Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
just a reminder that this blog is run by someone who:
— is anti ICE & fascism
— is pro-choice & feminist
— supports trans & queer people
— hates generative AI & capitalism
— supports immigrants & people of color
— is pro-environmentalism & social justice
— supports palestine & all other territories unjustly suffering
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Peter Parker x fem!Stark!reader (established) / Johnny Storm x earth838variant!fem!reader
Based on this post by @jinjuonthebeat
Word count: 4.7k Masterlist
Summary: what is Johnny Storm supposed to do when he lands on Earth-616 and sees his dead fiancé holding hands with SpiderMan?
This is quite angsty. Reader is Tony’s daughter. Everything is cannon except No Way Home. Peter and reader are high school sweethearts but this is like 10 years later.
You walked into the conference room just like you did for all team meetings: in between your fiancee, Peter, and your best friend, Yelena. You were wrapped in one of your dad’s old Stark Industries hoodies that could be considered vintage at this point.
“Little Stark,” Thor greeted you, “my, how you have grown,” he pulled you in for an impossibly tight hug, “if only the circumstances were better.”
You gave him a smile before walking to your usual spot in the back.
Bucky was debriefing you all beside Thor as you tried your best to pay attention, but the doors flew open and behind Sam four people in blue and white suits gathered in.
When the aircraft landed this is the last situation Johnny Storm and the Fantastic Four expected to be in.
They were here for one reason and one reason only, to defeat Doom. But they were brought into the conference room and immediately spotted you.
The one who made them the Fantastic Five. The one who Johnny Storm loved so deeply, he never quite moved on.
Johnny wasn’t sure what to do. He was looking right at you. You were wearing clothes he had never seen before, and your hair wasn’t curly like it so often was.
People were introducing themselves all around the room, but he didn’t hear any of it.
He couldn’t speak, you said your name, the name he used to call you, the name he used to whisper at night. The name he proposed to. Your eyes were still so bright, the same way they were before he lost you.
Then his eyes went to your left hand.
That was not your ring. That was not the ring he had spent months carefully curating. And it couldn’t have been, because he buried you in it. The entire room was spinning.
Sue’s face was laced with concern and yours with confusion.
“Johnny,” she whispered softly, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, “Johnny it’s not her. She’s not from our earth.”
He took a deep breath. “Sue, what do you mean?” His breath became more ragged as he looked you up and down, eyes falling to where your body leaned against the brunette man standing beside you, “Sue it’s her.”
His voice cracked, and you couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt crawl up your throat.
“Johnny, we knew this. That there are different variants in different universes,” Reed said from beside them, he took a shaky breath, “we knew this would be a possibility.”
You reached for Peter’s hand, suddenly uncomfortable about the conversation being had about you.
Johnny’s hands went to his hair, pulling anxiously, “yeah— yeah Reed you said that, but you didn’t say she would be right here, or that I would have to — have to look at her.”
Sue stepped in front of him, placing both her hands on his biceps, “Johnny, she’s from this earth. Not ours, she’s not her, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was thick with emotion.
Johnny was trying to breathe, but it sounded more like he was gasping for air.
You weren’t sure what to do, Peter’s hand gripped yours tighter, an anxious habit he had. You looked to Bucky and Sam for some sort of help, some sort of explanation, but they were just as confused as you.
The large rock man approached Johnny’s side next, splaying a hand gently across his shoulder blades, “Johnny, let’s get some air, yeah?”
Johnny nodded quickly, needing an exit from the situation.
He murmured his apologies through his gasps for air. Ben guided him out of the conference room, gently closing the door behind him.
All eyes turned to Sue, who was looking at you with a look in her eyes you have seen over a million times at this point in your life, you know it because you see it in yourself sometimes when you look in the mirror. Her eyes were filled with grief.
She shook her head, trying to plaster a smile across her face, “I’m really sorry, it’s just a bit weird for us.”
Bucky huffed a laugh, “yeah we could say the same.”
Reed placed a supportive arm around his wife, “we lost someone, um back on our earth,” he said your name softly, Sue squeezed her eyes shut when he did, “she um, was Johnny’s fiancée when she passed. So it’s just weird seeing you here… like this.”
Bucky cleared his throat, stepping forward with Sam and Bruce.
You tried to bite back the tears that sat behind your eyes. You’re not sure if it was embarrassment, discomfort or what. But a chill climbed up your spine the second Reed spoke and it was sitting at the base of your neck like it belonged there.
Bucky began continuing as normal, Reed and Sue peeled their eyes from you and started participating in the group conversation.
“You okay?” Peter leaned over with his arms crossed over his chest, whispering just to you.
“That was weird,” Yelena says under her breath in a sing-song voice next to you.
“Yelena,” Peter warned.
You sighed, leaning against him, “I’m okay, just feel off, I don’t know.” You shrugged.
He unfolded his arms and slipped one over your shoulder, “I could imagine.”
You leaned further into him, trying to focus on the complexities of the challenge ahead, and not the weight on your chest.
The meeting carried on and plans were arranged on how to handle the situation that the Fantastic Four came all the way to your earth for.
You excused yourself as soon as the meeting was concluded. You couldn’t sit in that room with them for another minute. You pushed the door to your shared room open before promptly flopping onto the bed.
Peter softly closed the door behind himself, “I’m going to be completely honest with you here, this feels like uncharted territory.”
You huffed a laugh into the bed, “it’s definitely new.” Your voice was muffled by the comforter.
You felt the bed dip where Peter sat beside you.
You turned your head so that you were looking at him. He gave you an unsure smile.
”Is it weird that I feel bad?” You asked quietly.
He sighed, “I mean, you have nothing to feel bad about, but I’m definitely not surprised you do.”
You smiled at him.
“I don’t think your empathy came from your dad, I’ll just say that,” he smiled down at you.
“Ain’t that the truth,” you replied.
“But… at the same time, I think he was just better at hiding it than you are,” he added.
You sighed, you knew he was right. Tony Stark was many things, and an empath didn’t seem like one of them. But to the people that knew him best, he cared deeply.
You twisted your body so that you were now sitting shoulder to shoulder with Peter.
“Well, hi,” he said softly.
You smiled at him again, “any ideas on what to do when you meet someone from a different universe that claims you’re their dead lover?”
Peter let out a real laugh at your bluntness.
You laughed, but still maintained a look of frustration, hitting him in the bicep. Which probably hurt you more than it hurt him, “Pete, I’m being serious.”
He was still laughing, “I know you are, I just don’t think there’s rules written out on what to do here. Not that you’re known for following the rules anyway.”
You smirked, “if I followed the rules, we wouldn’t have dated,” recalling the time in high school when your father forbade you from seeing Peter.
Peter nodded, “yeah, I know, you like to bring that one up whenever I try to get you to follow rules.”
You smiled at him for a moment.
”Is it crazy if I go to talk to him?” You asked, breaking the momentary silence.
He shook his head, “no.”
You leaned over and kissed his cheek, “love you.”
He smiled, trying to hide his blush that still crept up his neck whenever you showed him any affection even after nearly ten years of being together, “love you more.”
When you first started “talking” in high school, you had expected the blush. But now, all this time later, you loved that he was still so affected by you.
You hopped off the bed and headed out to talk to Johnny.
You found him by himself on the roof. You’re not sure what brought you up here, but something guided you here.
He was bent over the railing, calmly looking out at the skyline. You took a moment to look at him before approaching him. You wondered what you were like on his earth if you were still you. Clearly not if you were a member of their team, and you were into blondes. You wondered if you were smart, if you had any family.
You shook your curiosities away. Exhaling sharply, you moved to stand beside him, also leaning on the railing.
He didn’t turn and look at you when you made your presence known.
“I’m sorry about that, that must have been a lot for you,” you said quietly, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your hoodie.
You turned your body to face him, and he slowly lifted his upper half off the railing to mirror you.
“An empath in every universe, I see,” he said calmly, there was a ghost of a smile on his face, “you have nothing to be sorry for.”
You gave him one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
You’re not sure what was possessing you, but you reached out and took his hand in yours. He seemed perplexed by the sudden touch. You swore his breath caught, his eyes glistening lightly.
Johnny stared down at your joined hands for a long moment.
His thumb rubbed absentmindedly across the back of your knuckles before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He let go immediately, almost embarrassed.
“You sound just like her,” the words were barely above a whisper.
A sad smile tugged at your lip again, “I guess that's the multiverse for you.”
He laughed through his nose, “yeah.”
Silence settled between you. It wasn't uncomfortable anymore, that feeling had passed. But it was a weight above you both, it made the air thicker.
“I haven't heard someone say her name in her voice for almost three years,” he admitted shyly, “or I guess, your name… in your voice.”
You looked down, “I’m really sorry.”
“You keep apologizing,” he searched your face.
“I know,” you shrugged, bringing your hands back to your sleeves to keep fidgeting.
“You don't owe me one.”
Another pause.
“When she died,” Johnny swallowed hard, “I kept thinking there had to be a universe where we ended up together. Not in the literal sense. I didn’t exactly know of the multiverse yet.”
His eyes found yours again, “it’s just… overwhelming. Seeing you here, with him, alive. I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
“I would imagine it’s rather odd,” you tried to find a way to lighten the situation, you were like your dad in that sense, but in this situation, you decided to go for connection, “when I lost my dad, I thought the whole world was over. And for a while… it was. But if the roles were reversed, and I walked onto your earth and saw my dad standing there?,” you shook your head, “let’s just say I think you had a a rather calm reaction.”
For the first time all day, Johnny Storm actually smiled.
Although he had calmed down, it was still a strange adjustment for the entire team. Johnny still caught himself staring every now and then. And you could feel the eyes of the other Fantastic four members whenever you walked into the training or meeting room.
Sometimes he'd walk into the kitchen and freeze because for half a second your laugh sounded exactly like hers and he had to remind himself that you weren’t his.
Sometimes you'd catch him looking away the instant you noticed.
Neither of you mentioned it, nobody did. It was silently and unanimously decided that it was better not to talk about it.
Over the following weeks the Fantastic Four integrated into the team surprisingly well.
Reed spent most of his time with Bruce arguing over dimensional energy signatures and the pattern of Doom’s movements.
Sue and Yelena were getting along as sisters would and Ben became Sam's gym partner.
And somehow through all of the stress, Johnny became your friend.
Not because he wanted you to replace anyone, but because he found that you were impossible not to like.
You were sarcastic enough to keep up with him, stubborn enough to challenge him, and compassionate enough to understand when he'd occasionally go quiet.
Peter was the first to notice it, mostly because he was always paying attention to you. And all three of you fell into a rhythm of friendship. The type of rhythm you couldn’t remember your life without.
The three of you sat on the roof one evening sharing pizza.
“Johnny, keep your pineapple bullshit as far away from ours as possible,” you had, gesturing offensively towards his half of the pizza.
“Dude, aren’t you from New York? Do they allow that in your New York?” Peter added.
Johnny chuckled, “you haven’t even tried it.”
Peter scoffed, “don’t have to.”
Johnny turned to face you. “See? I guess that’s why you're marrying him and not me.”
The joke landed awkwardly. Johnny's smile faltered as you and Peter turned to look at each other.
“I'm—”
You interrupted with a grin, “and don’t forget Peter actually does the dishes.”
Peter looked absurdly proud, “I do.”
Johnny rolled his eyes so dramatically Ben could probably feel it from three floors down, “well that’s just unfair. Peter is what the people of your earth call, a simp? I believe that’s what Joaquin called you.”
Peter looked offended, but the tension dissolved into laughter.
Unfortunately, normal never lasted.
Reed's scanners picked it up first.
Victor von Doom wasn't simply trying to conquer Earth-616. He was using fragments of collapsing universes to build something impossible.
A machine capable of stitching realities together. Reed spoke in circles around everyone in the room before realizing he was strictly using science terms.
“He wants to erase every universe that doesn’t fit his… master plan,” Bruce said in the meeting room.
“Was that it dumbed down for us regular folks?” You asked, trying and failing to lighten the mood.
“Says the MIT grad and her MIT grad fiancé,” Bruce quipped back.
“It was for me and Alexei and Quino, okay?” Yelena corrected, gesturing vaguely, and rolling her eyes.
Joaquin threw his hands up in defense, making Sam smile.
You huffed a laugh, but when you looked around everyone’s smiles quickly faded as they processed the severity of the mission.
The mission took you to the center of three collapsing realities. The most fucked up part of the whole thing was that it was actually beautiful.
It was like the most intense sunset you had ever seen with the northern lights somehow sparkling through it all. What quickly wiped that vision of beauty away was the smoke and the screams.
Sue nearly collapsed holding together an entire collapsing bridge long enough for hundreds of people to escape.
As Peter looked around, he saw Johnny looking at you again.This time he was checking to make sure you were alright.
Honestly, he didn’t mind. Because he knew how you were, you were just like your father. Willing to make the sacrifice for the greater good. But Peter couldn’t lose you too.
So whatever it may be, an old habit, the need to subconsciously keep some version of you safe, Peter didn’t mind that Johnny protected you when he couldn’t.
Doom managed to escape you that day. You’re not sure how he did, but you knew he was calculated, that much you had all learned. But for now, the collapse of reality was delayed.
You were all cooped up in an abandoned building near the incursion point.
You were helping Yelena rebraid her hair when Peter sat down on the ground next to Johnny.
Johnny looked over at Peter as he sat.
Peter exhaled, keeping his eyes on you across the room, “thanks.”
Johnny’s brow furrowed, “for what?”
Peter turned to him, holding his mask in his lap, “for watching out for her.”
Johnny stared into the small fire burning between them, “I don't even have to think about it. It just… happens.”
Peter smiled knowingly.
After a moment he added quietly, “if she was even half as amazing as she is here, then I get it.”
Johnny let out a slow breath, “I couldn’t… save her.”
Peter nodded, he didn’t press further, he simply sat with Johnny in his grief.
The final battle took place inside Doom's reality fortress.
Everything collided and somehow everyone fought separately.
Peter swung through collapsing platforms trying to reach you.
You were trapped between two buildings. Fighting between two of Doom’s accomplices, barely holding on. And then a massive fracture opened beneath your feet.
Reality itself cracked apart… and you fell.
Peter fired two webs. Both dissolved before reaching you. He let out a scream that could’ve been heard in space.
You didn’t scream. No. You couldn’t. You simply gasped before realizing you were falling to your death. Your stomach flipped as you came to the realization that the webs were out of reach.
Just as you closed your eyes, something hot encompassed your wrist. He caught you just before you disappeared into the void.
Your eyes shot open and met his.
“Johnny!” You breathed out in a panicked tone.
“I’ve got you!” He yelled back, pulling you up and nearly throwing you both over the side of the crack in the ground.
Peter swung and landed where you both laid on the dirt.
Johnny pushed himself up on his forearms, gasping for air before standing upright. Peter’s hands moved to your back, gently coaxing you up as you tried to catch your breath.
The thick combat suit you always wore was completely burnt through at the wrist, but you didn’t care.
Just as you all stood up, time stopped. The ground shook beneath you as Doom fell. The incursions began to separate and go back to their natural realities.
You saw Sam and Bucky hug in the distance, Yelena smiling at Alexei, it was over. You won.
You all piled into the quinjet and made your way back to the New Avengers tower.
The thing about saving the world that you never got used to, was the after. Your whole life has revolved around saving the universe for months, and just like that, it’s over. You always found it hard to go back to normal.
You were slipping out of your combat suit and sitting on a table while Bruce patched you up.
Peter found Johnny sitting alone on one of the landing platforms overlooking the city skyline.
Cheers could be heard in the distance, alarms blared, fireworks went off. The city, and the world, were safe again.
His hand was flexing, as he rotated his wrist that had been lazily wrapped before excusing himself to get some air.
Peter sat beside him, “looks like I owe you another thank you.”
Johnny looked over.
Peter swallowed, “you saved her,” he looked out over the city again, “I missed.”
Johnny smiled sadly.
Peter laughed shakily, sniffing and trying to will his tears away, “I thought I was going to lose her.”
Johnny stared at the skyline glowing beneath the setting sun.
Peter looked at him.
Johnny's voice was quiet, “I couldn't save her,” he blinked once, “on my earth. We uh, we were the fantastic five once you know?” Peter nodded, smiling at Johnny.
“She was so amazing,” he shook his head fondly, “but uh, she took the risk, and she saved the day. But I couldn’t get there. And by the time I did, well uh, it was too late.”
A small smile crossed his face, “I'm just happy I could save her here. That there’s a universe where she gets to live and be loved, even if it’s not by me.”
Peter understood immediately.
Peter reached over and squeezed Johnny's shoulder, “I owe you everything.”
Johnny shook his head, “I could say the same to you guys.”
For the first time in years, the ache in his chest stopped feeling like an open wound and felt more like a scar. It didn’t feel debilitating.
That night, the teams shared a mountain of takeout boxes and bottles of whatever liquor you could find.
The laughs rang through the tower in a way that felt familiar and homely. Peter held a beer in one hand and your lower back in the other.
You fiddled with the ring on your left hand as he conversed with Reed about something you hadn’t caught.
Your eyes wandered to Johnny who was across the room laughing with Bucky.
You couldn’t help but smile.
The next morning, hangover and all, it was time to say goodbye. It ended up being more tearful than anyone had expected. In the past few months, you have all grown so close, you felt more like one team than two. Whether it be trauma bonding, or just the attachment, you’re not sure.
When you finally got to Johnny, he smiled nervously, unsure where to start, so you did.
“Can I hug you?” You asked tentatively, voice small.
He looked confused, “um, yeah, sure.”
You closed the distance between you in two small strides, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your head against his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry I’m not… her,” you said against him.
He let out a wet laugh, nuzzling his head against yours as he held your upper body tightly, “you truly have nothing to apologize for.” He took a shaky breath, “in fact, this has been more healing than you know.”
“You know, if it were me, which I guess it was in some weird way, I would want you to be happy,” you spoke quietly.
You felt him tense lightly at that.
“I don’t mean to upset you,” you pulled out of the hug, taking his hands in yours softly, “I just have to say it. If— if Peter were to lose me, I would want him to live his life for me, not stop it,” you swallowed nervously, “I would want him to feel love and happiness, take the trips we always talked about, laugh with his friends. I would want him to live for both of us.”
Johnny smiled at you sadly, “god, yeah. That’s something she would say.”
You huffed a laugh, “when you get home, just try it.”
He nodded slowly, “I think I will.”
You parted from him with one final squeeze of his hands, making your way back over to Peter.
You slid your arms around his waist and he held you tightly against him.
You waved goodbye as they all piled back in their ship.
“Well,” Peter looked down at you, “now that we saved the universe… again, I guess it’s time to plan a wedding.”
You laughed, wiping a stray tear that had fallen, “that’s what Pepper is for.”
He laughed at that, squeezing you a little tighter, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
You smiled up at him with glossy eyes, “me too.”
The Fantastic Four disappeared into the sky, the engines of their ship becoming nothing more than a distant hum before finally fading completely.
You stood on the landing platform long after they were gone.
Peter was beside you, his arm wrapped securely around you.
“You okay?” he asked.
You nodded slowly, “yeah.”
You looked down at the ring on your finger. Then back toward the sky.
“I think he’ll be okay,” you said, thinking out loud.
Peter followed your gaze. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “I think he will too.”
He had come to your universe carrying the weight of losing you. And he was leaving having saved you.
Maybe, in some strange way, that was what the multiverse had given him.
For the first time since the Fantastic Four had arrived, the strange ache in your chest finally began to fade.
You weren't her.
You never would be.
And Johnny didn't need you to be.
You were you.
Tony Stark's daughter.
Peter Parker's fiancée.
Yelena's best friend.
An Avenger.
Three months later, the Baxter Foundation officially reopened its dimensional research division.
Reed insisted it was purely scientific, but Ben insisted it was because Reed was incapable of leaving anything alone.
The first time the Fantastic Four returned to Earth-616, it was nearly a year later and you were waiting for them in the lobby of the New Avengers Tower.
Johnny stepped off the platform first.
His eyes found yours immediately, “hey, Stark. Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.”
You smiled, “hey, Storm.”
He opened his arms and you laughed and walked straight into them.
When you pulled away, Johnny looked down at your left hand, “wedding plans yet?”
You smiled, “unfortunately.”
He shook his head, “oh poor Parker.”
You swatted his arm, making him laugh.
Peter appeared behind you, sliding an arm around your waist, “why poor me?”
Your wedding day arrived far sooner than you expected, as people always say it does.
The ceremony was small by Stark standards. Which meant there were still approximately two hundred people there.
You stood at the end of the aisle, your father's old wedding band tucked safely into a sewn pocket of your dress.
Peter stood at the other end and the second the doors opened and your eyes met him, he was crying.
Pepper held your arm tightly, smiling so big it had to hurt her, “I’m so proud of you.” She whispered before taking the step to walk you down the aisle.
You laughed through your own tears.
“Seriously?” you mouthed to him.
He shook his head, laughing as he wiped his eyes.
You reached him and he immediately took your hands.
“You look so beautiful,” he whispered, his smile was almost goofy.
“You're crying,” you said, crying yourself.
He laughed, leaning closer, “I love you.”
Your smile softened, “I love you.”
And as the ceremony continued, you glanced toward the front row.
Yelena was crying and Bucky was pretending he wasn't.
Sam was smiling and Thor was absolutely sobbing.
And then you turned back towards Peter.
Because this was your life. This was your universe. This was your story.
And when Peter slipped the ring onto your finger, you realized that perhaps the strangest gift the multiverse had ever given you was the reminder that life was precious precisely because it wasn't guaranteed.
Peter leaned down and kissed you as everyone around you erupted into cheers.
You laughed against his lips.
And somewhere beyond the stars, in a universe you would probably never see, Johnny Storm was learning how to live again.
Not because he had forgotten her.
But because he finally understood what she would have wanted.
And in the strange, infinite expanse of the multiverse, that was enough.
peter being so understanding… johnny learning to be ok with it and living his life again… johnny getting to save you unlike he was able to in his universe…
A small smile crossed his face, "I'm just happy I could save her here. That there's a universe where she gets to live and be loved, even if it's not by me."
i’m crying both from joy and sadness with this one out of sheer bliss😭💙
summary: Johnny used to be literally obsessed with you, until he gets hit with an anti-love powder. Suddenly, you're the least sought after girl in the land, and you aren't enjoying it.
word count: 3469
warnings: second person pov, no use of y/n (we're trying something new here), first time writing for johnny (I saw the movie last night lol), angst but there IS a happy ending don't worry!! based of 'My Man on Willpower' by Sabrina Carpenter but I wanted my first Johnny fic to be happy so it's only based on like one line lol
note: i'm gonna make a post explaining my absence but for now, I think this is how my fics will be set up.
masterlist
Everyone knows Johnny Storm's reputation with women.
Well, everyone knew it, at least. And yes, it was fun to joke about how he fell for the Silver Surfer, and how before he went up to space, before he was famous, he became an astronaut while keeping a steady string of girls in and out of his room.
But this was all before he met you, the love of his life. He claims it was love at first sight, to which you roll your eyes at and tell him only happens in fairy tales (but your cheeks heat every time). Despite your teasing, you know that Johnny loves you, and he would never do anything to jeopardize your relationship.
He proves this to you every day, in little and big ways. He gets you flowers if he passes by them after a mission, he brings you coffee when he gets up before you, and he is very, very loud with his love for you.
The first interview after you started dating, he was eager to get to your apartment. He had seen the flower shop when he was sucking in the flames from the aftermath of the damage, and he knew it would be a great surprise. But of course, he couldn't fly on fire and keep the flowers in good condition, so he needed to walk to your apartment. And he didn't want the rest of his family to know, so he couldn't take the car.
"Human Torch! Mr. Storm! Johnny!" The man yelled, and of course Johnny looked over. He couldn't have been more obvious, wearing his super suit still, but he was hoping he was far enough away from the battle ground to be stopped. It seemed he wasn't, as the man had a pad of paper in his hand and a camera slung over his shoulder.
"Uh, hi." He says, continuing walking and hoping he doesn't get stopped. He normally loves to talk to fans, but he just wants to see you.
"Can I ask you a couple questions?" The man asks, and Johnny sighs as he looks at your apartment building a few blocks over. He was so close, and he can see the man reaching for his camera. If he doesn't answer the questions, he's going to get a story made up for him anyway.
"Yeah, sure." He nods, turning his whole body toward the guy. The reporter looks like he's so excited he could jump out of his skin, and Johnny tries to smile. The exhaustion is creeping up, being so close to home yet so far.
The reporter asks a few questions about the battle, which Johnny answers in his normal charming way, and then effortlessly switches his direction.
"Last question, who are the flowers for?" The man asks, and Johnny smiles, looking down at them.
"They're for my girlfriend. I just want to get home to see her." He says it without realizing, the click of the camera bringing him back to reality. His eyes widen as he looks at the reporter, who is gleaming with this information.
"Thanks, Johnny!" The man yells, and Johnny almost sets on fire with the rage that he was played.
He practically runs to your apartment, knocking on the door until you open it, brows furrowed.
"Is everything al-"
"Look out your window." He tells you as he holds the flowers out. You take them, opening your mouth for a question, but he walks back down the stairs and out the door, leaving you speechless in the doorway with the flowers in your arms. You shut the door, putting the flowers on your table before looking out the window.
And there is Johnny, a bright light in the sky even during the day, his flame so hot and fast that he's leaving a trail of smoke as he flies through the air.
A trail of smoke that spells your name.
You put your hand over your mouth, emotion welling in your chest. The two of you hadn't gone public with your relationship; Johnny hadn't asked, and you hadn't pushed. But this, this was the most public declaration of love you could imagine.
And when Johnny told you later that he had done it because of the reporter who baited him into spilling after he kindly stopped, you laughed so hard you got the hiccups.
~
You eventually moved into the Baxter Building with Johnny and his family, and that's how you knew a ring was coming soon. Sue refused to say a word about if she knew he had it, and Ben joked so much to tease Johnny you had no idea what was the truth when he was talking about Johnny proposing. And Reed didn't say anything, because he had a strong aversion to other's personal lives. Especially Johnny's.
But you knew he was going to propose soon, otherwise he wouldn't have asked you to move into the building with his family.
You were waiting on the couch for the team to come home. They had been sent out on a recon mission, one that Reed had forced on the team and Johnny had drug his feet on until Sue yelled at him to get his ass in gear. You had kissed him goodbye, and then he pulled you in again as a kiss for good luck, and before he could get another one in Ben grabbed him and pulled him away.
You were watching the news, even though this wasn't a battle and the general public would have no knowledge of this mission. You had also been put in charge of watching Franklin, who just laid in his pin in the living room and played with the toys in there. When the elevator dings, you jump, standing to greet the team. Reed and Ben are first, blocking Sue and Johnny.
"Let's go to my lab, run some tests." Reed is saying, and you notice how serious everyone looks. Your heart starts to race.
"I told you, I feel fine." Johnny says, and then you see him. He looks fine, but Sue is at his side, worrying over him like the big sister she is.
"Just because you feel fine doesn't mean you are fine." Sue tells him, and you step forward. Johnny has been hurt, but you're not sure how yet.
"What happened?" You ask, making your way to Johnny's other side.
"Johnny inhaled an unknown powder. He appears to be fine, but I would like to ensure it didn't have any effects on him." Reed informs you as everyone makes their way to his lab.
"Can you please tell him Reed needs to do some tests? He always listens to you." Ben grumbles, and you feel your cheeks heat but nod, turning to your boyfriend.
"Babe, can you please just let Reed do some tests to make sure you're okay? That powder could have been anything, and the effects may not have set in." You try, reaching for his arm. He rolls his eyes, then pulls his arm away from you, bumping into Sue to move further from you. Your mouth drops open.
"You are so goddamn bossy." He says, and your heart stops beating. Johnny has never talked to you like this, even in a joking manner. It's so shocking that the rest of the team stops walking as well, all turning to look at him.
"Do you want to try that again?" Sue asks her brother, moving back from him.
"Try what again?" He asks, looking at everyone as if they're the ones who lost their heads and not him.
"I think we need to run those tests now." Reed says, looking from Johnny to you. You are frozen in shock, your brain trying to run through all the possibilities of what he could have possibly gotten hit with to make him act like that.
"No, we don't. I'm fine. That powder was probably like, flour, or something." Johnny shrugs, and Ben shakes his head.
"Buddy, you just called your girlfriend bossy. And you, of all people, do not do that." Ben says, and Johnny rolls his eyes again.
"I have my own feelings. And I am always around her. Maybe I need a break." Your heart is on the floor at your feet, shattered. You blink quickly, trying to push back your emotions, because he doesn't even look at you when he's talking.
"Alright." Ben sighs, then picks Johnny up. Johnny screams, sets himself on fire, but Ben and his impenetrable skin doesn't let go. He follows Reed to the lab, and you and Sue are left in the living room.
"What just happened?" You whisper, turning to her. She looks just as shocked as you are, shaking her head.
"He was fine on the way back. He didn't snap at us, or act strange." She seems at a loss for words, and you don't know what to do. You can't go back to your room, the one you share with Johnny, but you don't want to leave.
"How did he even get hit with powder?" You ask, running a hand over your face.
"He was messing around, like usual. He wasn't paying attention, just going around and looking in boxes. One of them just exploded." She explains, and you close your eyes, trying to think of what could possibly be in that powder.
"So if he's fine to you guys, but not to me," You don't want to voice how it feels to know that you're not on the same level as his family, that you were wrong about him proposing soon.
"We don't know what happened. It could have just kicked in." Sue says, but you know neither of you believe it.
"I'll start on dinner." You tell her, wanting to get out of this conversation. All you can do now is hope that Reed can fix Johnny.
~
When Johnny doesn't come for dinner, you wish it didn't break your heart the way it does. Reed doesn't look at you, and Ben is extra nice complimenting your cooking. You finally can't take it, and you nicely set your silverware down so you don't throw it.
"What did you find?" You ask, and for the first time Reed looks up, eyes wide. He then looks at everyone else, even Franklin, before looking at his dinner, then back at you.
"Johnny was hit with an antipathy mixture. It's the opposite of a philter." You know he's using big words to lessen the blow, but you could throttle him for it.
"Reed, if you don't tell me-"
"It's an anti-love powder. Specifically made for partners." Ben says, his kind eyes directed toward you. You blink, your brain unable to process this information.
"So what do we do?" You ask, your voice cracking with emotion. The Fantastic team looks at each other, and you almost know exactly what they're going to say before they say it.
"There is no cure." Reed says, and your stomach churns. You almost throw up on the table.
"That we know of." Sue cuts in, and you feel like your head is stuffed full of cotton. "But we're going to keep looking." She assures you, and you stand, not bothering to finish your dinner that you weren't even eating.
You're on autopilot, and you don't even realize that you're on your way to your old room when you bump straight into Johnny.
"I'm sorry," You can't look at him, so you look down and think about if you should just run away.
"I can't have just one moment of peace, can I?" He chuckles sardonically, and you just nod, your heart breaking. Does it make it better that it isn't him, but there's no cure so this might as well be him.
"I said sorry. I'll go now." You try not snap, but he's snapping at you so it's hard to keep your calm. Johnny has never treated you like this, and it's making your heart break. You turn around, set on finding the guest room on the floor above, when Johnny speaks.
"Why are you even here?" Johnny asks, causing you to pause. You don't say anything, or even look at him. "You're not apart of the team. You're definitely not apart of this family."
You might as well be bleeding out with the way he has stabbed you with his words.
You walk away, not wanting him to see your tears.
~
It's a week of the antipathy mixture or whatever the hell Reed called it, when Johnny brings a woman home.
A woman who is not you.
She looks nothing like you, and that stings. You had been in the living room, because really where else were you supposed to go? You had the guest room with some of your clothes, but most of your stuff was still in Johnny's room.
"Johnny?" Sue looks shocked, the most shocked you've ever seen her. Reed was holding Franklin, pretending to pay attention to the baby so he didn't have to weigh in on this drama.
"No," Ben stands, shaking his head and humming in disapproval. "Turn around and take her home."
"I am a grown man." Johnny scoffs, and the girl just looks so excited to be there, to be on Johnny's arm, never mind the fact that his girlfriend is sitting right there.
"And you're making some poor decisions right now." Ben says, crossing his arms. They didn't want the public to know about the powder, since Reed was actively looking for a cure still. The more he look though, the more you lose hope that he'll ever find it.
"Johnny, please take her home." Sue says softly, and you wish you could get up and leave, but you're frozen to your seat.
"Fine, but I'm not coming back." He glares at you, even though you haven't said anything, because he knows they're doing this for you. This is your fault, even if it's his actions.
And that's how the news got out that you and Johnny broke up.
The day it was on every news headline in New York, the rest of the team had tried to keep you away from it. You had been reading the news to do something without spending time with Johnny, and that morning Reed had taken them all and put them in the shredder.
"Where's the paper?" You asked, making your coffee. The other three were all silent, the only sound being Franklin eating his food.
"It hasn't come in yet." Sue finally says, and you frown.
"It's eight. It always comes at seven." You turn to them, and they all are interested in their food and not in looking at you.
"Maybe not today." Sue shrugs, looking up and smiling at you before going back to her breakfast. You frown, but move on, because why else would they be lying to you?
"Alright." You nod, taking your coffee to living room. When you sit down, you notice the TV just isn't there. "Where's the television?" You ask, watching all three of the team members turn to look at you.
"I lost my balance last night." Ben says, and you wonder how that would have happened. But you don't push it, because they are letting you stay at the Baxter Building even though Johnny is hell bent on breaking your heart.
"Why don't we go out and do something fun today?" Sue suggests, and you feel so confused. You love the team, you know they have your back, but this is not something you guys do.
"Like what?" You ask, but then you begin to hear people screaming in the streets. The four of you stand, Sue grabbing Franklin, and go out to the balcony, where there's a crowd of women. They're screaming for Johnny, holding signs with his names and hearts and they're all in their Sunday best. You furrow your brows, confused on what brought this on, when their screaming gets louder and they start to point to something in the air. Johnny flies onto the balcony, smirk on his face as he looks at all his fans.
"Wow, I forgot how good this felt." He says, and you can barely breathe as you watch him turn to you, as if in slow motion. "Guess you were really holding me back." He shoves the morning paper, slightly singed from his flame, into your chest, and you catch it as you watch him walk away. Before anyone else on the team can grab the paper, you pull it away and read the front page.
Johnny Storm, America's Hottest Man, Officially Back on the Market!!
Accompanying this is a picture of him kissing - kissing - the girl he had brought home last night. In public. You could kill him.
As you look up to the rest of the team, you realize exactly what they had been doing that morning. At least they truly care for you and your feelings, even when Johnny doesn't right now.
You're going to move. You can't live with him. But first, you are going to tell him off. He doesn't get to kiss other girls, even if he isn't himself. It just isn't fair to you.
You drop the paper and march to his room, where you're sure he's gone. You haven't been in there since he was hit, and you're glad to see it hasn't changed much. Johnny hasn't even gotten the chance to sit down yet, but he's frowning at you.
"What do you want?" He asks, scowling. You are so sick of his shit, because if there is no cure, if he truly is stuck like this, then he at least needs to hear you out.
And your last thoughts will not be that he was kissing some random girl.
So, you march right up to him and grab his shirt. He barely has time to protest before your lips are on his. You're sure he'll go on many more dates, and kiss many more girls, which breaks your heart, but you won't see it. Your last thought of Johnny and kissing will be with you.
You don't let it last for too long, because you aren't trying to torture him, so you pull back and step away, watching him blink for a couple moments.
"I know that you have been under some sort of spell or curse, but you don't get to treat me horribly. You used to be literally obsessed with me, and now it's like you won't even get near me! You have to treat me with respect-"
"Baby," Johnny starts, and you want to slap him, because you didn't mean right now.
"Let me finish! I love your family, and they love me, so you will see me again. And if you ever do find another girl, you can't treat her like this. You-" You cut yourself off, emotion choking you at just the thought of him finding someone else to love. You hate the idea, but there would be nothing you could do if he did, given that he despises you.
While you're fighting for air, Johnny hugs you. Tight.
You pause, so shocked and confused that your previous battle with emotions all but vanishes. He's holding you just like he did before he got dusted, and you don't know what to do.
"I am so sorry." He says, and you realize he's crying.
"What?" You push him away, but he won't budge. This is the biggest switch up you've ever felt, and you wonder why you hadn't yelled at him last week.
"I can't believe I did all that, God, sweetheart, I would never hurt you on purpose. Please believe me, I promise," He's shaking, and you aren't quite sure what's going on but you think maybe you have an idea.
"Are you cured?" You ask quietly, as if you're trying not to pop whatever bubble this is.
"When you kissed me," He starts, moving back but keeping his hands on you. His blue eyes bore into yours, and you're relieved to see the love and adoration you're used to in them. "It's like I could finally breathe again. Every time I talked to you, it's like I wanted to say one thing and what came out of my mouth was the complete opposite. I wasn't in control." He explains, and you put your hans on his face, trying to comfort him.
"It's okay, baby. I know it wasn't you." You tell him, and then the two of you kiss once more. This time it's more passionate, the two of you pouring out all your emotions into each other. You had missed him so much, even if he had been in the same building as you.
"Look at us. True love's kiss." He says, and you roll your eyes.
"That only happens in fairy tales." You tell him, but you're secretly glad you have another fairy tale trope to check off in your relationship.
personally I'm annoyed by the socioeconomic conditions that made words like "unalive" necessary but simultaneously impressed by the linguistic adaptations young people have made to continue talking about important things while subject to those conditions and I think if you can't hold both of those thoughts in your head you might just be old man yelling at cloud
summary: johnny gives you a special gift straight from the heart— or space
a/n: just a quick little oneshot. not proof-read.
Johnny glanced at his watch, five minutes to closing. "I can't be late to pick this up," he muttered to himself. He launched off the building rooftop in a trail of flames and sped into the city, dodging his way through several blocks in sharp turns.
The good thing about doing patrol at night was that he had the freedom to fly where he pleased, the bad part was getting home late and missing store hours.
He landed on the sidewalk, precisely in front of the jewelry shop he had visited two weeks prior. He checked his watch again, three minutes to closing. He patted down his hair and knocked on the glass doors just as the jeweler was taking the shop keys out of her coat. She recognized him and beckoned him inside with a polite wave of her hand.
"You're lucky I didn't close ten minutes earlier tonight," she said to him as she rounded behind the display counter.
"Is it ready yet?" He asked nervously.
The jeweler turned around and slid a velvet box across the counter to him. "See for yourself."
Johnny took the box and opened it, his mouth falling open as he did. "It's perfect— perfect for her. This is exactly what I had in mind!" He was awestruck and couldn't wait to give it to you.
"I'm glad it turned out to your vision, Mr Storm."
"Pearl, you're a wonder maker with incredible talent. She's going to love it." He smiled and extended his hand out to the lady across from him.
She accepted his hand and shook it, "lovely doing business with you, sir."
Johnny shoved the box into his pocket and headed out the door and into the air.
You sat on Johnny's bed engrossed in a book. Night time had brought moonlight that illuminated the outside of the building and the carpeted floor by the windows.
It was late and Johnny still wasn't home. Wether he was actually taking care of hero business or doodling in the sky with this flames was none of your concern so long as he made it home every night.
A slight stumble, then balanced footsteps, from the hallway broke you from your concentration; it had to be Johnny returning. You smiled to yourself and kept reading.
The doorknob creaked and in stepped Johnny, closing the door behind him carefully. "Hey babe, I'm back," he approached the bed carefully and pecked you on the forehead.
You closed your book in your la and smiled up at him, "I missed you."
"Missed you more," he quipped back. He rounded the bed to lay next to you, careful of something protruding from his pocket. "The Great Gatsby?" He held your disregarded book in one hand and frowned at it.
"It's a classic."
"You've read it a dozen times."
You smacked him on the shoulder playfully, to which he responded with a dramatic collapse on the mattress.
"That reminds me, actually," he pulled out a small dark blue velvet box from his pocket, "I picked something up for you on the way back." He held the box up to your eye level as he straightened up to sit facing you. "Open it," he gestured the box in your direction as you gratefully took it in your hands.
You opened the box and revealed a precious ring with eye-shaped windows of a grayish-white stone all around. On top and in between the windows sat stars that gleamed just as bright as the stones themselves. You carefully removed the ring from its box to hold it up in the moonlight.
"Johnny, it's…" you gasped.
A sheepish grin crept onto his face and he watched your eyes twinkle with adoration. "I actually had this custom-made for you," he said quietly.
Your eyes snapped to him, pleading for him to continue.
"So the stone here," he gently plucked the ring from in between your fingers and circled his own fingertip on the rim, "the stones are made of a moon dust and crushed diamond. You know, diamonds form around stars and planets— and add sparkle." He chuckled at the last part. "I'll bet you Gatsby never gave his lover a piece of jewelry from space," he quipped.
"It's gorgeous," you said breathlessly, "thank you."
He slipped the ring onto your left middle finger, "just a little something for my love." He brought the back of your hand up to his lips and kissed it. "I had found some space samples up in the lab and I thought to myself, "what better use than to adorn my lovely lover?""
"I love you," you whispered warmly.
"I love you more. To the moon and back," he assured. "And beyond every other star, galaxy, planet, universe, solar system, cosmos— infinite times around and back."
thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3
description: your parents are very strict and would never approve of your new college-aged boyfriend, darren. so, nancy comes up with the perfect solution: introduce them to your "boyfriend", eddie munson, first. compared to the town pariah, darren should look like prince charming... if only fake dating eddie was as easy as you thought it'd be.
pairing: "boyfriend"!eddie munson x you (fem!reader)
tags: eddie munson x you, soft! eddie munson, fake dating, fake relationship, autumn/fall vibes, friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff as fuck, holding hands and forehead kisses "for the bit", eddie is a gentleman, drive-in movie date, acts of service! eddie, matching halloween costumes, darren never stood a chance, SO FUCKING FLUFFY PREPARE FOR TEARS OF JOY :D
TW: just go ahead and make your dentist appointment now tbh
WC: 8.3k (i'm SORRY i really loved writing this one, okay!?)
A/N: AH HELLOOOO!!! It's been a while since I've had a fic that I feel this deeply for, but here we are nonetheless. I am also leaving on Sunday for a much, much, much-needed 9-day vacation, so I'm going to try to feed you all with one or two more fics.
reblogs are ssososososossoooo appreciated :) <3
enjoy my loves xoxo
"It's impossible, Nancy. Utterly and completely impossible."
You let your forehead fall dramatically against the cafeteria table with a soft thunk, your tray rattling beneath the impact. Across from you, Nancy barely looked up from the sad excuse for a school lunch she was methodically picking apart.
This wasn't the first time she'd listened to you spiral about your parents, and judging by the unimpressed look on her face, she doubted it'd be the last.
"Oh, will you stop whining?" she said, stabbing at a few peas with her plastic fork. "They cannot be that bad."
You lifted your head just enough to shoot her a look. "They're dictators."
"They're parents."
"They're prison wardens with a mortgage."
Nancy rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. "You are so dramatic."
"Says the girl whose mother once grounded her for getting a B-plus."
"That was one time."
"And she still brings it up."
Nancy couldn't exactly argue with that. With a sigh, she abandoned the mystery meat on her tray altogether and leaned back in her seat, folding her arms as she studied you.
You looked genuinely stressed, far more stressed than someone who'd only been dating a guy for a couple of months should've been.
"Darren's in college," you muttered, absentmindedly peeling the label off your milk carton. "He's already got one strike against him. Then there's the fact that he's older than me, which is strike two. By the time they actually meet him, they're going to have convinced themselves he's some twenty-five-year-old biker with a criminal record who's dragging me into a life of organized crime."
Nancy let out an amused snort. "You know that's not true."
"I know that's not true," you groaned. "But they don’t."
"You know what your issue is?"
You narrowed your eyes. "I've got several."
"You haven't given them anyone to compare Darren to."
"...What?"
"They've got nothing to measure him against." She gestured with her fork as if the answer were obvious. "You're terrified to introduce him because, in their minds, he's going to become the blueprint."
You blinked. "I don't follow."
Nancy leaned forward, lowering her voice despite the fact that nobody around you was paying the slightest bit of attention.
"You need to introduce them to someone worse first."
Your eyebrows knitted together. "...Worse?"
"Someone so unbelievably incompatible, so ridiculous, so catastrophically wrong for you..." A slow grin spread across her face. "That when they finally meet Darren, he'll look like the most respectable man on the planet."
You stared at her. "Nancy..."
"I'm serious."
"You want me to fake-date someone my parents would despise?"
"I want you to let them think you're dating someone they'd despise."
Silence. Then, almost against your own will, you felt the gears in your head begin to turn.
"...That's actually..."
"I know."
"...Kind of genius."
Nancy's smile widened. "I know."
Just as you were about to ask the far more important question: who on earth could possibly fit that description?...a familiar voice suddenly echoed across the cafeteria.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
The two of you turned instinctively toward the source. "Oh, Christ," Nancy muttered.
Across the room, standing on top of one of the cafeteria benches as though he were addressing a crowd of thousands instead of a room full of teenagers trying to eat lunch, Eddie Munson threw his arms dramatically into the air.
"I would once again like to address the blatant discrimination against the Hawkins High Hellfire Club—"
You looked at Nancy, and Nancy looked at you, neither of you saying a word.
"...Him?" you asked slowly.
Nancy's grin returned. "Oh, definitely him."
“...Shit.” You mumbled under your breath. Before you could overthink it, you pushed your chair back from the table. The legs scraped loudly against the linoleum floor.
Taking one steadying breath, you squared your shoulders and started weaving your way through the maze of lunch tables toward the growing crowd surrounding Eddie's latest performance.
"Wait—" Nancy hurried after you. "I wasn't expecting you to do it right now."
"If I don't do it now," you muttered over your shoulder, "I'm going to lose my nerve."
"Right."
By the time the two of you reached the edge of the crowd, Eddie was still going strong.
"—and furthermore, if Hawkins High truly believes forcing Hellfire to relocate every other week is somehow constitutional—"
You exchanged one last glance with Nancy, so she gave you a tiny nod. Go.
Swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat, you carefully stepped through the cluster of students until you were standing close enough to reach him.
Then, before you could second-guess yourself…you gave the sleeve of his jacket a gentle tug. The effect was immediate, causing Eddie to stop midsentence.
"...constitutional ri—" His words died in his throat.
Slowly, almost cautiously, he looked down, and there you were. For a brief moment, he genuinely wondered if he'd imagined you. Because girls like you didn't usually interrupt his lunchtime speeches.
Hell, girls like you usually walked around him. He knew exactly who you were, of course. Everyone did.
You were one of those people whose name seemed to carry itself through the halls without any effort. Honor roll. Friends with Nancy Wheeler. Pretty enough that half the boys in school had, at one point or another, convinced themselves they had a chance before reality quickly corrected them.
You carried yourself with a quiet sort of confidence that made you seem untouchable. Not in a snobbish way, but in the way stars looked untouchable from Earth.
And now...you were standing in front of him. His brain, normally overflowing with smart remarks and sarcastic comebacks, came to a screeching halt. Eddie blinked once, then twice.
"...Uh..." He cleared his throat. "...Hi."
"Hi." You offered him a nervous smile, suddenly far less certain about marching over here than you'd been thirty seconds ago.
"Eddie," you began, tilting your head back slightly to meet his eyes. "Can we... uh... talk to you?"
His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "...Me?"
"In private," you added quickly, gesturing toward the audience that had practically doubled in size now that the two of you had approached him. More than a few people had abandoned their lunches entirely in favor of shamelessly eavesdropping.
Eddie glanced over your shoulder at the crowd.
"...I..." He rubbed the back of his neck, still trying to process whatever bizarre alternate universe he'd apparently wandered into. "...Yeah."
A crooked grin finally found its way onto his face. "Yeah, I think I can pencil you in."
Without another word, he hopped down from the cafeteria bench with an exaggerated flourish, dusted imaginary dirt from his jeans, and threw a dramatic glance toward the rest of Hellfire.
"Boys," he announced solemnly, "the revolution will have to wait." He shot you an almost sheepish smile as he caught up beside you.
"So..." His curiosity was practically radiating off him now. "...Lead the way."
The three of you didn't stop walking until the cafeteria noise had faded into little more than a dull echo behind you. The hallway sat blissfully empty during lunch period, save for the occasional locker slamming shut somewhere in the distance.
Eddie rocked back on the heels of his sneakers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans before glancing between the two of you.
"So..." he drawled, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Am I being recruited into a cult, or are you guys finally here to tell me I've won some sort of popularity contest?"
Nancy snorted. "Neither."
"Damn."
She exchanged a quick look with you before deciding to rip the bandage off.
"So, uh..." she started. "Eddie... how would you feel about being a fake boyfriend?"
Eddie blinked. "...Come again?"
"A fake boyfriend."
He frowned, eyes drifting toward Nancy. "...Wait."
"Aren't you and Byers still together?" His eyebrows knitted together in genuine confusion. "I mean..." He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Sure, you're cool and all, Wheeler, but I kinda respect the guy."
Nancy stared at him for exactly half a second before letting out an exasperated groan.
"Oh, my God." She smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Not for me."
Eddie rubbed his arm dramatically. "Ow."
"For her," Nancy clarified, throwing both hands toward you like a game show host revealing the grand prize.
His head snapped in your direction so quickly you were surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. "...Her?"
You gave him an awkward little wave. "Hi."
"You..." he said slowly, pointing at you as if he needed to make absolutely certain everyone was talking about the same person. "...want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?"
"I know how insane that sounds."
"No, no." He held up both hands. "I'm just making sure I didn't hit my head getting off that cafeteria bench."
Nancy folded her arms. "Well?"
Eddie's bewildered expression slowly melted into one of pure curiosity. “I’m intrigued. What does this entail?”
You sigh, rocking on your heels. “Basically, I’ve been seeing this college boy, Darren. I’ve never ever been allowed to date, so I haven’t had a boyfriend yet. And considering he’s already in college, my parents would be uber pissed and never let it happen. So Nancy came up with this plan—”
“That you go out with me, your parents think he’s the golden boy, is that it?” He interrupts.
You pause abruptly, suddenly coming to the realization of how messed up and flat-out mean this all sounds.
“No— uh, shit, yeah, kinda. I’m sorry, this was such a bad idea. Forget I even asked—”
“Woah woah woah, I’m not saying no. I’m all for sticking it to the man or whatever. Just, what do I have to do? Movie dates and rides home?”
“I mean, yeah, kinda. We’d have to be together in every aspect. You know how people in this town love to talk. We have to sell it, y’know?”
Eddie's grin only grew wider.
"So..." He tilted his head. "We're talking the full boyfriend package."
You nodded sheepishly. "Pretty much."
He let out a low whistle. "Movie dates."
"Mhm."
"Walking you home."
"Probably."
"Holding your hand?"
You could feel warmth creeping into your cheeks. "...If people are around."
He hummed thoughtfully, stroking his chin like he was negotiating a business deal worth millions.
"...You realize," he said, unable to suppress the grin threatening to split his face in two, "if we're gonna sell this..."
He leaned in just a fraction. "...I'm gonna have to be the greatest fake boyfriend Hawkins has ever seen."
You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. "I don't think that'll be a problem."
"Oh?" Eddie asked, feigning offense. "You underestimate my dedication to the craft."
"I think I underestimate your ego."
"That's fair."
Nancy glanced between the two of you, already regretting how well you seemed to bounce off each other.
"So..." she interjected. "When exactly were you planning on starting this little social experiment?"
You looked back at Eddie. "Tomorrow."
His eyebrows shot up. "...Tomorrow?"
"My parents drop me off every morning."
"And?"
"And tomorrow..." A small smile tugged at your lips. "They won't have to."
The next morning started like any other. Alarm at 6:30 on the dot, shower, brush your hair and teeth, do your makeup, pick an outfit, and head downstairs for breakfast.
Your mother was in her usual spot in the kitchen, making the same eggs and whole-wheat toast. Your father sat at the head of the table, glasses low on his nose as he read the newspaper, mug of coffee steaming next to him.
“Morning, Hun,” he hummed. “We have to stop at the post office before school today. I gotta mail out my case notes.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Dad.” You said nervously. “I, uh, have a ride today.”
“Oh, did Nancy finally get her car fixed?” Your mother chimed in.
“Oh, uh, yeah, but…it’s not Nancy. Eddie’s actually picking me up.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Your father slowly folded up his newspaper and placed it on the counter. “Eddie? As in, Eddie Munson, Eddie?”
You winced. "...Yeah."
Your mother blinked. "The young man with the... leather?"
You almost laughed. "I think it's denim."
"The one with the chains?"
"...Probably."
"The long hair?"
"...Yes."
"The Hellfire Club?"
"...Yes."
"The one who's in detention every other Tuesday?"
You sighed. "...That's the one."
Your father leaned back in his chair, studying you with an expression that was somehow calmer than yelling would've been.
"And..." He clasped his hands together. "...Why, exactly, is Eddie Munson picking my daughter up for school?"
Your heart hammered against your ribs. “Because we’ve been…seeing eachother.”
Absolute, unwavering silence followed. Your mother and father exchanged looks before answering in unison:
"...What?"
You cleared your throat. "Eddie and I have been... seeing each other."
Your mother's wooden spatula slipped from her fingers, clattering against the stovetop. Your father stared at you as though you'd just announced you were dropping out of school to join the circus.
"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "I must've misheard you."
You forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. "You didn't."
"Since..." your mother began carefully, "...since when?"
"A little while."
"A little while?" your father echoed.
You nodded. "Mhm."
"And you neglected to mention this because..."
"I knew you'd react like this."
"We're reacting because you just informed us that you're dating Eddie Munson."
"I know."
You opened your mouth to argue more, but before you could, a loud, unmistakable rumble echoed from outside. It sounded like someone had awakened a dying dragon in your driveway.
All three of you turned toward the front window. The familiar roar of an aging engine settled into a rattling idle.
Your father slowly stood from the table. "...Is that him?"
As if on cue: Honk. One short beep, then another.
Your eyes squeezed shut. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
From somewhere outside came a voice that carried far too well through the quiet neighborhood. "Take your time, sweetheart!"
You whipped around toward the window in horror. "Oh, my God."
Your father walked over first, carefully pulling back the curtain with two fingers. Your mother joined him a second later.
"...Harold," she whispered.
"I see him."
"He brought flowers."
Your stomach dropped. Flowers? That wasn't part of the plan. Slowly, you walked toward the window yourself, peering over your father's shoulder. There, parked halfway into the driveway in the unmistakable rust-speckled Munson van, was Eddie.
He'd traded his usual leather jacket for his battle vest over a black T-shirt, his sunglasses perched on top of his head despite it barely being eight in the morning. And, resting casually against the side of the van like he'd rehearsed it in a mirror...
...was the single ugliest bouquet of flowers you had ever seen. Half of them looked dead, one of them might've been plastic. There was definitely baby's breath sticking out at an angle it wasn't meant to.
The second your eyes met his through the window, his face lit up. He flashed the biggest, cockiest grin imaginable before lifting the bouquet high into the air with an exaggerated little flourish. Then he gave you an enthusiastic wave.
Your father slowly let the curtain fall shut, and he turned to face you. "...He's brought you funeral flowers."
You pinched the bridge of your nose. "...I think they're supposed to be carnations."
You let out a slow, defeated sigh. "...I'll be home after school."
Neither of your parents responded. Your father simply stood with his arms folded across his chest, while your mother wore the same expression she'd had ever since the words Eddie Munson had left your mouth. It was somewhere between confusion and preparing for the worst.
Grabbing your backpack from beside the front door, you slipped your shoes on and reached for the handle. "Love you," you offered hopefully.
Your mother managed a weak smile. "...Love you too."
Your father nodded once. "We'll... talk tonight."
You swallowed. "...Sounds good."
The second the front door swung open, Eddie spotted you. He straightened from where he'd been leaning against the van, tucked the pitiful excuse for a bouquet behind his back with an almost comical flourish, and plastered on the biggest smile you'd ever seen.
"There she is!"
You had to physically stop yourself from laughing. He walked toward you with the confidence of someone arriving at prom instead of a suburban driveway at seven-thirty in the morning.
"Good morning, beautiful."
Beautiful? You'd known Eddie for less than twenty-four hours, and he was already improvising.
He stopped in front of you, producing the bouquet from behind his back like a magician revealing his greatest trick.
"For my lovely lady."
You looked down. They were somehow even uglier up close. One carnation had snapped clean in half.
"...You bought these?"
"I rescued them."
"From...?"
"The clearance bucket outside Melvald's."
You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it almost hurt.
"They were seventy-five percent off."
"How romantic."
"I know."
You accepted the bouquet, shaking your head. "They're hideous."
"I picked the worst ones."
"I can tell."
"Proud of me?"
"...A little."
His grin widened. "Excellent."
Then, before you had time to react, he reached out, brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face with surprising gentleness…and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. It was quick, sweet, and almost innocent.
But if anyone happened to be watching from inside, it looked incredibly convincing. Your eyes widened ever so slightly. When he pulled away, he leaned in just enough to whisper:
"...Sorry."
You blinked. "For what?"
"I panicked."
"...You panic by kissing people?"
"Apparently."
Before you could answer, the front door creaked open behind you. Both of your parents stepped onto the porch.
Eddie immediately turned, the picture of charm. "Mr. and Mrs!," he called cheerfully, raising a hand in greeting. "Pleasure to finally meet you."
Your father looked him up and down. "...Is it?"
Eddie didn't miss a beat. "It certainly is for me, sir."
"So..." your father began slowly. "You're Eddie."
"The one and only."
"I've heard... things."
Eddie rested a hand dramatically over his heart. "I'm hoping only the good ones."
"I sincerely doubt they were."
"Oh." He nodded thoughtfully. "...Probably."
You could actually see your father's brain trying to determine whether Eddie was genuinely this odd or simply putting on a performance. Spoiler alert: it was both.
"So," your father continued, "you're driving my daughter to school."
"I am."
"You'll obey the speed limit."
"Absolutely."
"No reckless driving."
"Never."
"No funny business."
Eddie frowned slightly. "...Define funny."
You closed your eyes. "Eddie..."
"What?" he asked innocently. "I'm asking for clarification."
Your father's expression remained perfectly flat. "You know exactly what I mean."
Eddie's own smile softened. "I do."
Then, for the first time since he'd arrived, he answered without a trace of sarcasm. "I'll get her there safely, sir."
The sincerity in his voice caught everyone a little off guard; hell, even your father seemed surprised. After a moment, he gave one curt nod.
"I expect you will."
"I will."
With that, Eddie walked around to the passenger side of the van and pulled the door open with an exaggerated bow. "Your chariot awaits."
You rolled your eyes. "What a gentleman."
"I have my moments."
Climbing into the passenger seat, you waited until he rounded the front of the van and slid into the driver's seat before the two of you looked at one another. There was exactly half a second of silence, then you burst into laughter.
Eddie looked over, trying and failing to suppress his own smile. "...What's so funny?"
"You."
"Me?"
"You kissed my forehead!"
"You said we had to sell it."
"I did not say before eight in the morning!"
"You never specified business hours."
You laughed harder. "And those flowers?"
He gasped dramatically. "They cost me a dollar twenty-five."
"They looked like they'd already attended a funeral."
"They did."
You stared at him. "...What?"
"I may or may not have bought them from the cemetery."
Your jaw dropped. "Eddie!"
"I'm kidding!"
"...Were you?"
"...Mostly."
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I have made the biggest mistake of my entire life."
He shifted the van into gear, a smug grin settling onto his face. "Oh, sweetheart."
The engine rumbled to life. "We're only on day one."
The drive to school had only been the beginning. Once Eddie committed to something, it quickly became apparent that he didn't know how to do it halfway.
The second the first bell rang, he'd slung his backpack over one shoulder and casually fallen into step beside you as though the two of you had been doing it for years.
"History first?" he'd asked.
"Mhm."
"Excellent."
You'd expected him to walk you halfway there, maybe to the end of the hallway. Instead, he'd walked you all the way to your classroom, leaned casually against the doorframe while you gathered your books, and smiled down at you.
"I'll see you after second period."
"...You know my schedule?"
He'd pulled a folded piece of notebook paper from his pocket. "Made a copy."
You stared. "...When?"
"Nancy."
You looked over your shoulder at her, so Nancy simply shrugged. "He asked."
"You gave it to him?"
"He was very persuasive."
Eddie tucked the paper back into his vest. "I'm an actor, sweetheart. Continuity is everything."
Sure enough, the moment second period ended, he was already waiting outside your classroom. Then again after third. Then fourth. By lunchtime, the entire school had noticed.
Girls whispered when you walked past. Basketball players openly stared. Freshmen practically dove out of Eddie's way when he slipped an arm lazily over your shoulders while walking through the hallway.
If anyone had doubted the relationship that morning, they certainly didn't anymore. Which was exactly why you found yourself carrying your lunch tray toward the Hellfire table instead of your usual seat beside Nancy.
You stopped dead in your tracks. "...People are going to think I've lost my mind."
Eddie looked up from unwrapping his sandwich. "They already think that."
"...Helpful."
He scooted over and pulled up a chair for you. "C'mon."
With a resigned sigh, you slid in beside him. Almost immediately, the rest of Hellfire fell silent. Gareth looked at Jeff. Jeff looked at Mike. Mike looked at Dustin. Dustin's eyes darted between you and Eddie so fast you were surprised they didn't get stuck.
"...Holy shit," Gareth muttered.
"It's real," Jeff whispered.
Eddie looked offended. "You doubted me?"
"We doubted her."
You couldn't even blame them. A few minutes later, Nancy and Jonathan wandered over, trays in hand.
"Mind if we join?" Jonathan asked.
"Please do," you replied. "I need normal people."
Eddie gasped dramatically.
By the final bell, your social battery had all but evaporated. Being the center of attention all day was exhausting. You were halfway through stuffing books into your locker when Nancy appeared beside you.
"So..." she began.
You looked up.
"I think Phase One was a success."
"You think?"
"I've already heard three different people say they 'always knew' you and Eddie had chemistry."
You groaned. "People are unbelievable."
"They're bored."
"Fair."
Jonathan joined the two of you, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. "Speaking of bored..."
Nancy suddenly snapped her fingers. "Oh!"
She looked between you and Eddie. "I almost forgot."
"What?"
"The drive-in's doing a horror double feature tomorrow night."
Eddie perked up immediately. "...Seriously?"
Jonathan nodded. "I drove past this morning."
"They're showing The Evil Dead and A Nightmare on Elm Street."
Eddie's jaw practically hit the floor. "No way."
"Way."
"They never play good movies."
"I know."
Nancy smiled. "Jonathan wanted to go..."
Jonathan looked over at her. "...Did I?"
"You do now."
He chuckled. "I guess I do."
She turned back toward you and Eddie. "You guys should come."
You blinked.
"As..." She wiggled her eyebrows. "...A couple."
You looked instinctively toward Eddie.
"A public date," he mused. "Excellent for maintaining the illusion."
Nancy laughed. "See? He's getting it."
"Oh, he got it the second he showed up with cemetery flowers."
"They weren't cemetery flowers," Eddie defended.
"They were discount flowers."
"There's a difference."
Jonathan smiled, shaking his head. "So..."
He looked between the two of you. "Tomorrow night?"
You glanced at Eddie, and he gave a tiny shrug. "I'm free."
"...Yeah." You nodded. "I think we'd like that."
The following evening arrived far quicker than you would've liked. Somewhere between surviving an entire day of whispers at school and convincing your mother that, yes, you really were just going to the drive-in with "friends," the reality of the situation had begun to settle in.
You were going on your first date. Granted, it was fake. But somehow that only made your stomach twist even more.
After changing into a pair of jeans, one of your favorite sweaters, and throwing on a light coat for the chilly October air, you gave yourself one final look in the hallway mirror.
"Ready?" your mother called from downstairs.
"As I'll ever be."
The words had barely left your mouth when the doorbell rang. Your father looked up from his armchair.
"That'll be him." You exchanged a quick glance with your mother before making your way toward the front door, only for your father to beat you there. "I'll get it."
The door swung open, and standing on the porch was Eddie.
His curls had clearly been tamed…well, as much as Eddie Munson's curls could ever be tamed.
He'd swapped his usual ripped Hellfire shirt for a plain black waffle long-sleeved shirt. His jeans were still ripped, his boots still scuffed, and there were just as many rings decorating his fingers as always.
He'd made an effort, in the most Eddie way possible.
The moment he saw your father, he straightened. "Evening, sir."
Your father regarded him carefully. "...Munson."
"Eddie works."
Your father didn't smile. "I'm sure it does."
You quickly slipped between them before things could somehow become awkwarder than they already were. "Hi."
The second Eddie looked at you, his entire expression softened. "...Wow."
You felt heat creep into your cheeks. "What?"
"You..." He smiled to himself before shaking his head. "You look really nice."
"...Thanks."
Your father cleared his throat, and Eddie immediately remembered where he was.
"Right." He clasped his hands behind his back almost like a soldier awaiting inspection. "So..."
Your father folded his arms. "So."
"I understand we're going to the drive-in."
"We are."
"And I understand Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler will be there."
"They will."
"Good."
"You'll have her home by eleven."
Eddie nodded immediately. "Absolutely."
"If plans change, she calls."
"Of course."
"If that van breaks down—"
"It won't."
Your father raised an eyebrow. "It might."
"...It might."
"And if it does?"
"I'll call."
"You won't let her walk home alone."
"I wouldn't let her walk across the parking lot alone."
Your father's posture eased... just a fraction. "Good."
He stepped aside. "You kids have fun."
"We will, sir."
As you stepped off the porch, Eddie quietly reached for your hand. You glanced down at your intertwined fingers before looking back up at him.
He leaned over just enough to murmur, "...Audience."
You looked back toward the front window, and sure enough, your parents were watching through the curtains. "...Right."
The drive itself was surprisingly easy. The windows were cracked just enough to let the cool autumn air drift through the van while some old rock station played quietly over the speakers.
You talked about school. About Gareth somehow managing to fail another chemistry quiz. About Dustin insisting he'd seen a UFO behind Family Video. By the time the glowing marquee for the Hawkins Drive-In appeared in the distance, you'd almost forgotten this wasn't real.
Eddie paid for both of your tickets before steering toward the back row.
You frowned. "...Shouldn't we park closer?"
"Nope."
"Why?"
"You'll see."
He killed the engine before hopping out of the driver's seat. "C'mere."
Curiosity getting the better of you, you followed him around to the back of the van. He swung the rear doors open with both hands.
"...Ta-da."
You stopped walking. "...Eddie."
The inside of the van looked nothing like you'd expected.
The back seats had been folded flat, replaced with what looked like every blanket he owned layered over an old mattress pad. Pillows were piled against the sides, making a little nest beneath a strand of warm white battery-powered string lights he'd somehow managed to drape across the ceiling.
There were even two lawn chairs folded neatly in the corner in case you wanted to sit outside instead.
"...What..."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "So..."
You climbed a little closer, running your hand across one of the impossibly soft blankets. "You did all this?"
He shrugged like it was no big deal. "I figured drive-ins are more fun when you're comfortable."
Your eyes wandered farther; a little cooler sat tucked against the wall. Curious, you opened it. Inside were glass bottles of Coke, your favorite cherry licorice, peanut M&M's, movie theater butter popcorn. Even the little strawberry candies you'd absentmindedly mentioned liking while sitting at lunch two days ago.
You looked back at him. "...How do you even know all of this?"
"You told Gareth those strawberry candies reminded you of your grandma."
You blinked. "...You remembered that?"
"Sure."
Still speechless, you reached into the back again.
"...Is this..." You pulled out a folded gray sweatshirt. "...Mine?"
"Nah." He laughed. "It's mine."
You looked at him, confused.
"It's supposed to get cold later."
"So?"
"So..." He looked at you like the answer was obvious. "You complained yesterday that you always underestimate how cold October gets."
"...I did."
"So I brought an extra sweatshirt."
You stared at him. "Eddie..."
For the first time since you'd met him, he actually looked a little shy. "What?"
"I thought this was supposed to be fake."
"It is."
"You didn't have to do..." You gestured helplessly toward the cozy little setup he'd somehow built in the back of the van. "...all of this."
A grin slowly spread across his face. "Oh."
He leaned casually against the open door. "...This?"
You nodded, and he shrugged. "Fake boyfriend package."
You laughed. "No."
"What?"
"This is way above the fake boyfriend package."
He feigned offense. "You wound me."
"Eddie."
"I'm serious."
He pointed into the van. "Blankets."
Another finger. "Snacks."
Another. "Emergency sweatshirt."
He spread both hands proudly. "I'm providing a premium service here."
You laughed so hard you had to grab the side of the van to steady yourself. "I'm going to have to leave you a five-star review."
"Damn right you are."
Then, quieter, his grin softening into something far less performative.
"I just..." He looked over the little setup. "...Figured if we're pretending to date..."
His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "...You should get at least one really good date out of it."
The drive-in ended up being surprisingly perfect. Neither of you paid much attention to the first movie.
Instead, the two of you spent most of it making sarcastic commentary under your breath, sharing popcorn, and arguing over whether The Evil Dead was genuinely terrifying or just "creative low-budget filmmaking," as Eddie insisted.
By the second feature, the October air had turned considerably colder. Without saying a word, Eddie reached behind him, grabbed the sweatshirt he'd packed, and draped it over your shoulders before you even had the chance to complain.
You'd rolled your eyes as he'd simply grinned. "Premium service."
By the time the credits rolled, your cheeks hurt from smiling.
True to his word, Eddie pulled into your driveway at exactly 10:50, ten whole minutes before your curfew. Your father was already waiting on the porch, arms crossed, watching.
Eddie climbed out first, walking around to open your door before helping you step down from the van with an exaggerated flourish. "Milady."
You curtsied dramatically. "Thank you, kind sir."
He placed a hand over his heart. "My pleasure."
Your father watched the exchange carefully as the two of you walked toward the porch. "You made good time."
Eddie nodded. "Told you I would."
Your father checked his watch. "...You're early."
"I figured ten minutes was a safe buffer."
"...Smart."
It wasn't exactly praise. But coming from your father, it was pretty damn close.
"Goodnight, sir."
"Goodnight, Eddie."
You glanced between them. "...Goodnight."
As you headed inside, you couldn't help but notice your father watching Eddie climb back into the van.
Your mother appeared beside him. "So?"
He kept his eyes on the driveway. "...He was respectful."
You nearly tripped over your own feet. Respectful? From your father? Maybe hell really had frozen over.
One fake date somehow became two, then three. Then somewhere along the line, the lines started blurring.
Eddie still picked you up for school almost every morning. He still walked you to every class. He'd started carrying your books without asking. Holding doors open. Stealing fries off your lunch tray despite insisting he "didn't want any."
You'd retaliated by drinking half his chocolate milk whenever he looked away. A silent war had begun that neither of you intended to lose.
The town, of course, ate it up. Mrs. Thompson at Melvald's gave the two of you a knowing smile every time you stopped in after school. The librarian had started saving romance novels "for the young couple." Even Principal Higgins had caught Eddie kissing the top of your head outside English one afternoon.
Instead of detention, he'd simply sighed. "Keep it appropriate, Munson."
"Always do."
The moment Higgins rounded the corner, Eddie looked down at you. "...That counted, right?"
You laughed. "I think we sold it."
"Excellent."
The phone calls hadn't been part of the plan. It started because Eddie called one evening to ask if your father had "bought the hand-holding today."
That conversation lasted fifteen minutes. The next night became thirty. By Friday, the two of you had somehow spent nearly two hours talking about everything and absolutely nothing.
Favorite movies. Childhood stories. Music. Why Garfield was objectively the funniest comic strip ever printed.
You'd started waiting for the sound of your phone ringing around nine every night. And like clockwork, you’d always answered.
Before long, pretending started feeling easy and dangerously comfortable. Sometimes you'd catch yourself laughing before Eddie even finished the joke.
Sometimes he'd bring you your favorite soda without asking. Sometimes he'd absentmindedly reach for your hand crossing a parking lot before either of you remembered there wasn't actually anyone around to witness it.
Neither of you acknowledged those moments; you simply kept the "bit" going.
"So." Jonathan leaned back in his cafeteria chair one afternoon, looking around the table. "I heard something."
Nancy looked up from her sandwich. "...Should we be worried?"
"Probably."
Eddie nodded approvingly. "I like where this is going."
Jonathan ignored him. "My friend at community college said there's a party this Saturday."
That immediately caught everyone's attention. "A college party?" Nancy asked.
Jonathan nodded. "Apparently one of the fraternities is throwing a Halloween thing."
You, Nancy, and Eddie exchanged glances. None of you had been to a college party before. Jonathan noticed the exchange and smiled.
"I was thinking..." He pointed between the two of you. "You guys should come."
Nancy perked up immediately. "Oh my God, yes."
"It'd be fun," Jonathan continued. "Nobody there knows either of you, so there's no pressure. Just music, some booze..." He shrugged. "Besides, Darren goes there, doesn't he?"
Your stomach flipped. "...Yeah."
Jonathan smiled. "Perfect."
Nancy's eyes widened as the implications dawned on her. "Oh."
"Oh."
Nancy was the first one to put the pieces together. Her eyes widened as she looked between you and Eddie. "...Wait."
You glanced over.
"If your parents think Eddie's taking you..." She pointed toward Jonathan. "...Then they'll have absolutely no problem letting you go."
You nodded absentmindedly. "...I guess."
Jonathan shrugged. "And if Darren happens to be there..."
The name hit you like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over your head.
Darren. Right.
For a brief, almost embarrassing moment, you'd forgotten. Not forgotten him, exactly. Just forgotten that he was the entire reason any of this had started.
Your mind flashed back to the phone call you'd had with him a few nights earlier. The conversation had been nice, comfortable even. He'd asked how school was going. You'd told him "good." He'd told you about a biology exam. You'd wished him luck.
Then, before hanging up, you'd mentioned you couldn't talk much longer because Eddie was supposed to call in a few minutes. Only after you'd said it had you realized how naturally the words had come out.
You blinked. "...Oh."
Eddie noticed the shift in your expression almost immediately. "What?"
You looked back at the table. "...Nothing."
Jonathan continued, oblivious. "He'll probably be there somewhere."
“Yeah…” You said, sinking into your seat. "Probably."
By the time the night of the party rolled around, you were equal parts nervous and excited. The excitement, however, had very little to do with the party itself. It had everything to do with the ridiculous argument you'd had with Eddie three nights prior.
"If we're going," he'd said over the phone, "we're wearing matching costumes."
You'd laughed. "No."
"Yes."
"Absolutely not."
"We're a couple."
"A fake couple."
"A distinction with very little importance."
You'd groaned into the receiver. "Eddie..."
"We have to sell it."
"We're already selling it."
"No, sweetheart." You could practically hear the grin in his voice. "We're raising the bar."
Which explained why you were currently standing in front of your bedroom mirror wearing a black, studded mini dress layered over a fishnet top, ripped tights, and heavy combat boots. A spiked choker sat snug around your neck.
Your hair had been teased and left wild, half-pinned back with a chain clip Eddie had insisted on adding himself earlier.
“Needs more attitude,” he’d said, concentrating like he was defusing a bomb.
You’d called it ridiculous; he’d called it perfect.
A knock sounded downstairs.
"He's here!" your mother called.
You grabbed your leather jacket, shrugging it on as you hurried downstairs. The second you rounded the corner into the foyer, Eddie looked up and promptly forgot how to speak.
Gone were the ripped jeans and Hellfire tee. Instead, he wore black skinny jeans, a sleeveless band tee layered under a distressed denim vest covered in patches, and heavy boots that looked like they’d seen more than one mosh pit.
Eddie had somehow managed to style his own hair into a wild, voluminous mess of teased curls and waves, half of it pulled back with a chain and leather wrap, the rest spilling around his face like he’d stepped straight out of a metal album cover.
A few strands fell into his eyes, but he didn’t brush them away. He just stared at you.
"...Holy shit."
You smiled. "What?"
"You..." He shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t quite process it. "You actually did it."
"You look like you belong in a band."
"I do belong in a band."
"You belong in a very loud band."
He grinned, stepping closer. "You look..." His voice softened just slightly. "...Really good."
You felt heat rise in your cheeks. "You don’t look so bad yourself."
Your father chose that exact moment to clear his throat. The two of you jumped apart as though you'd been caught committing a crime.
"Evening, Eddie."
"Sir..."
Your father looked him over. "...Interesting costume."
Eddie glanced down at himself. "Thanks."
"You know..." Your father folded his arms. "...People in bands tend to make questionable life choices."
Eddie nodded seriously. "Yeah, I’ve heard that. I’m trying to keep my record clean tonight, sir."
That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of your father’s mouth.
"So," your father continued, "college party."
"Yes, sir."
"You understand there’ll be drinking."
"There probably will be."
"You won’t be."
"No, sir."
"You’ll make sure she isn’t."
"I will."
"And if anything feels off..."
"We leave." He finishes.
Your father studied him for another second before nodding. "...Midnight."
"We’ll be back before then."
He looked toward you. "Phone?"
You held it up.
"Wallet?"
You patted your pocket.
"Keys?"
Eddie jingled them.
"...Have fun."
The fraternity house was impossible to miss. Music thumped loudly enough to rattle the windows while clusters of college students spilled across the front lawn, laughing beneath strings of orange lights and fake cobwebs. The moment the four of you stepped out of the van, heads turned.
Jonathan leaned toward Nancy. "...I think they win."
Nancy smiled. "They absolutely win."
One college girl walking past pointed excitedly. "Oh, my God!" She laughed. “Sharron and Ozzie!"
Eddie immediately slid an arm around your shoulders. "See?" he murmured. "Worth it."
"...Debatable."
Inside, the house was somehow even louder. A surprising number of people in ripped band tees and eyeliner that looked suspiciously rushed. You spent the first hour simply existing.
You danced exactly once, mostly because Eddie refused to accept no for an answer.
"You have two options," he'd informed you.
"Dance..." He held out one hand. "...Or I throw a fit in this living room."
"...Those aren't good options."
"They absolutely are."
You’d taken his hand before he embarrassed both of you. Nancy had laughed so hard she’d nearly spilled her drink. You were having genuine amounts of fun, almost enough to make you forget why you were there in the first place.
"I'm gonna find the bathroom," you announced after another song ended.
Finding the bathroom proved far easier than finding your way back. You’d barely stepped into the upstairs hallway before a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.
"...Babe?"
Your heart skipped, and slowly, you turned around. "Darren?"
He smiled, equally surprised. "I thought Jonathan said you might be coming."
"I almost didn't."
He laughed. "I didn't think I'd actually run into you."
"So..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You look nice."
You smiled politely. "Thanks. You too."
His eyes drifted over your costume. "...Metal?"
"Mhm."
"Cute."
"So..." he asked carefully. "How've you been?"
Meanwhile downstairs, Eddie checked his watch. "Huh."
Jonathan looked over. "What?"
"She's been gone a while."
Nancy frowned. "...You're right."
"I'll go find her."
"You know where the bathroom is?"
"I'll figure it out."
He checked one door, and then another.
Then, "...Oh."
His footsteps stopped because halfway down the hall stood you. Laughing, talking with a guy: college-aged, a little taller than him, and standing much closer than Eddie would've liked.
Darren. Of course. This was literally the entire reason any of this existed.
His grip around his cup tightened as he watched Darren smile at something you said and watched you smile back.
What had he expected? That you’d forget about the guy you’ve been trying so hard to introduce to your parents?
That this fake relationship had somehow...He cut the thought off before it finished. The cup slipped through his fingers, and it clinked softly against the floor.
Your head whipped toward the sound. "Eddie?"
Your eyes had met then, and he stared at you solemnly for a second before shaking his head and scurrying away.
"Eddie!"
You looked back at Darren only long enough to offer an apologetic smile. "I'm... I'm sorry. I have to go."
Before he could answer, you were already hurrying after the retreating figure, disappearing down the staircase.
“Eddie! Hey…Jesus Christ, you walk fast—Fuck, hey!”
You finally caught his wrist just as he pushed through the front door of the fraternity house; the October air hit both of you immediately.
"Eddie."
He stopped walking, and for a second, you swore he'd turn around. He didn't. Instead, he let out a slow breath through his nose, staring out at the sea of cars parked along the lawn.
"...You should go back inside."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"I was literally coming to find you."
"No." He laughed once, humorlessly. "You were talking to Darren."
"I was saying hello."
"Mhm."
"Eddie."
He finally turned around then, his eyes glossy. He wasn’t crying, not yet, but somewhere dangerously close. "You don't have to explain yourself."
"What?"
"You don't owe me an explanation."
"I wasn't trying to—"
"No." He shook his head. "Seriously."
He laughed a short and almost bitter laugh. "You don't."
You frowned. "You're my—"
He cut you off. "Fake boyfriend.
“You were talking to the guy you actually like." He shrugged. "I get it."
"No, you don't."
"I do."
"No—"
"I was just..." He rubbed both hands over his face before letting out another disbelieving laugh. "Jesus Christ."
His shoulders slumped. "What the hell did I think was gonna happen?"
"Eddie..."
"What?" he asked, throwing one hand into the air. "That I actually convinced myself the prettiest girl in Hawkins High was gonna wake up one morning and decide she wanted me?"
He wasn't looking at you anymore; his gaze was fixed beyond your shoulder, talking more to himself than to you.
"I'm the fucking freak."
"Eddie—"
"And somewhere along the way..." He shook his head. "I forgot."
You stepped closer. "You forgot what?"
"That this..." He gestured between the two of you. "...was never real. You know what the worst part is?"
"Eddie..."
"I started believing it. I started believing all the stupid little things."
He counted them off on his fingers. "The phone calls. The drive-in. You stealing my fries. You laughing at my dumb jokes."
He laughed again. "I started thinking..." He stopped himself. "No."
"Eddie, finish that sentence."
"I started thinking maybe..." His jaw tightened. "Maybe you actually enjoyed being around me."
"I do."
"You have to."
"No."
"You literally have to!" he exclaimed, his voice finally rising. "That's the whole deal!"
"I don't."
"You don't?"
"I don't have to."
He blinked as you took another step forward. "I call you because I want to."
He stared.
"I laugh because you're funny. I go to the record store with you because I like going. With you."
"Eddie..." You swallowed. "I would've kept talking to Darren for maybe another minute."
You gestured toward the house. "I chased after you. Like, I've barely thought about Darren this entire month."
Those words surprised both of you, mainly because you hadn't meant to say them out loud.
"I..." You frowned. "I don't know when that happened."
"Eddie..."
He looked away. "I really don't want you to say something just because you feel bad."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
He let out another dry laugh, shaking his head. "You don't have to spare my feelings."
"I'm not trying to spare your feelings, you idiot!"
Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you searched for the right words. "I don't know how else to say this."
"You don't have to say anything."
"Yes, I do."
"Eddie..." Your voice softened. "I like you."
He smiled sadly. "I know."
"No." You shook your head. "I don't think you do."
He frowned.
"I like you. Like..."
You let out a nervous laugh, one hand coming up to rub the back of your neck. "Like, I genuinely like you."
He froze so much so that you could almost see the sentence replaying itself in his head. "...What?"
"I like you."
"No, you don't."
"I do."
"You don't."
"I really, really do."
He stared at you as though you'd started speaking another language. "You came up with this whole fake dating thing because of Darren."
"I know."
"You wanted me to make him look better."
"I know."
"You've been trying to introduce him to your parents for weeks."
"I know."
"So..." He gave another confused laugh. "How the hell does this happen?"
You laughed through the tears threatening to form. "I don't know."
"I think..." You looked down at your shoes before meeting his eyes again.
"I think it happened somewhere between you showing up with those horrible flowers..."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"...And remembering my favorite candy."
You smiled weakly. "And the drive-in. And the phone calls. And you walking me to every class. You remembered all the little things I said without me ever asking you to."
"You made pretending feel so easy that..." You shook your head. "...I forgot we were pretending."
His lips parted. "I almost forgot Darren existed."
The admission hung in the cool night air.
"I went the entire time without thinking about him once." You laughed softly to yourself. "And then Jonathan mentioned the college party..."
You shrugged helplessly. "...And I realized I'd spent more time wondering what costume we would wear rather than seeing Darren."
"So..." You offered him the smallest, most nervous smile he'd ever seen.
"I guess somewhere along the way..."
You reached down and gently took his hand. "...I stopped fake dating you."
He looked down at your intertwined fingers, then back up at you. "...You're serious."
You nodded. "I've never been more serious."
He smiled so wide it almost looked painful. "...Guess I'm gonna have to start putting in some real boyfriend effort now, huh?"
“Should I be afraid to find out what that entails?”
“Oh yeah. Very much so.”
me giggling and kicking my feet at how cute ts is
since ik you all far too well and love adding more projects for myself...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i just beefed with someone online and I got tired of it so I said "I ate some really good blueberries today" and they replied "I had a fire ass peach today". world peace
Description: You’re spider-man’s closest thing to a friend since the world forgot his name. Helping him with gadgets, cleaning his wounds…all without him ever taking the mask off. His true identity has always been a barrier between you two, but what happens when he gets hit with the pollen, and not only him, but the creature lurking inside him fixates on the only person he gets to call home?
Tags/warnings: sex pollen smut, fem!reader, porn with plot, whiny desperate peter >>>, dry humping, piv, riding, oral fem!rec, fingering, dark!peter taking over for a bit, orgasm denial, prone bone, so much yearning, mask stays on…or does it?
Note: You have no idea how giddy it makes me to write him again. He had NO business looking that good in the movie so I had to get this out of my system. Enjoy 🤍
Masterlist
You've seen spiderman hurt many times. When you signed the lease of the first apartment you could afford as a recent graduate, you never thought that would become your new normal.
The first time it happened was completely accidental. He’d arrived at the building in the middle of the night, bruised, bleeding and too disoriented to realize that the window he’d come through was not his.
That night, the noise of a heavy body collapsing onto the floor woke you up. For one terrifying moment, you believed someone had broken into your apartment, only to switch on the lamp and find the city’s superhero groaning and pressing his hands to his side. His suit was torn there, and blood soaked through the ruined fabric onto your rug.
He barely lifted his head when he heard you gasp, the lens of his mask focusing on your figure standing there with wide eyes, wearing only an oversized shirt.
“Wrong window,” he choked, then tried to hold himself up but immediately collapsed again. “Dammit,” he cursed, waiting for you to freak out any second now.
You could have, but instead you rushed to him and knelt beside him.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Your hands hovered helplessly over his body, trying to see how bad the damage was in the dark. “You need a hospital–”
“No!” He snapped, trying to turn away but failing miserably. “I’ll be fine, I heal quickly.”
“You still need to stop the bleeding,” you countered, folding your knees under your body so you could rest on your calves. “Listen, I can help you. I took some medical courses last year and I have a kit somewhere.”
You looked at him with pleading eyes. He’d saved the city so many times, the fucking world, it was the least you could do to give something back.
He considered his options for a second, and to be honest he didn’t have many. His body was betraying him, and he couldn’t even get up to fix it himself like usual.
The blood loss made him nod, and you wasted no time in getting up and finding said kit. The blood loss also made him drift in and out of consciousness as you tended to the wounds on his ribs as much as you could.
It did not make him less cautious of you though. When you noticed the rip on his mask over a nasty gash on his neck and reached for it, his hand closed around your wrist and even half conscious, his grip was strong.
“Please,” he whispered. Pleaded. “Keep it on.”
The fear in his voice made you promise you would. Even if you couldn’t get to that gash properly. Even when he fell asleep on your floor and didn’t wake up for six whole hours.
The next morning, he opened his eyes and found you sitting on your bed, still staring at him.
His hands patted his chest, and confirmed his arachnid powers had done its job and healed him mostly. But most importantly, his mask was still in place. With no warning from E.V of it being removed. He learned that you’d spent the night making sure he was still breathing without seeing his face.
That had been one year ago.
After thanking you profoundly for helping him, he’d repaired your window, apologized several times, and disappeared into the apartment next door. He then considered moving into another building, but the thought was brushed away very quickly when he remembered the balance in his bank account.
So he acted more careful instead. For a while, he only turned back home when your curtains were already closed, or he only left the apartment when you had already left for your job (because yes, he absolutely researched the hell out of you after that night.)
Then he moved to the attic of the building. Bigger space, no neighbors, no risks. No you. Or at least he thought.
Because some nights…some delirious nights he still found your window a few stories down, and the accidental visits became less accidental. When he was too badly injured to care for himself, he came to you, even after you confessed your degree had nothing to do with medicine.
When he noticed you understood about his equipment malfunctioning, he’d bring it for you to inspect. When he became too reckless with himself you talked his ear off about how being difficult to kill did not make him immortal.
Somewhere along the way, you became spiderman’s friend.
Spiderman was safer. With you, spiderman was the only part of him he could let you see. Because that was the thing, you only knew the masked superhero.
He’d spent so much time blocking away his identity, making peace with the fact that there was no longer anyone in the world who would call him Peter and know exactly who that person was. That name only belonged to the people that once knew him, and no longer existed, so he never gave it to you.
Never showed you more than a sliver of skin when his mask rode up or glimpses of his abdomen when you tended to his wounds. He always kept that barrier and you respected it, even on those nights he was too weak to stop you. Even if sometimes not knowing the color of his eyes kept you up at night.
A promise was a promise.
Maybe that’s why he kept coming. Why he trusted you with a certainty he couldn’t understand. Why he eventually showed you his new living quarters in the attic and let you spend time with him. Why half a year ago, he added another chair next to his desk so you could work together, or help him when he was out patrolling and needed an extra set of eyes.
“I’m officially the girl in the chair, spidey,” you joked that time as you sat next to him, spinning around in your chair.
He’d gone quiet immediately, his body tensing up enough to make you frown, but then managed a small smile and said you were. You pretended you didn’t notice him being too quiet as he worked on his inhibitor after that.
He was wearing a hoodie, sweatpants and the mask. Always the mask that didn’t quite let you see through him. After a moment of quiet, you rolled your chair closer to his and nudged his arm playfully.
“You know I can’t keep calling you spidey forever, right?”
He snapped out of his trance, and the chuckle that came from under the fabric was unmistakable.
“Why not?” He nudged your arm back, but still focused on the device he was hunched over. “I like spidey.”
You put your elbow on the desk, resting your cheek on your hand so you could lean a little closer.
“I like it too, but it feels ridiculous after having my hands all over your body almost every night.”
The moment the words left your lips, you realized how bad that sounded. He straightened up, turning toward you.
“Wow.” Even if you couldn’t see the smile on his face, the lenses of his mask were quite expressive sometimes. He was amused.
“That came out very wrong,” you said immediately, before he bursted into laughter. He had been laughing more since you entered his life. “You know what I meant,” you whined, laughing too with heat flooding your cheeks.
“I think I know,” he chuckled, making you roll your eyes.
“I’m being serious though,” you added, a little more quietly. “You don’t have to say your real name. Just give me something.”
“Mmm…” he acted like has considering it, going back to tinkering with the piece of metal between his fingers, but then his eyes drifted to the flowers he’d bought that morning, and the name came out of his lips before he could think twice about it. “You can call me Maynard.”
“Maynard?” You repeated, suppressing a chuckle. “You don’t sound like a Maynard. That’s like an 80 year old man’s name.”
“That’s all I can give you,” he shrugged playfully.
You had a feeling it went deeper than that, but you’d also learned not to push it with him.
“Alright. Maynard,” you nodded, “but don’t expect me to use that name unless you’re dying. Guess I’ll stick to spidey for now,” you chuckled, going back to your own work as he hummed in agreement.
The conversation ended there. With him trying not to think about your hands all over his body in…different conditions.
Peter didn’t know exactly when his gratitude became longing. He could not identify the moment the friendship, the closeness, or just your smile, shifted into something he craved everyday.
Despite the mask and the fake name, he knew that after years of being no one to everyone, he had become someone to you. And you had become everything to him. Even if it was behind walls he’d built, you were the person who knew him better than anyone alive.
Which is why, the night he lost control of himself after an unknown dust was thrown at him in a fight, he chose not to crash land into your room.
Peter hit the floor of the dark attic with a loud thud, as his senses went overboard. His suit was sticking to his body uncomfortably due to the sweat coating his feverish skin. The fabric was intact, with no visible wounds in his body, just that burning sensation of something running through his veins.
And that dark part of him he’d managed to lock down with the inhibitor, trying to claw its way out.
“What the…what the fuck is going on,” he cursed, clutching his heaving chest as he panted against the worn wood floors. “I can’t–I can’t breathe…”
The computer’s monotone voice broke through the silence.
“You have arrived injured. I’m letting her know–”
“NO!” He cut the AI off, “EV, don’t tell her–”
“Message already sent.”
He glanced up at the digital clock on his desk. 2:18 am.
He groaned, grabbing his head when a wave of migraine hit him. He knew what came after that. The black eyes. The desire to break. To take. But this time something felt different. It was like a pull, looking for something or someone…for…for you?
Oh fuck.
You were going to come in and you were going to see him like this. No, no–
“Spidey?” You asked from behind the door, knocking exactly twice before opening it anyways.
The air changed the exact moment you walked in, and that something inside him shifted too. It became aware that the only thing it craved to survive was in the room now.
He needed to get to you. He needed to pin you down and–
“Don’t!” He managed to scream, holding his hand up weakly when you scrambled toward him.
You stopped right in your tracks, eyes wide and running all over him, searching for torn fabric, blood, or anything that would explain why he looked like every breath was painful.
“What happened?” You frowned, when you couldn’t find any source. “Did you get hurt?”
You instinctively stepped forward, but he waved his hand in front of him again.
“Stop, stop, stop,” he said quickly, “don’t come any closer.”
The harshness in his voice caught you off guard, but what sealed the deal was him dragging himself further away from you. It was barely more than a clumsy, desperate crawl, but he managed to put a decent distance between you before collapsing against the side of his thrifted couch.
He avoided looking at you. The oversized shirt covering your body, the comfy shorts you were probably wearing, the way your hair looked messy from rolling out of bed as soon as you got EV’s warning even if you had work the next morning.
You stayed right where you were, watching him. His suit had always fit him like it was painted on his skin, but every pant made his chest rise and fall beneath the fabric so violently that you wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped at the seams.
This reminded you too much of the changes that happened in him months ago.
It started with a sharpened temper, then the heightened sensitivity to everything, the black covering his eyes, and moments during patrol when his reactions became simply frightening for someone who had as much strength as he did. But you were supposed to have stopped it.
“Is it the inhibitor?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, “is it failing?”
“I–I don’t know…I was hit with some dust out there,” he breathed. “I think it’s tampering with it…my head is killing me. Everything is too much.”
You nodded, turning toward the workstation.
“I will check the programming. Just hold on.” Not your best attempt at reassuring him, but he groaned in acknowledgment.
“EV?”
The computer woke when you touched the keyboard, illuminating the dark attic in a wash of blue light.
“Online.”
“Please run a diagnostic on the inhibitor and any possible interference.”
“Beginning diagnostic.”
You waited impatiently for the results, tapping your fingers on the desk while you watched him from the corner of your eye.
Over there, he…he was doing his best trying to breathe.
This obviously wasn't his first time having sensory overload. When the animal tried to take over the human part of him, everything in the city became impossible to escape. Not a single movement, or sound, or simple existence within miles was unnoticed by him.
But this time? The rest of the city had disappeared. There were no sirens in the distance, or voices coming through the walls, or every heartbeat in the building pounding in his head.
There was only you.
Your rapid heartbeat echoing inside him. He felt every tap of your fingers against the wood, every slight catch in your breathing each time he made another involuntary and pathetic sound from his spot on the floor.
Your scent…God, your scent filled the entire apartment.
The scent he found himself coming back to so often that it scared him. He didn’t want the attachment. The possibility of having someone again only to risk losing them again.
That same scent was making every muscle in his body react in a way he didn’t understand. It made him, and the other him, wanna do things to you he had only dreamed of in his wildest fantasies. Things he wasn’t proud of, things he wouldn’t dare to say out loud, even if he looked at you through the lenses of his mask and you couldn’t see the black in his eyes.
He pressed the back of his head against the couch harshly.
This was wrong. So wrong.
His senses were supposed to consume everything when the change came. Instead, they had fixed themselves entirely on you.
He could feel the heat of your body from across the room as though you were still in front of him. Could remember with sickening detail how soft your hands looked when they reached for him. Could almost feel the burn of the touch that had never landed because he stopped you.
What if he’d let you? What if he’d felt the way your hands ran all over his body? What if you’d moved them lower, and lower, as your mouth–
“Diagnostic complete.”
Your heads snapped toward the screen.
“There’s no external damage affecting the integrity of the device. I detected a foreign biotoxin in the bloodstream that may be bypassing the inhibitor, activating the suppressed arachnid hormones.”
“What biotoxin?” You frowned.
“Unknown. No matches found in available databases.”
Great. He thought. He had no time to take a bath with Yelena Belova to find out what the stupid dust was.
The screen changed, displaying a model of his nervous system. There were yellow bright lines pulsing quickly, running all the way from the base of his brain down the length of his spine. Something unknown was moving through his blood, altering the part of him he had spent months forcing into submission.
He sucked in a breath as he watched you read the screen. Your eyes were focused, and a bead of sweat made its way down the side of your forehead.
He suddenly felt the need to lick it off.
Wanted to run his tongue from the base of your neck to the back of your ear. Wanted to fist your hair and make your heart beat out of your chest from how good he knew he could make you feel–
“The effects remain within his enhanced tolerance. However, prolonged exposure to certain hormones can cause extreme distress without relief.”
“What hormones?” Your voice, worried and unknowing of his thoughts only made him feel guiltier.
It took him a second to realize what you asked, but EV threw him under the bus before he could say anything.
“There’s a significant rise in reproductive hormones. The unknown toxin is inducing a strong mating response in him.”
Mating response. He stopped breathing.
Your eyes slowly moved from the monitor to him, and he saw the moment your attention dropped lower to the tent of his pants.
That suit concealed nothing on a good day. On one like this? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck–
He shifted almost immediately, but the movement only worsened the pressure, pulling a helpless groan from his throat that made your pulse jump. You looked away at once, turning back to the computer.
“Is there a way we can…umm…stop it?” You asked hesitantly.
“The subject is experiencing severe sexual arousal with a fixation on a nearby individual,” she explained, because fuck him if he wasn’t the unluckiest individual on earth. “Acting upon it can be a positive option to relieve sexual tension.”
He wished the floor would open beneath him, swallow him, and never ever EVER spit him back out again.
Your pulse was absolutely hammering after that. He caught the sudden change in your scent. There was a sharp spark of surprise, nervousness, and something else beneath it that his altered senses fed on immediately.
You kept your eyes fixed on the monitor, although the data had stopped meaning anything the moment you heard fixation on a nearby individual.
“Is that what you really feel?” You asked softly after a moment.
His head fell forward, catching it between his gloved hands. He didn’t know how to answer without making everything worse.
Although, after what EV said, could it really be worse?
“…Yes.” The word came out rougher than he expected. Yet still not enough for what was happening inside him. “It’s like…I can only feel you. All of you.”
Heat rose to your face once again.
“What does that mean?”
Don’t say anything, don’t–
“I can smell you.” Great start, idiot. He cleared his dry throat before continuing. “I can smell your shampoo…the lotion you use…the ink on your hands from your favorite pen.”
He chose not to mention he could also smell the adrenaline on you. The heat gathering slowly beneath your skin.
Your eyes dropped to your hands, and under the dim light of the computer, you caught the ink stains in them from your journaling session before bed.
“I can hear your heartbeat changing every time I speak,” he added. Okay, that one slipped out.
You swallowed. And god, he felt that in his own throat.
The suit was suffocating him at this point. He wanted to rip it off as much as he wanted to rip off the fabric covering the goosebumps on your skin.
“Is it only because I’m nearby?” You asked, gathering the courage to turn your chair to him.
White lenses met you across the room. He dragged in another shaky breath of oxygen made of you as he thought about his next words. He could’ve lied. He should’ve lied. But instead, chemically overwhelmed and stripped of every defense he possessed, he gave you the truth.
“No.”
His voice was firmer this time. No hesitation in it despite the thousand red alarms pounding in his head telling him to shut up.
“It picked you–no, I picked you for a reason,” he added. “And it’s not just me. The other…the other me wants you too.”
His voice went lower on the last part, that told you how much it cost him to admit that.
The silence following his confession was heavy. For a moment he wished he could read your mind. For all he could feel of you, your thoughts were unreachable.
His own mind was a mess. The impulses didn’t feel like thoughts anymore, just his body feeding him instructions.
Get up. Cross the room. Touch her. Breathe her in.
His palms shook with the urge to close around you. His teeth ached with the need to graze your skin. His eyes burned with the desire to see beyond fabric.
Every part of him seemed convinced that the small distance between you was a mistake he needed to correct. That he needed to breathe you in until his lungs burned. Drag his mouth along the inside of your wrist and taste the pulse there.
He hated it.
He hated that something inside him could look at the person he cared for the most and reduce her to an answer for his pain.
“EV, how long is this state going to last?” He asked the computer, followed by a weak cough as he clutched his side.
“Your enhanced physiology is struggling to break down the toxin’s structure. I estimate a time between ten to twelve hours before it’s metabolized. However, neurological collapse is expected before that timeframe.”
“What?” You looked at him. “There’s no way we’re letting that happen. Maybe I can–”
“Don’t even start,” he cut you off, shaking his head profusely.
“So what? I’m supposed to sit here betting on whether your body collapses on hour three or hour six?”
“I’ll just pass out, big deal. I’m not putting you in danger because of this. I can handle it.”
“You’re barely handling it now. There’s no danger in trying–”
“You don’t understand what’s happening inside me right now,” he argued, raising his voice. “This other thing, the one the inhibitor controls it’s…awake. That part of me doesn’t think like I do. It doesn’t care if you're scared, or hurting–”
“You wouldn’t hurt me–”
“You don’t know that!” He snapped, his fist struck the floor next to him, hard enough to make the worn wood crack beneath his knuckles.
The sudden noise made you flinch. He smelled the flash of fear moving through your body for only a second.
One second enough.
“Fuck–that is what I mean,” he cursed, covering his lenses with his hands. “I don’t…I don’t know if I’d be gentle. I can’t risk this, I can't…shit, I can’t risk you.”
The words, said with so much pain, and honesty, seemed to settle somewhere deep in your chest.
“Okay,” you nodded, settling deeper in your chair. “But I’m not leaving you like this. I can’t risk you either.”
He shuddered a painful exhale. His head dropped to the couch again, shutting his eyes in preparation of what the next hours of torture would be.
Except…he didn’t even last ten minutes.
The suit was killing him, so he decided he’d be better without it. He reached desperately behind his back, clumsily undoing the zippers that tied the suit together.
He could feel your wide eyes on him as he tugged the fabric off his shoulders, peeling it off his sweaty arms. He groaned when he lifted his hips and the suit grazed his swollen crotch. In a matter of seconds that felt like eternity he managed to break free from the spandex, and threw it away somewhere in the room. He’d undressed down to his dark boxers, mask still in place, revealing the marble sculpture of his body.
You let out a shaky breath from your spot, eyes raking over a body you’d only seen partially. He was covered in wounds most of the time, but this time, he only had faint bruises from the night before decorating his chiseled abs.
His tight muscles flexed with every rise of his chest, his bulge straining harder the more you devoured him, pressing against his pants, making him curse quietly.
You noticed, and returned your eyes to the screen to track his vitals.
He felt grateful that you’d given him that grace, but just you being in that room made it very hard for him to think of anything other than your existence.
Too hard.
Before he knew his hand drifted down the growing ache in his crotch, trying to feel some relief, but every rub he made over the fabric of his boxers sent a jolt of pain through his body instead of pleasure.
It only made it worse when he realized you were tense at the desk, trying very hard to keep your focus on the screen and not on the whines he was letting out.
“…I’m sorry,” he apologized instantly, breathlessly, moving his hand away. “I didn’t–”
“Don’t apologize,” you shook your head quickly, eyes still on the screen. “You…you can do whatever you need.”
He didn’t say anything, just whined in pain again, so you took it as a chance to say it before you regretted it.
“But my offer still stands, spidey.”
What a polite way of saying ‘I’d let you fuck me into next week so you can control your horny arachnid hormones, spidey.’
Fucking hell.
“I’m okay I just–God I didn’t–I didn’t think it would feel this way…” He laughed humorlessly, staring at the ceiling. “But I–I got this. Yes.”
You kept quiet, hearing him mumble to himself about a hundred times about how he had this.
“I’m okay…I’m good…it’s fine…”
He wasn’t.
“Fuck I don’t…I’m going to die…”
For God’s sake.
“I think I can help.”
By the time he registered the words and looked back at you, you had already moved from your chair and shortened the distance between you, kneeling in front of him.
His senses went from one thousand to one million. He forced his hands behind his back, trying to keep the animal from grabbing you and getting it over with.
“What–what are you doing?” He stammered nervously, the lenses of his mask going wide.
“Maynard,” you said quietly, ignoring the way his body tensed up at that name. “Would it make you feel better if I put my hand here?”
You placed your hand right in the center of his chest, and your cold palm met his overheated skin. He gasped, feeling every individual fingerprint on his skin. He wanted them marked on him. Tattooed.
His back arched from the couch, with a strangled gasp breaking from beneath the mask. The relief hit him all at once, through a simple contact that felt like salvation.
Your hand steadied him for only a glorious second, but now that you had touched him, his body knew precisely what it had been denied.
It wanted more.
His own hand closed around yours so suddenly that you almost pulled back, but he loosened his grip the instant he realized how tightly he was holding you.
“Sorry–”
“Don’t apologize.” You pressed harder.
He was burning.
The heat beneath your palm scared you, but what scared you more was the violent pounding of his heart beating against your hand so so quickly.
“Better?” You asked quietly, trying not to bite your bottom lip at the image of him crumbling under your palm.
“So fucking better,” he said breathlessly, pressing your hand tighter against his chest. “I…dammit–”
“Breathe,” you reminded.
His head fell back against the couch. Chest rising up and down, up and down, up and down.
Just take her, man, she’s right there–
Your free hand accidentally brushed his neck, right where the border of the mask started, snapping him right back. He grabbed your hand, not harshly, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.
“Please.” Was all he said.
Leave it on.
It brought you back to that first night he’d crashed into your life.
“I wasn’t planning on removing it,” you whispered, leaning closer. “You can keep it on. But let me help you…I really want to.”
See? She wants it. She needs it so bad.
He hated that the other guy was right. He knew you meant what you said because he could smell the proof pooling between your thighs.
Fuck it.
In a sudden movement he reached for your waist, dragging you forward so you were straddling his lap. The bulge you landed on made you gasp, hands instinctively grabbing onto his sweaty biceps for balance when he let out a broken groan that vibrated against your core.
His hand cupped your jaw, bringing it closer to his face, and your dilated pupils reflected on the white of his lenses.
“I can feel that you want this,” he mumbled, tilting his head to the side. “Please, say it again…”
You shifted your hips, barely, so minimal yet he felt it travel through his whole body. He hissed, tightening the grip on your jaw.
“I want this,” you repeated firmly, moving your head closer to his ear. “You can take whatever you need…”
You moved your hips again, more deliberate this time, pulling a broken whine from him. The toxin made every contact feel like electricity racing down his spine, straight to the heavy, aching weight of his cock under you.
“Yes…yeah just like that…” he panted. “Just let me…”
His hands landed on your waist, moving you back and forth at a quicker pace over his bulge. You gasped at the friction, fingers digging into his shoulders, while he let out a collection of muffled words you could barely understand.
“...M–more…” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. “I can’t–I need…”
“What do you need? More what?”
“More contact.”
His hands left your waist to grab the hem of your shirt.
“Can I?” He whispered.
You nodded eagerly, gasping when his hands shifted to the collar of your shirt instead, ripping it off your body with a sharp pull.
“Oh fuck,” he cursed when he realized there was nothing under that shirt, and saw your nipples hardening instantly under the cold air.
He resisted the urge to bite them through the mask.
His hands, however, wasted no time to cup your breasts with a broken whine. His thumbs played with your nipples, tugging at them as hard as he could allow himself to without hurting you.
“Fuck you’re perfect…you’re so perfect…” he whispered, more to himself than you, pulling some soft whimpers out of you when he tugged a little harder. His hands drifted to your lower half, to the hem of the last piece keeping your body from his greedy eyes. “These too,” he said, “please, can I? I want to feel you.”
“Yes,” you nodded, already out of air.
You didn’t even know why you tried to get off his lap to take the shorts off properly, when he just did the same as the shirt: ripped it in half where it rested on your hips, yanked it off from your body and threw the ruined pieces far away.
You weren’t wearing anything underneath.
“I can smell you. God, I can smell you. You’re so–oh God…”
Now he could feel your wetness drenching his boxers, dripping onto the fabric. He could almost taste it in his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to drown in it for hours.
“Can–can I–?”
You didn’t even let him finish, you grabbed his hand and placed it right between your legs.
Water. He found water in the middle of the dessert.
His hand moved carefully through your wet folds once, twice, delighting in your warmth, the way you felt, the way you let out the prettiest sound he had ever heard in his miserable life.
“Fuck…” you cursed softly, moving your hips eagerly when he kept stroking slow. Too slow. “Touch me, please.”
He obliged, fingers finding your clit in movements that had you gripping his shoulders tighter, eyes fluttering shut so beautifully he had to bite his lip to not let out a pathetic sound.
“Been wanting this,” he mumbled. “Longer than today. Longer than tonight.”
His finger slid inside of you, making you moan when he curled it just right.
“There were…there were nights I thought about you riding my hand,” he kept going, voice cracking as he added a second finger, stretching you more. “I’ve wanted you for so long–not just because of this shit in my blood. Because it’s you.”
Every word made you clench around his fingers. Every admission pulled another shaky moan out of your throat. You were a mess already, breathless, hips rolling down to meet the thrust of his fingers.
“Oh my God–don’t stop, please don’t stop–”
“Not stopping, baby.”
He kept working you open, the white lenses of the mask never leaving your face. His free hand slid up your chest, settling between your breasts.
“I’m–I’m close,” you managed. “I’m so close–”
“Come on…you’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”
The heel of his palm lifted to press against your clit. You were right there, right on the edge, about to come on his hand and drip down his boxers–
“Please,” he begged, unable to keep it in. “Let me fuck you after this…please. I need to be inside you. I’ve needed it for so long–just let me, after you come, please, please–”
The plea undid you.
You came with a broken cry, stopping your movements as your walls pulsed around him. The sound you made against his shoulder nearly finished him right there.
It took you a second to just breathe again, your chest synching up with his in the search of oxygen. He kept rocking his hand slowly, not just to work you through the aftershocks, but because the friction of your pussy in his hand brought the tiniest relief to him.
You just stayed there as the last soft waves rolled through you.
Once you were able to see clearly again, you let out a breathless chuckle and straightened back up.
He needed you. He needed you so badly you really thought he was going to die if you didn’t help him.
You placed one hand on his chest as the other reached under you, slipping inside the fabric of his boxers without breaking eye contact.
The second your bare fingers brushed him, his hips jerked hard under you.
“You said please,” you whispered breathlessly.
You wrapped your fingers around him and pulled him free.
His cock sprang out, heavy and flushed between your bodies, so thick and hard and painful. The head was red and shiny, with precum dripping down the vein that ran along his length. The tip brushed the skin of your stomach, leaving a warm, wet patch that made the hair on your arms go up. He could smell the small flicker of intimidation sparking inside you, but the want that followed was stronger.
You stroked him a few times, slowly just as he’d touched you at first.
“Oh my God, your hand–your hand–”
Another thick bead of precum welled up and spilled over your fingers. Whether it was the toxin or just his enhanced physiology, he was dripping for you.
Flustered wasn’t enough of a word when you had his leaking cock in your hand.
His hands slid down to your hips, gripping tighter, guiding you up as if he was about to lift you then pulling you back down immediately.
Fuck her. Fuck her right now.
“Please, I need–I need to feel you…” he cried out. “Let me…let me…”
You nodded just as desperately, lifting yourself up as he helped, steadying you with shaking hands until the thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance. You both exhaled hard at the same time when you started to sink down, taking him inch by inch.
He was big. Almost too much. The burn of it made your breath hitch, but the way he cursed under his breath multiple times, completely at your mercy, made you keep going until he was buried balls deep.
You sat there for a moment, breathing heavily, and so full of him.
When the initial sting faded away, you started moving. He let you set the pace as you adjusted, holding back his need of thrusting up. His fingers dug on your skin, not lifting just holding you, but the more that you moved, the more that control started to waver.
He could feel it coming. The change.
You kept moaning, bouncing on top of him, completely unaware of his self restraint crumbling away.
His grip slowly tightened when his eyes began turning completely black under his mask. That careful, pathetic boy who’d been begging disappeared beneath something more…primal.
Fuck. Whatever had been holding him back finally snapped.
The next thing he knew, his hands slid under your thighs with sudden strength. He lifted you up in one motion until only the thick head of him remained inside you, held you there for a second as the last part of him tried to remember how to be gentle–then snapped his hips up hard.
That first thrust pulled a sharp moan out of you, but there was no chance to adjust this time. He set a relentless pace almost immediately, using pure strength to bounce you on his cock while he drove up to meet every drop of your body, buried so deep it stole your breath every time he bottomed out.
“Oh my–May…Maynard–” the name you barely used on him slipped out in the middle of the frenzy, but his hand reached behind your head to pull your hair back slightly as he kept thrusting up.
“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, his voice so different from just minutes earlier. “It’s Peter. Call me Peter when I’m inside you.”
He didn’t even give you time to process, still lifting and dropping you onto his cock at the exact hard rhythm he wanted. The only one that satisfied the need inside of him. Your hands instinctively reached for the edge of the arm of the couch he was leaning against, fingers digging into the worn fabric as he hit that spot inside you over and over again.
“Of fuck…Peter–fuck…yes…”
“That’s better,” he approved. “I was right, you’re so so perfect…taking every inch like you need it as bad as I do…”
A desperate sound slipped out of you at the praise, he could feel your walls clenching tight around him as your body went for that second orgasm, your eyes were fluttering shut, almost there–
“Nuh–uh,” he denied immediately, stopping mid thrust, holding you pressed against him as you gasped, surprised and confused.
“What–what happened? I was about to–”
“I want you to hold it for me. I know you can.”
That twisted part of him enjoyed the slow realization on your face.
Even if you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew the same spiderman he’d been without the inhibitor, was the one with your body at his mercy now.
Good.
He stayed buried to the hilt for a moment, breathing hard behind the mask. When your breathing finally slowed down and accepted that the high never came, he stood up. Still inside you, he walked you to the bed in the corner of the room.
His bed.
He pulled out with a wet sound that made both of you groan, then laid you down roughly near the edge of the mattress. He kneeled down, strong hands hooking behind your knees and dragging your legs over his shoulders, folding you open for him completely.
“Look at the ceiling,” he ordered. “Don’t look at me.”
You obeyed, staring up at the wood beams high above you while he tugged the bottom of the mask just high enough to free his mouth.
Peter leaned down and pressed a few soft kisses to your swollen folds. He wasn’t necessarily eating you out, just giving a few loud smooches that felt good enough to make you grip the sheets.
“M’sorry, you were so perfect there…” he mumbled condescendingly against your most sensitive spots. “But I need you to hold on a little longer. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
You nodded, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. Maybe too eager. Maybe too pathetic. Just like he’d been. Had he pumped that toxin into you?
Either way, you didn’t care. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this version of him.
He laughed right over your clit when you moaned loudly, after he moved his tongue in a slow, torturous swipe over it.
“Was back there too much?” He cooed. “Maybe I just need to stretch you more...”
Two fingers slid inside you, so easily, but the sudden stretch still dragged a whine out of your throat. He curled them immediately, finding the spot that made your hips jerk.
“Peter…”
“Huh?” He acted coy, pumping his fingers with a rhythm that kept you right on the edge without letting you tip over. He added a third finger, making your back arch from the mattress. “Keep holding it in.”
Every shake of your body fed the stupid toxin inside him. Having you like this…really trying to keep your body from coming apart because he said so.
God. He was never going back.
“You just took my cock. I think you can take three fingers with no problem.”
He kept the same relentless pace, chuckling when your body started twitching again.
“Shhh, you’re perfect, absolutely perfect…”
“Peter…” you called out again, hand dropping the sheet to find his shoulder instead. “I need…need…”
“Need what?”
“Need you inside me…please I won’t–I won’t hold for much longer just–fuck me.”
He stopped altogether, a smirk you couldn’t see stretching the corner of his mouth. He pulled his fingers out with a wet pop, licking them clean before tugging his mask back in place and standing up.
“Yeah?”
Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed for a moment before his hands gripped your hips and turned you over. He moved you higher up the bed, grabbing one of the pillows, and shoving it under your hips, tilting your lower body up for him.
He then climbed onto the bed behind you and knelt between your spread thighs, the mattress dipping under his weight as one hand stroked down the length of your spine.
But something made him stop.
“This fucking mask–” he cursed under his breath. “It’s suffocating me.”
The sweat on his forehead had pooled under the mask, making it so sticky over his eyebrows that it was affecting the lenses he was trying to see you through.
“I need you to be a good girl for me,” he added breathlessly, yet still commanding enough. “Keep your head on the mattress. Ass up. Don’t turn around.”
You nodded. Too eagerly again. Couldn’t care any less again.
He didn’t think twice, just yanked the mask off and tossed it aside. It landed near you, making you bury half your face on the sheets as if staring at the mask alone would be disobeying his commands.
The sound he made when the cool air hit his face was pure relief. He swiped the sweat off with his forearm, finally seeing you clearly. Face down. Eyes squeezed shut. Already clutching the sheets.
“You look so pretty like this,” he mumbled. “All spread out for me…waiting.”
“Peter…” you whined, lifting your ass slightly from the pillow.
“I know, I know. You’re okay.” He couldn’t keep the smirk away when he added, “you said please.”
He reached between you, guiding the thick head of his cock between your thighs until it nudged against your entrance. You were still soft and ready and perfect.
Peter pushed in slowly, letting you feel every inch as he sank deep and deep and deeper.
He braced one hand beside your head and kept the other on your hip, pushing you into the mattress as his thighs hit the back of yours. Slap. Slap. Slap. The position left almost no space between your bodies, with Peter pressing his chest against your back.
“Fuck…you feel so good like this…so pretty taking me.”
He kept going, making the mattress creak and the base of the bed hit the brick wall repeatedly. Your desperate moans ran through his body like electricity, making something inside him crack open again.
What? What is–
The moment his rhythm stuttered, he shook his head, trying to clear it. Beads of sweat flew from his hair to your back.
“God–you…you’re making me–” The roughness of his thrusts slowed down immediately, inhaling a sharp intake of air as he felt the change again. “I can’t, I can’t…”
He lifted his gaze to the window behind the bed and noticed his eyes had turned back to its original color.
“Oh my god,” he gasped, stopping altogether. He straightened up, still kneeling and inside you, but panicking. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened I–“
“Peter!” You cut him off, pushing yourself back, closer to him, without turning around. “Shut up and fuck me.”
The order left your mouth breathless, pushing back against him even more to make the point clear. His hands twitched when they gripped your hips again.
“Okay, okay…” he panted, groaning when you dropped back on the bed and his cock almost left the warmth of your pussy. “I’m sorry–if I was too rough, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
He picked up the pace again, but the words tumbling out of him now were pure pleading Peter again.
“Don’t turn around–don’t turn around–fuck, fuck…” slap, slap, slap. “You can come now. Please. Please, I want to feel it–you’d come apart so pretty on me, I know you would…pleasepleaseplease–”
His final permission and the desperate way he said it made you crash harder than the first time, crying out into the mattress. The second he felt you coming around him, he knew he couldn’t last much longer either.
“Can I–inside…please, can I??…let me fill you up–”
“Yes–inside, Peter, do it inside me…”
He buried himself to the hilt with a strained groan and finally came. The orgasm tearing out of him was harder and longer than anything he’d ever felt, holding you there, filling you up.
You gasped against the sheets, breathless, as the waves of cum seemed to go on forever, flooding you with warm and thick ropes in every spurt as he emptied himself inside you.
“Thank you…thank you…” His forehead dropped between your shoulder blades, sending broken gasps against your skin as he kept coming. “You are so perfect–fuck…so perfect…thank you…”
The pollen wrung him dry until he could barely breathe, and even then he kept rolling his hips weakly, chasing the last of it while he slowly softened inside you.
When it finally eased, the pain, the need, the hunger…he pulled out slowly with a whine, and half collapsed over you. His arms held most of his weight as he planked above you, but you could feel every ridge of his muscles brushing your sweaty skin.
Peter’s eyes fluttered shut, feeling exhausted and aching in the best way, almost lulled by the sounds of your agitated breaths.
You both felt the warm trail of liquid leaking out between your bodies and neither of you moved or said anything for a while. He could’ve stayed like that forever, really. With your naked body under him, no masks, no barriers, just your swollen pussy leaking out his seed–
“Successful ejaculation brought down the arachnid hormone levels immediately. Inhibitor working within regular parameters now. Congratulations, Peter.”
EV’s monotone voice cut through the silence.
It took two seconds of shock before you both broke into breathless laughter. His teeth grazed your back as your bodies vibrated in sync from the amusement and overall flustering after everything that happened.
“Thank you, EV,” Peter muttered.
“You’re welcome. I gathered data and the released semen volume exceeds standard parameters by two hundred and twenty six percent due to the high hormonal concentration. Hydration, clean up and rest are advised.”
“For fucks sake…” Peter cursed under his breath.
“Oh god…” you mumbled against the sheets.
That was your call back to reality.
Peter felt you move under him, reaching blindly to the side until your hand found the mask. You lifted it over your shoulder, offering it to him without looking.
“I don’t want to,” he said, too quickly, then cleared his throat. “I…I don’t want to put it back on.”
“Then I’ll close my eyes,” you offered instead.
“No–I mean…you don’t have to. I don’t want to wear it around you anymore. Not after…all of this,” he admitted sheepishly.
“But you told me to not turn around,” you reminded him, dropping the mask on the mattress again. “And that was you, not the darker you.”
He chuckled, nodding even if you couldn’t see him yet.
“Yeah, because if I saw your face while I was balls deep inside you I would’ve busted before you came.”
There it was. He said it. No turning back now.
At least it got a chuckle from you too.
“Listen I…I meant everything I said. Everything. The wanting, the nights I thought about you,” he confessed. “I don’t want you to feel like I just used you when…when there was always a reason why I needed you like oxygen tonight.”
Your breath hitched, and his hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him, and when you didn’t push away…he exhaled in relief behind you.
“So maybe…you can turn around now. If–if you want to. Know the real me.”
“I would really like that,” you whispered without hesitation.
You tried lifting yourself up to turn around, but he did most of the job, moving away the pillow he had placed under you and helping you roll onto your back. You closed your eyes, at least until you were facing him completely, and took a deep breath. Holding onto his biceps for moral support, you finally opened them again.
Seeing his face for the first time felt so intimate, even after everything you just did.
There he was. The same guy who just fucked you into next week, looking more shy and boyish than you could’ve ever imagined.
Brown eyes. Dark, curly hair sticking to his forehead. A nervous smile tugging at the corner of his gorgeous mouth.
So young. So earnest. So yours.
Not spidey anymore. Just Peter.
Your Peter.
Thank you so much for reading 🤍 I used to write Peter so much back in the day (shoutout to my starktonyx era) and I’ve missed him dearly.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Johnny Storm x fem!reader (VERY established relationship)
Word count: 3.1k Masterlist Request
Summary: your boyfriend Johnny isn’t very appreciative of Joaquin Torres’s attitude during your impromptu trip to Earth-616.
You have been dating Johnny Storm for almost seven years. You have lived at the Baxter Building for for the past four years, very comfortably.
The tabloids and fans ate your relationship up. The entire family adored you. But the question still stands: why hasn’t Johnny Storm proposed to you?
You, the love of his life. His better half, the woman who made him settle down.
You had talked about it, of course you had. You both wanted to get married, wanted at least three kids some day, a dog and maybe even a cat.
But there was still no ring.
You had made your peace with it. So much has changed in the last few years. And here you found yourself on yet another super hero quest.
Not as a super hero yourself, but as support for the team. You didn’t typically tag along on missions, you stayed at home with Franklin in your arms and managed comms and damage control. But this was different.
As you entered earth-616’s atmosphere, your eyes wandered to your left hand, feeling the weightlessness of it still after all these years.
Your mind wandered next… did he truly want to marry you? Was he too comfortable? Were you too much?
“Approaching,” Ben’s deep voice nearly startled you out of your thoughts.
“You okay?” Johnny’s face was etched with concern as you turned to face him.
He sat in the chair beside you, buckled in with a flight suit matching yours.
“As good as any of us can be,” you gave him a tight lipped smile.
He reached over, placing his gloved hand over yours and squeezing.
“Yeah,” he said softly, “I get it.”
This was not the time for the thoughts of your empty ring finger. You were going to a different universe, to save Franklin nonetheless, so you had to focus.
The aircraft settled onto the landing pad with a hiss of hydraulics and the creek of landing gear.
Before the ramp had even fully lowered, voices filtered in from outside.
“The craft finally landed!”
“About time!”
Johnny stood, stretching his shoulders before offering you a hand, “ready?”
You took his hand, “as I’ll ever be.”
You stepped down into a crowd that somehow felt familiar despite belonging to an entirely different universe. You took in the scenery of New York that looked vastly different than yours.
You seemed to be in Midtown, but the air was heavier here. And the buildings were too high and unforgiving.
Captain America was the first to greet Reed, shaking his hand firmly, “we're glad you made it. I’m Sam.”
Introductions blurred together after that.
Bruce Banner.
Shuri.
Yelena Belova.
Bucky Barnes.
And a young man with goggled pushed up into his dark hair suddenly appeared in front of you with the kind of grin that could only belong to someone who had absolutely no sense of personal space.
“Joaquin,” he extended his hand to you, and only you, “the falcon.” He tilted his chin up, as if he had just told you he was the dictator of this world.
You took his hand tentatively, saying your name shyly.
Johnny all but groaned somewhere behind.
“Its nice to meet you,” you added, trying to seem more friendly.
“No,” Joaquin corrected quickly, “it’s nice to meet you.”
Ben coughed loudly into his fist, you could practically feel the sideways glances him and Johnny were giving each other.
Sam looked at Joaquin with the exhausted expression of a parent watching their kid do something embarrassing.
“You took care of all the cross-dimensional logistics?” Joaquin asked.
You shrugged, “I mean, yeah with Reed, I sent you the message once we entered this earth’s atmosphere though. Along with the—”
“Comm reports from your mission with Doom? Read them,” he said with a smirk.
“You read… my comm reports?” You asked, slightly confused, “I didn’t think anyone but Reed read them.”
“I read her comm reports,” Johnny said under his breath.
“No you don’t,” Ben added just as quietly.
Johnny rolled his eyes as they both continued to watch the scene unfold.
“Yeah, you’re like a genius or something,” Joaquin added with a flashy grin.
Johnny leaned toward Ben, “am I being crazy?”
“You’ll need to be more specific,” Ben whispered back.
Johnny scoffed, “is he flirting?”
“Kid's laying it on thicker than gravy,” Ben answered quickly, still in a low whisper.
“I’m gonna do something,” Johnny went to move forward, but Ben put his arm out.
“It’s harmless and it’s kind of funny. Don’t make things weird for us just yet hot head, we just got here,” Ben lectured, earning another eye roll from Johnny.
You pretended not to hear them, politely smiling at the man in front of you.
The introductions continued as everyone walked toward the tower.
Joaquin somehow ended up beside you, even pushing Johnny out of the way at one point. You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation unfolding.
Johnny's eye was twitching as he stood on the other side of you.
Inside Avengers Tower, everyone split off to discuss strategy.
You carried one of the equipment cases toward the briefing room.
Before you could reach for the door Joaquin had already opened it and took the case from your arms with ease.
“Oh wow, thank you,” you said kindly.
“After you,” he nodded to the room as he balanced the case in one hand and held the door open with the other.
You walked through into the conference room, people were filtering in as Reed set up his presentation besides Dr. Banner and Thor.
You were still wrapping your head around how the Norse God of Thunder plays into all of this.
“You hungry? Kitchen's this way,” Joaquin pointed out the door.
“I think we're okay,” Johnny answered from behind you.
His arm slid over your shoulders casually, not in an affectionate way, but a possessive one. Much to his dismay, Joaquin didn’t bat an eye.
“If you need coffee, I know where the good machine is,” he threw you a wink.
“We can figure it out,” Johnny added, pulling you some how closer into his side with a force that nearly knocked you into him.
He wandered off and Johnny stared daggers after him.
You looked up innocently, turning your head to face him, “what?”
His gaze shifted to you, “he is absolutely flirting with you.”
You laughed, “no he is not.”
“Yes he is.”
“No he’s not.”
“He held the door open for you,” Johnny said, like that was all the answer you needed.
You raised your eyebrows, “okay?”
“He complimented literally everything you've ever done, and he doesn’t even know you,” he added.
You shrugged, “I think he’s just friendly, we don’t know their customs on this earth.”
You bumped his shoulder with yours, “Johnny.”
He held your gaze, still with a fire in his eyes, “what?”
“He’s just being nice,” you said softly.
Johnny sighed dramatically, holding you a little tighter against his side, more affectionate than possessive this time.
“If he keeps carrying your bags, I'm setting him on fire,” he deadpanned.
“Well, carry my bags for me, and it shouldn’t be a problem,” you quipped.
He softened, “done deal, my love.”
He kissed the side of your head, which you happily leaned in to.
The weeks that followed blurred together. Strategy meetings, training sessions, all centered around one goal- getting Franklin back.
The day finally came where you were all watching Sue and Reed hold their son again after thinking they’d lost him forever.
You watched as the world stitched itself back together and universes unfolded from the destruction Doom was causing.
And somewhere between it all, you and Joaquin became friends.
It was easy to fall into, he kept you company while you solved equations, made everyone laugh when it felt like nothing was funny, and it was completely platonic… for you.
He'd stop by while you worked in the lab just to bring coffee or complain dramatically about Sam's training exercises.
But the thing is… Johnny never warmed up to him.
Neither did Ben and neither did Reed. Sue barely tolerated him.
“He's too smooth,” Ben muttered one afternoon.
Reed nodded thoughtfully, “there is,” he paused, as if thinking about his language, “statistically an unusual amount of smiling directed specifically toward her.”
Johnny crossed his arms, sighing. “THANK YOU.”
A few nights after Doom's defeat, the Avengers insisted on celebrating. The bar was exactly what you all needed. Sue held Franklin tightly beside Reed and Bucky at the bar.
Ben laughed with Sam and Alexei loud enough to overpower the music.
The low, unfamiliar, music filled the room while heroes from two different universes laughed like normal people for the first time in weeks.
You stood near the dart board, nursing a drink and talking with Yelena when Joaquin wandered over.
“Can I steal her?” He asked quietly, it was the calmest you had ever seen him.
Yelena looked between the two of you, “you're brave.”
He laughed, still somehow being the only one who hasn’t picked up on the fact that you’re in a committed relationship with the human torch.
You followed him toward the quieter end of the bar without a second thought.
He turned and faced you and rubbed the back of his neck, “I know you’re leaving soon…”
Uh oh. Suddenly you could feel the eyes on the both of you. Had Johnny been right this whole time?
“...if maybe you'd want to grab dinner sometime before then,” he finished.
You smiled apologetically, “oh.”
His face fell immediately, “oh?”
“No, no,” you said quickly, “It's just,” you laughed awkwardly, “I’ve actually been with Johnny for... almost seven years.”
Silence. Then Joaquin blinked, “seven?”
“Yeah.” You said calmly.
He looked genuinely horrified, “seven years?"
You nodded, “everyone picked up on it, I just kind of thought you did too.”
He looked across the room toward Johnny, who was already staring at him with a straight face. Then back to you.Then he laughed.
He shook his head, “well, I’m sorry. I didn’t see a ring and if I were with you for seven years, I definitely would've married you by now.”
Across the room, you swore you could see the steam coming from Johnny’s ears out of the corner of your eye.
Joaquin grinned, “I’m just saying.”
Johnny was already walking over, “I am working on it!”
The entire room went quiet. Even Bucky looked amused and Ben was biting back laughter.
Joaquin held both hands up in surrender, a smirk still plastered on his face, “easy, hot shot.”
“I am working on it,” Johnny’s arm found your waist, pulling you into him defensively.
“I didn't say you weren't,” Joaquin said calmly.
“You implied it,” Johnny said, pointing a finger in Joaquin’s direction.
Joaquin shrugged, trying not to laugh at the frustration simmering in Johnny’s tone.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, “baby bird!”
Joaquin threw both hands up again, “I'm done.”
He laughed, clapped Johnny on the shoulder, and wandered away.
Johnny did not laugh.
The walk back to Avengers Tower was unusually quiet.
Everyone else had drifted ahead.
Ben and Reed were discussing the sports teams in this universe with Bucky and Sam.
Sue walked with Franklin, holding his tiny hand in hers and listening to him babble about the stars in the sky.
Leaving you and Johnny several paces behind.
He hadn't said more than three words.
You glanced sideways at him, his hand tightly holding yours, “you okay?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Johnny,” you said softly, “you've been mad ever since the bar.”
“I'm not mad,” he said too defensively.
“You've answered every question with one word, if that,” you pointed out.
He didn’t justify you with a response or even a glance.
You released his hand and stopped walking, “so you are mad.”
He took three more steps before realizing you weren't beside him.
He turned quickly, watching you stand behind him with your arms crossed.
The New York streetlights reflected in his eyes, he walked back a few steps to stand inches from you, “you wanna know why I'm upset?”
You unfolded your arms, “I would love nothing more.”
“Not that it’s about this but,” he exhaled, “I hate to say I told you so… but I told you he was hitting on you. No earth has the custom of holding a ladies things in a friendly way.”
You simply rolled your eyes at him, “yeah. I’m sure you really hate to say I told you so.”
He exhaled and ran both hands through his already messy hair, “I’m not just working on it, okay? I have a ring.”
Your eyes widened as you stared up at him, “wha— what?”
“I have a ring, I bought it months ago, god. Almost a year at this point,” he shoved both his hands in his pockets nervously.
Your heart stopped.
Everything began to spill out, “I’ve just wanted everything to be perfect. It took me a whole year just to find the right diamond for the actual ring itself. Then I had it made.”
His words tumbled over one another so quickly he barely breathed, “I had this whole plan. I was gonna take you back to where we had our first date, then Ben kept telling me nobody cares where it happens and I kept telling him you deserve more than that because you deserve everything and then Galactus showed up.”
You blinked.
“And then I made a whole new plan and then Franklin got kidnapped,” he added, but he wasnt done.
“And then we had the multiverse collapse and Doom and aliens and every single time I thought, 'Okay, after this.' Then something else happened,” his voice cracked with frustrated laughter, “I wanted it to be perfect because you’re perfect.”
He looked at you like he was terrified, “I wanted one day where the universe wasn't ending. And where everything was perfect for you.”
Your eyes were already stinging, “Johnny.”
“But then tonight,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “really since we got here. I’ve just been watching him try to— try to hijack you. Like you were something up for grabs and it has been making me sick. But I trust you and I know you love me, but it just— you aren’t for him!”
You smiled sadly at him, “I know.”
“And when the goddamn bird boy said that,” he shook his head, “I know it was stupid. For one second...maybe you were getting tired of waiting… maybe I was too late.”
Your heart broke.
“I thought maybe you were starting to think he had a point,” his voice became quieter, “and that scared the hell out of me. Hence why I am pouring my heart out to you in the middle of a street on an earth that isn’t even ours!”
He laughed once, “I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else. You are… everything to me. You have been for seven years.”
He looked helpless, “I just wanted you to have the proposal you deserved.”
You closed the distance between you, pressing your chest against his and tilting your head so that you were still looking at him.
He was still rambling thought, “and Ben keeps saying you'll say yes no matter what but that's not the point because I wanted—”
You pulled his face to yours and kissed him. His body went completely ridged in surprise before relaxing against you. His hands found your hips as he kissed you back.
When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, you moved your hands to his chest to steady yourself.
“You done yet?” You asked playfully.
He smiled, “I can keep going.”
You smiled through tears, “oh honey I know you can.”
You both laughed.
Your own voice shook now, “I thought maybe you didn't want to marry me anymore.”
His eyes widened, “what?”
“It's been seven years,” you laughed softly, “we’ve had a lot going on, I know. But I thought maybe through all of that you'd changed your mind.”
He looked absolutely devastated, “no.” He cupped your face immediately, “not for one second, have I ever thought anything like that.”
“You’re an idiot Johnny Storm,” you both laughed.
He rested his forehead against yours again, sniffling as the tears fell, “I can’t believe this is what it took to completely ruin the surprise.”
You laughed so hard you had to hide your face against his chest.
He wrapped both arms around you, “but I still have the ring and I'm still going to ask.
“Well I would hope so,” you said, against him.
He smiled, “I guess I’ll stop waiting for the universe to cooperate this time.”
“I think that's the better plan,” you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him even tighter.
The next morning, everyone gathered beside the ship that would return you home to your own earth.
Franklin held Sue's hand while Reed finished saying goodbye to Bruce. You hugged Yelena as you had grown fond of her company the past few weeks.
Ben nudged Johnny with one enormous elbow, “so.”
Johnny looked over.
“Let me guess here… you told her?” Ben asked.
Johnny smiled, “I did.”
“And?” Ben wondered.
Johnny glanced toward you where you were laughing with Yelena before looking at Ben, “I guess this whole crazy trip was worth it.”
Ben smirked, “can’t believe it took her getting hit on by a superhero in another dimension for you to finally convince yourself to ask the freaking question.”
“He’s hardly a superhero,” Johnny said seriously, “he can’t fly without his toy.”
Ben barked out a laugh, “you finally get your head outta your ass?”
Johnny groaned, but smiled, “yes.”
Johnny watched you walk toward him, extending his hand for you to take as you got closer to him.
For months he'd been chasing the perfect proposal.
But somewhere between collapsing universes and impossible odds, he'd finally realized something Ben had been trying to tell him all along.
The perfect moment wasn't a location.
It was simply the moment he decided to stop waiting.
As your hand slipped naturally into his, he intertwined your fingers with his.
⋆˚꩜｡pairing: eddie x bff!fem!reader
⋆˚꩜｡summary: After three months of listening to your best friend brag about the size of his dick, you finally decide to call his bluff.
⋆˚꩜｡tags/tw: explicit sexual content 18+ minors do not interact | no y/n, afab!fem!reader, best friends to lovers, alcohol use, light praise kink, unprotected p in v, eddie is a cocky mf, i think that’s all?
⋆˚꩜｡word count: 4.8k+
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: loosely inspired by this post right here, that has been sitting for literal years in my likes lol hope this is readable x // still on my writing break! just wanted to drop this<3
Eddie Munson was the bane of your fucking existence.
He was too loud, always yelling or laughing directly into your ear until it rang for the rest of the night. He was kind of disgusting too, forever burping in your face or wearing the same dirty socks because he’d forgotten to do the laundry again. He was annoying in every sense of the word. In fact, if you looked up annoyance in the dictionary, you’d literally find a picture of him grinning proudly at the camera.
Unfortunately, you’d grown more than used to all of it, considering he’d also been your best friend for years.
Although, lately, you’d been seriously considering giving him a different title instead. Best asshole. Best cocky motherfucker. Best creep.
Those last two had a nice ring to them, actually.
Especially considering that, ever since he’d lost his virginity three months ago, he’d developed an insufferable habit of flashing you that smug, sideways grin while going on and on about how big his dick supposedly was.
“I’m serious, sweetheart.” He leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself as his gaze dragged lazily over you before settling on your face again. “There’s no way someone like you could fit it.”
Ignoring the second glance he snuck down your cleavage as you leaned over the pool table, you lined up your shot with steady hands and fixed your eyes on the cue ball.
“What do you want me to say, Eddie?”
You pressed the tip of your tongue against the inside of your cheek as the cue brushed over your knuckles while you drew it back, just enough to steady the swing.
“Congratulations?”
The stick slid forwards in one smooth, measured movement, sending the cue ball snapping across the felt.
“Or condolences for never, ever finding someone willing to hop on your monstrous dick?”
One by one, the balls found their places. The striped ball disappeared into the pocket with a muted click, clean and final.
You didn’t rush to celebrate. Instead, you studied the table for a second longer, taking in the angle you’d left yourself before stepping into position for your next shot. It looked good when you leaned over the felt, cue gliding through your fingers as you lined it up.
Except it wasn’t, and the object ball caught the jaw of the pocket with a dull clack before spinning back onto the table.
“Aw, fuck,” you muttered under your breath, straightening as you stepped aside.
Eddie let out a low whistle as he took your place, that stupid, cocky grin still plastered across his face. Leaning over the table, he tapped the cue against the rail once before lining up his own shot. A sharp crack echoed through the empty bar as the cue ball connected, sending one of the solids banking neatly into the corner pocket.
“Listen, dude, I’m just saying.” Eddie shrugged as he pushed himself upright and reached for his beer.
Circling the table with your cue balanced loosely in one hand, you searched the table for what he’d left behind.
“Saying what, exactly?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.
“That it’s a genuine problem,” he replied over the rim of his beer bottle. “Remember that girl I fucked in the back of the van last week?”
Before you could even tell him to stop, he was already launching into the story.
Apparently, she’d spent half the time insisting he was too big while stubbornly trying to take all of him anyway.
You answered by leaning over the pool table once more, deliberately focusing on your shot instead of the absolute bullshit coming out of his mouth. The cue slid smoothly through your fingers before the cue ball rolled forward with a satisfying crack.
“Dude.” You scrunched your nose in disgust as you straightened. “I do not need to know all the details.”
Eddie flashed that infuriating grin again, dragging the tip of his tongue lazily across his lower lip.
“You don’t have to hear the details,” he said with a shrug. “You could always skip straight to the practical demonstration.”
And there it was.
It wasn’t the first time Eddie had held your gaze a little longer than necessary while spewing some ridiculous bullshit about taking him for a test drive. It came with years of friendship – careless, empty words tossed around for no other reason than to get a rise out of you.
But, see, Eddie had somehow forgotten who he was talking to – you. The physical incarnation of intrusive thoughts, and the only person who could match Eddie’s freak – or his stupidity.
The rest of your friend group had perfected the art of staying out of it; they’d learned years ago that the quickest way to become collateral damage was to accidentally encourage either of you.
And once one of you committed to the bit, the other treated it like a declaration of war.
Big mistake on Eddie’s part for forgetting that.
“Alright,” you said with a dramatic sigh as you pushed yourself away from the pool table. “Strip.”
Eddie’s hand stalled halfway to his mouth, the beer bottle hovering just below his lips. The cocky grin faltered for only a second before he recovered with a chuckle.
“C’mon, sweetheart.”
“I’m serious.” You raised an eyebrow. “You closed the place an hour ago. It’s just the two of us here.”
Crossing the room, you slid your cue back onto its rack before grabbing your beer from the table behind him. You tipped back the last mouthful and set the empty bottle down with a hollow thunk before turning back to him.
“So…” You folded your arms across your chest. “Strip.”
“I’m not just gonna–”
“Why not?” You tilted your head, all mock sympathy. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself?”
Eddie scoffed, although it lacked some of its earlier confidence. “Of course not–”
“Then fucking strip and get on the pool table.”
Eddie blinked, caught off guard for the briefest moment, before that crooked grin slowly crept back onto his face. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, the grin returning despite the lingering pink in his cheeks.
“Jesus H. Christ. You’re actually serious.”
“I’m dead serious, Eddie.” You kept staring at him, thoroughly unimpressed by the fact he still hadn’t moved. “Do I have to come over there and do it myself?” You’d barely finished the sentence before uncrossing your arms and taking a few deliberate steps towards him. “Because I will.”
“What–”
“You know, I don’t believe a word that’s come out of your mouth for the past three months.” You stopped in front of him, curling your fingers into the open front of his flannel just enough to tug him a fraction closer. Holding his gaze without blinking, you added, “So here’s your chance, big boy. Prove me wrong.”
Eddie searched your face for the punchline, but there wasn’t one.
The flirting had become second nature a long, long time ago, neither of you really able to pinpoint exactly when. Somewhere along the way, the lingering touches, the forced proximity, and the teasing words had all become part of the game the two of you played more often than not.
A game that had never gotten this far before.
And somehow, Eddie didn’t seem to mind.
A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind his back and set his beer on the edge of the table, and then his hands settled on your hips instead.
“Look, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled, tightening his grip on your hips. “How about you take me out to dinner first, hm?”
“You already made me buy you a shot during your shift.” You shot him an unimpressed look before tightening your fingers around his flannel. With a firm tug, you slipped it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor between you. “You’re stalling, and I’m getting impatient.”
A crooked grin spread across Eddie’s lips as he flickered his gaze up and down your face. “As you wish, sweetheart.”
His gaze lingered on yours for another beat as the tip of his tongue swept lazily across his lower lip. Giving your hips one final squeeze, he finally let go and took a few unhurried steps backwards. He winked, and then reached for the button of his jeans.
“This better be worth my time, Munson.”
Taking a few steps back yourself, you leaned against the edge of the pool table before hoisting yourself up to sit on it.
Ignoring the raised eyebrow Eddie shot your way, you hooked your fingers beneath the hem of your shirt and peeled it over your head in one smooth motion before tossing it somewhere in his general direction.
Eddie’s ringed hands stalled for the briefest moments as his eyes wandered over your frame – or, more specifically, the lacy bra hugging your chest just a little too well for his own peace of mind.
This felt vastly different from seeing you in a bikini.
Maybe it was because there was nothing casual about it. Nothing accidental about you taking your shirt off for him, on purpose.
Or maybe it was the faint outline of your nipples beneath the lace.
Whatever the reason, it was definitely not why his fingers hesitated for that split second before he forced himself to continue undoing his jeans.
Eddie’s entire shift had been so fucking loud that, by the end of it, his head had been pounding behind his temples.
Now though? The quiet was somehow worse. The low hum of the bar fridges beneath the counter and the steady ticking of the clock somewhere behind him suddenly sounded deafening. There was no music or drunken chatter to drown out the frantic pounding of his heartbeat – or the fact that you didn’t seem to have any intention of backing down.
Which, naturally, meant Eddie wasn’t about to back down either.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat and praying you hadn’t noticed, he forced that cocky grin back into place before kicking off his shoes and shoving his jeans down the rest of the way.
“Gonna take off that skirt of yours,” he scoffed as he hooked a thumb beneath the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, “or do you want me to do it?”
“Hm.” You tilted your head, pretending to consider the offer as the tip of your tongue swept lazily across your lower lip. “Promise not to cum the second you see my panties?”
Eddie rolled his eyes, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth never quite disappeared. “Real funny, sweetheart.”
He closed the distance between you with a couple of slow, deliberate steps. Curling his hands around your hips once more, Eddie lifted you off the edge of the pool table in one smooth motion, earning a startled shriek from you. He pulled you flush against his bare chest, looking at you through his lashes before a crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
His tongue swept lazily across his lower lip as he let his hands drift from your hips to the waistband of your skirt. Tilting his head forwards, he brushed the tip of his nose against yours while his fingers found the button.
The soft click of it coming undone echoed through the otherwise silent bar, and then came the quiet rasp of the zipper down. The sound lingered in the air for a moment before your skirt pooled around your ankles with a muted thud.
“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked quietly, his fingertips lingering against the bare skin of your waist.
His grin lingered as his hands drifted back down to your hips. Warm, calloused fingers settled against your skin before tightening just enough to lift you onto the edge of the pool table once more.
“You gonna keep stalling, or are you gonna show that supposedly big dick of yours?” you murmured, instinctively curling your legs around his waist as a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
Eddie scrunched his nose in mock offence, looking almost genuinely offended by your choice of words. “Don’t objectify me.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you’ve been doing for the last three months?” You shot him a flat look.
He opened his mouth like he’d already thought of the perfect comeback, only to stop himself halfway through. A dry, disbelieving laugh escaped him instead as he shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“…Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”
For a second, you couldn’t remember what either of you had been saying as your gaze drifted across his face. It lingered on his parted lips for the briefest moment before finding his eyes again.
Eddie had always been Eddie – loud, obnoxious, and completely insufferable. The kind of asshole who’d burp in your face just because he knew it’d piss you off, steal fries off your plate after insisting he wasn’t hungry, and somehow turn every conversation into an opportunity to talk about himself.
Somehow, standing this close to him now, with your legs curled around his waist, he also looked unfairly handsome.
You hated that realisation.
More than that, you hated the fact that your eyes kept drifting back to his mouth – and that it hadn’t gone unnoticed by them.
You could see it in the way the corner of his mouth twitched into that stupid, cocky grin, and the way he stood there looking entirely too pleased with himself, as though he’d already decided he’d won.
There was no way in Hell you were about to let Eddie win this round.
So, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forwards and pressed your lips against his.
Eddie froze for the briefest moment, clearly caught off guard by the sudden kiss. His eyes widened just slightly before they fluttered shut again, a quiet, almost disbelieving hum escaping him like he hadn’t expected you be the one to close the distance first.
Then, as if remembering exactly who he was kissing, that familiar confidence returned. His grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly as he tilted his head, meeting you halfway and deepening the kiss with an ease that made your stomach twist.
His lips were every bit as soft as they’d looked, and it drove you just a little bit insane how unfairly good the asshole was at kissing. The steady pressure of his mouth against yours sent warmth blooming through your chest, only intensifying when he lingered for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before finally drawing back enough for the two of you to breathe.
“I thought I’d told you to get on the pool table,” you murmured, still slightly out of breath.
Looking up at him through your lashes, you swept your tongue across your lips, unconsciously catching the lingering taste of the kiss as you slowly unfurled your legs from around his waist.
Eddie, however, didn’t seem all that eager to let go. One hand lingered on your hip while the other drifted to the strap of your bra. He gave it a curious tug before letting it snap gently back against your skin, a smug grin spreading across his face.
“Getting desperate already?”
“Just wanna get this nightmare over with,” you replied with a dramatic roll of your eyes, giving his chest of a half-hearted shove.
“Sure, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckled as he finally let go of your hip. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Turning just enough for the small of his back to meet the edge of the pool table, he hoisted himself onto it before shuffling towards the middle of the green felt. Once has was comfortably settled, he folded his arms behind his head and looked over at you with some infuriating grin.
“Gonna make me sit here in anticipation just so I can be impossibly disappointed?” you scoffed, pushing yourself away from the edge of the table anyway.
“Wanna do the honours?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he nodded towards his boxers.
Resting one knee on the felt before the other, you shuffled closer until you found yourself sitting between his parted legs. The green felt rubbed roughly against his back, but Eddie didn’t seem to care too much about it when your soft hands trail up his thighs.
Your gaze was fixed on Eddie, studying and memorising every single twitch of his face as you skimmed your fingers against the cotton material of his boxers before pulling back again.
You reached behind and unclipped your bra, slowly pulling the straps down your arms until there was nothing to keep Eddie’s eyes from drinking you in. Just for the Hell of it, you threw the lacy material in his face with a smug grin spread across your lips.
The soft glow of the bar casted soft shadows across your exposed chest, highlighting every dip and curve. His dark brown eyes are completely on your breasts, commuting each detail to memory – perfect, with a beautiful roundness to them, and hardened nipples that nearly drove him insane. Eddie’s palms itched to touch, to feel their weight in his ringed hands, and it took all of his self-control not to reach for you, to pin you down and cave in, to Hell with this stupid game between you.
But he waited, breath held, for you to make the next move as he did his best to keep that confident, stupid smirk on his face.
Eddie’s eyes pulled away from your breasts to the red lacy bra that had fallen onto his chest. “You know I’m keeping this, right?”
“You get souvenirs and I get disappointment?” you muttered, leaning forwards. “Doesn’t sound fair to me.”
“Only disappointment that you won’t make it fit, sweetheart.”
Anticipation coursed through your veins as your fingers grazed his hips before curling around the waistband of his boxers. Eddie lifted his hip silently, letting you slide his boxers down his thighs until he kicked it somewhere to the floor behind you.
The cool air fanned his bare skin, raising goosebumps in its wake – or maybe that was just the weight of your parted lips and gaze fixed on his cock.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The bastard hadn’t been lying.
There was absolutely no fucking reason for someone’s dick – especially Eddie’s, of all fucking people – to be this big.
He was long, a little thicker than your wrist, and the tip of his cock, swollen and desperate, was a beautiful shade of pink that matched his lips almost perfectly. And his balls, holy– They were absolutely perfect. Big, and round, and slightly droopy, beautifully adorned with a bush of tight, dark curls.
The lack of reaction – which, frankly was a reaction in and on itself – merely made Eddie’s smug grin widen as you kept staring dumbly at his cock.
“So, what do you say, sweetheart?” He chuckled lowly, reaching for one of your thighs. He trailed a finger along the seam of your inner thigh, delighting in the way you shuddered. “Is it gonna fit? Or is it too big for you?”
“I–”
“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” he reassured mockingly.
The tension between you stretched taut and electric as he guided your hand to his aching length. Eddie buckled into your palm, a low groan escaping his lips at the touch of your hand – so much softer, warmer, smaller than his.
“Shut up,” was all you could muster, although it sounded low and unconvincing.
You gave him a few curious flicks of the wrist before letting go of him again. The absence of your touch was infuriating, but the feeling quickly melted away as he watched, transfixed, as you shuffled to straddle him.
“Make me, sweetheart.”
You hovered right above his cock, and impatiently pulled your panties to the side while you lined him up with your free hand. Keeping your gaze fixed on Eddie’s, you swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and sinking down on his cock in one quick move.
A strangled gasp tore from your throat – or was it Eddie’s? – as you enveloped him in your slick heat. His hands immediately reached for your hips, his head mercilessly falling against the hard pool table.
“Jesus–” His breath hitched.
You let out a broken moan as you gave yourself good few seconds to get used to the forced stretch – he’s too long and too fucking thick, hitting you in all the right places while also making you feel completely impaled.
Biting your lip to keep the broken moans from escaping, you slowly began moving your hips in languid rolls. Each drag of your slick walls along his aching cock sent shockwaves rippling through you. You’re drowning in the feeling, lost to everything but the addictive pressure of his swollen tip hitting your cervix each time you sank back down.
“I– Fuck,” you whimpered, reaching for his shoulders to steady yourself.
“Son of a–” he gritted out, voice wrecked with need. He let out a strained chuckle while digging his fingers into your hips. “If you could only see yourself, sweetheart.”
Eddie’s gaze locked with yours, pupils blown wide and dark with desire.
“I-I can take it,” you whimpered, biting your lip when he rocked up into you, meeting your rhythm stroke for stroke. “S-see?”
“You for sure showed me, sweetheart.” He shot you that cocky smile you hated, moving your hips back and forth to help you. “I’m so upset I was wrong.”
“You’re so fucking i-insufferable,” you gritted out, voice wrecked with need.
The pool table beneath you creaked as Eddie’s hips pistoned frantically while he kept guiding you. He thrusted up into your slick pussy, meeting each roll of your hips with growing urgency. The wet, sticky sounds of his cock filling you filled the silent bar, obscene and thrilling.
“That’s it, baby,” he praised hoarsely. “You were made to ride my big, fucking cock, hm?”
The way he filled you to the brim made you feel hyper sensitive, and it’s too much and it fucking hurt, but holy shit did he feel incredibly good.
Eddie watched you through half-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of your cock-drunk expression. Your breasts bounce with each impact of your bodies, hardened nipples just begging for attention. Leaning up, Eddie captured one in his mouth, suckling greedily while he kept thrusting up in the same pace. He growled into your cleavage, biting down.
“J-Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.” He breathed as his eyes trailed down to where you were connected, watching in fascination at how you were practically drenching his cock. “You take me so fucking well. Greedy pussy gripping, hm?”
With a broken whimper, you pushed Eddie back down onto the felt table, and sped up your movements. The tiny curls around the base of his cock brushed against your swollen clit with every roll of your hips, pulling broken moan after broken moan. He was balls deep inside of you, hitting that special spot, determined to melt your brain until you couldn’t even form thoughts anymore.
Eddie’s cheeks were impossibly flushed as he stared up at you with half-lidded eyes as his tongue slipped out from between his lips. You leaned forwards, digging your nails into his shoulders as you smashed your lips against his for a messy kiss of spit and clanking teeth.
“I’m c-close, Eds,” you panted against his neck, teeth grazing his sensitive skin. “S-so fucking close.”
“Already, sweetheart?” Eddie scoffed, punctuating the question with sharp thrusts. “Fucking do it then, soak my cock.”
He ground against your sensitive spots, determined to push you over the precipice as his fingers found your swollen clit, stroking it with firm, purposeful circles. His own lips dropped open, a whiny groan slipping past his lips when you whined, loud and needy – he couldn’t help it, not when you looked like this.
Arching your back and crying out his name, you kept taking every deliciously painful thrust he gave you and, in return, you made him squirm under you with every clench of your pussy. He matched the tight circles he drew with his thumb to the quick snap of your hips, feeling the friction burning in your veins until your orgasm finally snapped.
“E-Eddie! Fuckfuckfuck.” You came hard with a loud cry of his name, soaking his cock as your thighs jerked. Distantly, you could feel a slick gush trail down to Eddie’s hips, sticky and addictive.
Eddie watched your body tremble before tensing, hips frozen against his as you threw your head back with a broken cry. His pubes tickle the inside of your thighs just right,
Frantically, he thrusted up, again and again, your body bouncing with every move. His grip tightened around your thighs, nails leaving crescent impressions in your soft skin.
“W-where do you want me, sweetheart?”
“I-inside, Eds,” you pleaded, high and desperate. “P-please, I need it. Fill me up.”
“Like you’re not filled enough already,” he scoffed against your lips. “Fucking take it then.”
Pleasure crested sharp and urgent, with one more thrust, two– then bliss exploded through him, stealing his breath and scattering coherent thought. You let him bite your lip while he throbbed and spilled into you, filling you to the brim until he’s practically covered in his own seed.
You slumped forwards, burying your face in the crook of his neck as it took you a good minute or two to come back down to earth. Eddie gave your hip a lazy squeeze, a contented sigh escaping him while his other hand drifted slowly up and down your bare back. His calloused fingertips traced absent-minded circles against your skin as he tried to steady his breathing.
Eventually, you pushed yourself up just enough to look at him. Your eyes met his, still slightly glassy, and you swallowed hard before a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.
“So…” you started softly, only for the rest of the sentence to die somewhere between your brain and your mouth.
“So,” Eddie echoed with a tired chuckle, his thumb lazily brushing against your hip. The silence that followed wasn’t nearly as awkward as you’d expected; if anything, it felt strangely comfortable. “That was definitely… worth the wait.”
Eddie’s grin wasn’t nearly as cocky anymore; it had softened into something you’d never seen directed at you before. Or maybe it always had been, and maybe you’d just never noticed it before.
“You…” You swallowed, suddenly finding it much harder to get the words out than you’d expected. “You make it sound like this wasn’t just about proving a point.”
Eddie’s gaze wandered across your face before settling on your eyes again, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest of smiles. “Because it’s wasn’t. Not really.”
The words were spoken so matter-of-factly that they almost caught you off guard.
Truth be told, it wasn’t as though the thought had never crossed your mind – because it had. More than once, actually, if you were being completely honest with yourself.
Somewhere between lazy movie nights, sharing his bed after one too many drinks, lingering hugs that lasted a second too long, and countless inside jokes that blurred the line between friendship and flirting, you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
Actually crossing that line, though… you’d never imagined it would happen because neither of you knew when to shut up.
Eddie let out a quiet breath through his nose, his thumb brushing another slow circle against your hip. “Didn’t think you’d ever look at me like that,” he admitted.
You looked at him for a long moment before a quiet laugh escaped you.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“What did I do now?” His eyebrows pulled together in mock confusion.
“Instead of telling me about…” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “…whatever this is, you spent the last three months talking about how dick was in the hopes I’d just cave.”
Eddie huffed out a laugh, averting his eyes away from you. “Sounds pretty stupid when you say it out loud.”
“Because it is stupid,” you chuckled. “And so are you.”
A tired groan slipped past his lips as he pushed himself up, not caring if the remnants of your activities stained the green felt of the pool table beneath him. The hand on your back was warm as he trailed it up to cradle your cheek.
“So…” he trailed off, his voice quieter than before. “Do you wanna–”
“Give this a shot?” you finished for him, your eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.
Your gaze drifted slowly across his face, as though you were trying to commit every freckle and crooked smile to memory. By the time your eyes had found his again, your expression had softened.
“Yeah.” You held his gaze for a long moment before your smile grew a fraction wider. “I think I’d be pretty stupid not to.”
