting anyone to get suspicious then started working at Oscorp.
Pre Tentacles:
He, and almost every other co-worker, is a little bit curious about the fact that you quit your last job to work at Oscorp but drops the subject after the mention of an NDA (which wasn’t true)
Notices you talking to yourself a lot, but doesn’t question it much. Most of the scientists he works with have an odd habit or two.
You totally slip up and call yourself 'we' in a conversation, which he does bring up
"There's a perfectly reasonable explanation if you give me enough time to think of a lie."
On to the actual dating
You guys keep it on the down low and by that I mean absolutely nobody knows. He likes privacy
His love language is talking about his experiments and asking you about yours (and physical touch but that takes a while)
The symbiote makes the relationship difficult, especially because he doesn't know about it
You don’t ever tell him about the symbiote, the symbiote speaks for itself (literally, and to a disastrous extent)
He takes a while to process it, but once he does he shares his work on his tentacles
He tries not to think of the moral implications of the whole situation because he loves you and knows you wouldn't do harm intentionally (he is wrong)
Post Tentacles:
Ok so in most versions Otto goes missing for a brief time after the accident™
So what happens in this brief time?
Chaos. Pure chaos and fear
Not only are you distraught and angry but your symbiote also formed an emotional attachment
Absolutely no one gets a break. Criminals, civilians, co workers, Norman even Spider-Man
The streets are filled with nothing but fear and it stays like that until you get your Otto back
At which point:
Yay, evil power-couple time!
I mean what did you expect, you’re the host to a symbiote that eats people to survive and likes to commit crimes; there is almost nothing he could do that you either 1) haven’t already done or 2) had to literally fight yourself not to do
He changed after the accident, and it reminds you of when you first bonded with your symbiote. You try and be patient, knowing that he's still the same person, just with a different attitude and outlook on life.
With some communication skills being flexed, the relationship works out well
He also gains a new thing to be mad at the world about (Tabloids keep calling him a monsterfucker and so does your Symbiote)
It's that whole Roger and Jessica Rabbit thing except no one knows who's Roger or Jessica at any given moment.
You keep working at Oscorp to keep suspicions low and provide insider information
Yes, the suit makes you look very good - now do you want to be part of the Insidious Sinister Six or not?
You don’t want to fight Spider-Man head-on most of the time (much to the Symbiote's chagrin) so you agree to work with them, but not be on the team.
Anyway you end up kicking ass and now half the team is scared of you (Much to the Symbiote’s delight) (remember that episode in the 90s show were Venom Spider-Man almost kills Rhino and Shocker? Yeah you do something like that)
His ego may be nearing the size of the sun, but even then he’s slightly scared of what would happen if your symbiote gained full control. (Your symbiote likes him so his nerves are good, but still makes sure nothing happens that affects your memories)
Speaking of which he wants to do some - totally not evil because he loves you- experiments revolving around the Symbiote
Overall, the relationship is wholesome, if not unconventional.
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Being the spouse of a Supervillain
You're the only person who he won't hurt. Why would he? You've been at his beck and call since he couldn't remember when.
However, you feel that you're walking on eggshells at times when the actuators have control of his psyche.
He keeps urging you to move on, that there was no place for you here; in the rickety old building you've shared since he bought the place. He honestly doesn't want to see you have a close encounter with the reaper again.
That being, you stay put, that the man you married is still in there. The shadows of his smile is hidden behind that snarky smirk. Some of the -rarest- most quiet nights, are spent on the torn up couch. It's almost like nothing changed at all.
You put your life on pause for a moment, you didn't go into work at all for weeks. You knew there would be questions, there always would be.
When you do come into work, you were given reduced hours because your boss wanted you to mourn the man you once knew, you refrained from answering any of those prying your personal life for issues. You normally report them within a few days, and then they're working in a whole different complex.
Even if the actuators are permanently a part of him, it's still Otto. His habits are still there, no matter what he tries to tell you.
You've also noticed that the arms still respect their creator to some extent, they never lay a finger on you. If they grab you, they are slow and patient never brutal.
One time you had gotten bruised from the pressure that the arms gave when they placed you away from the project. They soon fell limp while Otto had the nastiest look on his face. He never looked at you when he was like this.
He is always a gentleman to you, through layers of frowning.
The actuators only want his project done, therefore your Otto is just their puppet. However, they see you as a distraction until the beings of machine realize that Otto is human.
So, there isn't long lunch breaks together as you're used to before this mess. However, he eats in silence; in fear of the actuators lashing out on you for just seemingly wanting shreds of your life with him before.
You don't comment on his encounters with Spider-Man, you know all too well that the superhero gets bad press on the regular. Not to mention, Otto- sorry, you end up correcting yourself when the actuators are in control- Ock isn't entirely fond of him.
You knew exactly when Otto was too tired to fight the AI influence, because there have been consecutive all nighters the closer the reactor gets to being completed.
The times when the actuators keep him glued to the desk are when you try to get him clothing and alter them to accommodate the four tentacles protruding from his lower back.
There was one night that you consider was very special within the past few months that his magnum opus welded themselves to his back.
He had found some of his old outfits that weren't destroyed, and pressed down any urges from the arms.
"May this broken man take you out on a date?" You were near tears as you accepted.
He brought you to the top of a building with a makeshift table. It reminded you of your first dinner with him back in college.
He tells you that he's going to find a way to remove the arms and start anew. He wanted you to buy an apartment and to bring him to it on a specific day.
Considering that he's fighting for his life to look like the man you knew and loved -although you've reassured him multiple times that you still love him- you agree in a heartbeat. Happy that you'll both have a semblance of what life was before this.
The day to pick him up from the docks comes and you find no sight of him or the shambles of your house. It's all deep in the river below.
You can't recall how long you stayed there, but you had to live on. Live, that's what he always wanted you to do.
It's very hard at first, but life goes on.
One night -you can't quite remember what day it was specifically- you got a knock on the door.
You open it a little and it's Otto, with a small smile, holding a bunch of flowers.
Tears are brought to your eyes as he walks in, "I had a feeling that you'd buy the one we got back then." Any snakiness left him when he realized that you thought he was dead.
He promises to explain everything, but tonight he holds you as long as you needed it.... you ended up holding him hostage in your bedroom until the next morning. Even then, you don't let him out of your sight for a while.
He then explains in terms that you both can understand -because he finds himself not believing anything of it even after he's here. He was brought to another world just like this one where he was given a new component that prevented the arms from taking him over.
So, he starts the rejuvenation process, and does the community work to get back into society. He's stayed off nuclear fusion snd stuck strictly to advanced robotics.
However, you both still stayed at that apartment you first owned with him years ago. Never wanting to live on the water again.
There was one day where he brought you all over town, he brought you to so many places you visited together in your past. He had to be careful of the press patrolling for him since he returned. A former supervillain and a scientific powerhouse? That get's the press moving all over the place.
He then brought you where it all started, and proposed to you again. "I stand before you as a changed man, I love you so much. Will you marry me one more time?"
How could you say no?
It seems that you still have to alter his new clothes, but you don't mind considering how much more appreciative since he doesn't go around shirtless anymore.
He's cautious when using the actuators, only having them clean up and not touch you. Until you reassure him multiple times that you are fine with it... a few months later he's using them to trap you in his embrace.
You have him back, a second chance, and neither of you are going to screw it up.
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