fav bands: depeche mode, metallica, queen, pink floyd, 883, tv girl, the smiths, rammstein, duran duran, type o negative, iron maiden.
fav books/mangas: 1984, the hobbit, the truth about the harry quebert affair, percy jackson saga, the magnus chase saga, acotar trilogy, innocent rouge(shinichi sakamoto), dr.stone.
marvel enthusiastic. fav characters are moon knight♡, loki♡, blade, dr.strange, scarlet witch, iron man, ms. marvel, captain marvel.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
(before requesting, read my rules, thank you! you can request at the top of my profile.)
I will not write:
Age play
Lactation/breastfeeding kink
Incest
CnC
Kinks involving urine
Raping
Somnophilia
Kinks involving torture
Eating disorders
⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.
What is not mentioned here will be included and written without any problems!
We always talk about Eddie’s bullet belt, but we never talk about where it came from. We always talk about Eddie’s bullet belt and throw around headcanons that Steve got it for him, or Robin, since he didn’t go inside War Zone and couldn’t have got it for himself. We always talk about Eddie’s bullet belt, but we never talk about the fact that it was Erica who got it for him. Erica, who had known Eddie all of five days. Erica, who had only really spent three of those five actually interacting with Eddie. Erica, who, despite everything— Vecna curse, upside down nonsense, false murder charges, the general ‘Freak’ rep —not only really comes to like Eddie and wants to help clear his name, but also comes to know him well enough to take one look at a bullet belt while shopping for the quote-unquote necessities to say, “Yeah, no, that long-haired little metal dude is gonna eat this shit up. Gotta get it. Steve’s wallet can cry later,” and be absolutely right when she did. They might be going to war, but they can at least accessorize… Erica Sinclair, you are a genius, and we bow to you.
Luca Changretta × fem! reader.
A/N: a quick note to remind you all that I DO NOT ROMANTICIZE ANY OF THIS! This is just a fanfic, everything is fictional, and I do not support anything in this! This story revolves around the Peaky Blinders' character. That's it. If you wanna scroll, go ahead.
The last rays of sunshine, less charged than the morning ones, hit the beautiful villa overlooking the Gulf of Naples. In that villa, precisely in the most beautiful hall that Don Antonio owned, there were strong notes of tobacco, mixed with the sweat and laughter of the guests. Jazz music was played by a small band, with a fast pace to speed up the dancing. Naples was not an easy city, much less being the granddaughter of a crime boss. Even more so, trying to detach oneself from that environment, to live a life marked by the tranquility... that was difficult to achieve at that moment.
Y/N sat with one leg huddled at the table closest to her uncle, surrounded by her parents. It wasn't hot yet, but every now and then she would move her fan to cool off, or perhaps to chase away the feeling that something was going to happen at any moment.
As if she had predicted it, her uncle approached her, beaming whenever he saw his niece. The man was average in height, with black hair that was quite bushy. Even with this physicality, he managed to wear the best suits in Naples, exceeding everyone's expectations: he never looked unkempt.
“Nipote mia! Come here, bella de' zio.” His large hands rested affectionately on her cheeks, pinching her. Y/N turned up her nose slightly and smiled. He may have been the most feared man in Naples, but he was always her uncle, and he never let anything go. And he had never treated her with contempt.
“Now, I want to introduce you to a really important guest. I'll steal her from you for a second,” so he turned to the girl's parents, who couldn't help but smile with a hint of fear on their lips. Y/N and his uncle crossed, under their arms, the packed hall. Y/N felt a little uncomfortable: the current environment wasn't made for her, but she had to show up those few times to please her uncle.
Many gave her drawn smiles, a sign of respect; others, fleeting greetings.
“Who should you introduce me to, uncle?” she asked, in a low voice.
“He came from America the other day, a man of respect. It's all particular, chist cca…”
“The American?”
“Eh. He has some business to do in Naples, and a deal that he and I have to close,” he laughed, “but don't worry, it's our business! Come, come, that's it!”
On a more secluded side of the room was a table. They sat, like black knights, four well-dressed men, their hats resting on the beautiful tablecloth. They smoked and talked among themselves while sipping liquor in crystal glasses.
“Luca, sorry if I'm coming here another time. I hope you enjoy lunch”.
The man in question, Luca, smiled politely. “All good, Don Antonio”.
“Good, good… Let me introduce you to my niece, the one I was telling you about before. My jewel! Come on, Y/N, he won't eat ya!”
The girl was struck by the man's beauty and elegance. Slowly, he rose from his chair and put his hand to his heart, studying it with satisfaction. Luca was a man in his forties, of ancient beauty. The kind of man you get attracted to as soon as you come across him. He wore the most refined tailored suit she had ever seen, his shoes well-polished, and her black hair pulled back. “Ma che bedda picciotta…” Luca said, without taking his eyes off her. A bejeweled hand took Y/N's, leaving her a hand kiss, without ever breaking eye contact.
She felt overwhelmed: a mysterious energy embraced the man. Dangerous energy, which left curiosity. “A real pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm Luca Changretta”.
“Y/N…" Luca tilted his head to one side. “What an elegant name”. His face was crossed by a grin.
“And my greatest joy. She studies, writes, draws… she's about to graduate too! Bella de’ zio!” He left her a kiss on her cheek, which Y/N couldn't help but smile at in embarrassment. Her gaze fell on the marble floor. “My uncle flatters me too much. He exaggerates”
“But what an exaggeration and exaggeration! The girl is just shy!”
“Your uncle is right, miss. With a girl like that in the family…” Luca interfered, letting his eyes slide across Y/N's face.
“Let's leave Mr. Changretta to his bourbon.”
Before the niece-uncle couple left, Luca took a confident step forward. “If you allow me…I would like to ask permission to treat myself to a dance. With her” His eyes scanned the old man.
Upon hearing those words, young Y/N vented. She tried to figure out if the man was serious, then remembered the context she was in. No jokes. Don Antonio did not have time to react because Luca took the woman's waist with a delicacy that did not seem to belong to him. He guided her to the center of the hall, letting the music guide them in their dance. The man's firm grip made her heart race. It wasn't a love story and never would have been. Luca was not a tragic hero in her novels. Then she wondered if that was the beginning of something that would lead to an escapade.
Y/N shook his tattooed hand, and together they twirled to the sound of the music.
“I had never seen Vesuvius so closely”, Luca interrupted the young woman's thoughts, their hands still firm, their bodies almost touching each other. She could smell the pungent smell of his colony, “and the sea… the sea reminds me of home. My beloved Sicily. However, if I must say…none of this surpasses the beauty in my hands”.
His compliments made the girl blush immediately; she tried to hide her face so as not to show it to her. He noticed him and gave her a mocking smile. “You flatter me.”
“I don't flatter those I don't have to.”
“Then you do it out of respect.”
Luca remained silent, leaving the question hanging in the air. He scanned her face: impassive, he was absentmindedly looking around. Then he brought his eyes back to the woman's, and continued: “Intuitive, I like it. I wouldn't have had any interest if I didn't want to.”
“Cut it short”, she pressed.
Luca smiled mockingly. She felt his hand slide lightly down her entire back, as if he was not paying attention to the glances of others, to how her uncle would, without any problem, stick a bullet between his limbs. Luca brought his lips closer to Y/N's ear, tickling her. The close range made her shiver. “You are very beautiful. And you have class. Anyone who knows how to appreciate it notices it immediately, picciotta. Does it make you sad to dance with me?”
Y/N looked him straight in the eye, unable to hold back a smile. Was she smiling because that man's dangerousness attracted her or because he had been the first to show her interest after all these years?
“At all”.
“Good. It would be a shame if ypu refused a walk along the pier tomorrow. Matteo and Federico, my men, will also be present. Don't blame him for it. They are required to protect me, but they will remain at a safe distance”.
Y/N turned her head towards her uncle, who was still watching them from the nicest table set, puffing on his cigar. Fear ran through her, unwittingly squeezing her fingers around Luca's arm. He understood the instant. The eyes moved equally towards the heavy man.
“Don't think uselessly. Ci parlo iu cu Don Antonio.” She sensed a veiled threat in the last sentence. He doesn't know what would have happened if he had refused. She accepted, leaving Luca with the satisfaction of smiling genuinely.
The two finished their dance shortly after. The Sicilian escorted the girl back to her uncle with a sure step. It was at that very moment that he took his leave, returning to his hitmen. Y/N wondered if she should start digging her own grave. In that world, you don't accept rejections: it can be worth your life. The consequences would, in any case, have been disastrous. She went through the room again and again, not knowing who she was looking for. She looked at her parents' table, now empty-who knows if they were on the terrace smoking-and she felt sorry.
Their little girl had been captured by the claws of a real predator, and the escape route would not be easy.
Gentleman. Will hold doors for you, push your chair back so you can sit, always complimenting you – even if sometimes they're silent compliments. His eyes speak loudly.
Hand kisses. That's it.
Melts everytime you give him a massage after a long, tiring day at the office. Melts more if he comes home – a succulent plate of homemade food waiting for him.
His love language would be a mix of words of affirmations and acts of service.
He doesn't look like it, but I see him being both a cat and dog fan. He wouldn't mind getting a Labrador or a black cat one day, but he also responsible and he knows it takes responsibility and he also knows he's too tired to take care of them. Maybe one day.
In the anime, it is mentioned Hiromi also struggles financially. He's not poor, of course, but don't expect him to have some nice apartment. That's, at least, what I think.
If he doesn't have time for you, he'll re-charge his batteries and makes sure to be forgiven.
Being with Higuruma takes a lot of patience. Arguments included. You want him to think – you can't deny it – about you and less about his work. There's times you and him don't really see each other, even after moving in his apartment. He brushes it off like you're in a trial. The arguments ends with communication after a while.
Big big big lover of F. Kafka and Gabriel García Marquez.
His favourite movie is A time to kill.
Not ready – yet – for a family. He needs stability; with his current job situation, it's a no. Won't deny though he wants it with you and you only.
He's got a great sense of humor. Making jokes here and there, making you laugh even when he's serious – there's always a sarcastic tone in his comments. I think that's a quality of lawyers.
Higuruma won't admit it loudly, but having his head pressed on your legs, your thighs...it's heaven to him.
Speaking of thighs...he can't resist squeezing them with passion while eating you out, looking up with his tired eyes after a bad day. He just wants you, don't crawl away!
Soft dom energy. I can see him being submissive when he's too tired, letting you do all the work.
Loves, loooooves back scratches the next morning, at the mirror. Smirks a little at that.
King of aftercare. You want water, tea, coffee? Snacks? A hot bath or shower? Higuruma is already up and providing you anything you desire.
During sex, Higuruma can't resist to suck on your nipples, softly. Letting his warm tongue to lick on them, pinching the other with calloused fingers, squeezing the tit.
Also, his hands might find their place either on your waist or, again, your tits. You're welcome. :)
⤿ HIROMI HIGURUMA works like a dog, and that's part of why you love him. So, when he brings work home with him, you never complain, you just exist with it.
!! fluff. domestic fluff. wife!reader. established relationship. i been on the higuruma train since day one i don't play about my man. higuruma masterlist to come soon. ENJOY.
The apartment was quiet in that particular way that only existed after midnight, when the city had finally exhausted itself and even the traffic outside your building had thinned to the occasional passing car that hissed against damp pavement. The clock on the microwave read 1:42 AM, glowing faintly in the dark kitchen, and from the bedroom doorway you could see the thin line of warm light spilling from the living room.
He had promised he would come to bed early, but you knew better.
Hiromi Higuruma sat at the dining table with his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, tie loosened but still hanging around his collar as though he hadn’t fully allowed himself to step out of the role he wore all day. Case files were spread in careful stacks around him, in what you could only describe as organized chaos. There were pages that were annotated in his precise handwriting, certain lines underlined twice, others circled with small notes in the margins.
He didn’t notice you at first.
You padded across the floor in slow, quiet steps, one of his sweaters slipping off your shoulder, the hem brushing against your thighs. He was so still that he almost looked carved from marble, his brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed thin, the bridge of his nose lit by the soft glow of the lamp while he read through a witness statement for what had to be the fourth time.
You stopped beside him and rested your chin lightly on the crown of his head, and he stiffened instantly.. then exhaled.
“…You should be asleep,” he murmured without looking up, though one of his hands shifted automatically to rest against your calf as if to confirm you were really there.
“I was,” you said softly. “You weren’t.”
He clicked his pen once, a quiet, absent motion. “I’ll finish soon.”
You leaned down a little further, reading over his shoulder. The words were heavy and unfair. Another case where the outcome felt like a compromise carved from something that should have been justice. You could see the tension in the way his jaw worked slightly when he reached a particular paragraph.
“You’ve already read that page three times,” you whispered.
“I need to read it a fourth.”
You huffed quietly at that and, without asking, moved around to stand in front of him. He glanced up at you then, brows lifting slightly in question.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
You didn’t answer. Instead, you gently nudged the files inward, creating just enough space, and settled yourself onto his lap facing him.
He froze completely. The pen stopped mid-air and his spine straightened. For a split second, he looked almost scandalized, as though you had just disrupted a courtroom proceeding rather than a dining table buried in paperwork.
“…I'm not a chair, sweetheart.” he mumbled evenly.
“You’re right,” you replied, already curling your arms loosely around his shoulders. “You're even better.”
A long sigh left him, quiet but defeated in the softest way. His hands splayed against the small of your back to steady you against him.
“You’re tired,” he muttered, voice lower now. “You’ll be uncomfortable.”
“I’ll survive.”
He studied your face for a moment, the sharpness in his expression easing as he took in the faint crease on your cheek from the pillow, the way your lashes drooped heavier than usual. You really had been asleep.
“…Five minutes,” he said finally. “Then I’m taking you back to bed.”
You hummed in vague agreement, already settling closer.
He adjusted you instinctively, one arm wrapping securely around your lower back while the other reached for his pen again. The files were slightly harder to see at this angle, but he compensated by pulling one stack closer and shifting his posture just enough to balance both you and the papers.
Your forehead rested against his shoulder.
For a few moments, the only sounds were the soft scratch of pen against paper and your slow breathing evening out against his collarbone.
He tried to focus, he truly did.
But your warmth was distracting. The steady weight of you in his lap, the way your fingers had lazily curled into the fabric of his shirt as if holding onto him even in sleep. Every time you shifted slightly, your knee brushed against his side, calming him in a way that made the harsh black-and-white lines of legal text feel distant.
“You’re going to regret this when your neck hurts in the morning,” he murmured, though there was no bite to it.
But... you didn’t answer, causing him to glance down. Your eyes were fully closed now, your breathing had deepened and was soft and slow against his skin.
“…Unbelievable,” he whispered, though it came out gentler than he intended.
He adjusted his grip more carefully this time, sliding one hand higher along your spine so you wouldn’t tip backward. His thumb pressed lightly between your shoulder blades in an absent, soothing motion. You reacted immediately, nestling closer, your face turning into the curve of his neck.
He looked back at the file, and reread the final page again. His pen scratching as he annotated a line that he missed before. His mind was still sharp, still methodical, but the edge of his frustration had dulled. It was difficult to spiral into quiet anger at the injustice of the system when you were asleep against him, trusting him so completely that you could drift off in the middle of uncomfortable wooden chairs and scattered paperwork.
At some point, his pen paused and he found himself staring at nothing, listening instead to the rhythm of your breathing.
The world was loud, and the courts were louder. There was always another case, another failure, another compromise dressed up as resolution. But here, in the dim light of the apartment, with you curled against him and rain beginning to tap faintly against the windows, the noise felt far away.
He finished the last note carefully, closed the folder, stacked the papers with deliberate precision so they wouldn’t slide when he stood. Only then did he look down at you fully.
A piece of hair had fallen across your face, and on an instinct, he brushed it back gently, careful not to wake you. You stirred slightly but didn’t open your eyes, your fingers tightening in his shirt for a brief second as if checking that he was still there.
“I’m here,” he said quietly, though you hadn’t asked.
He slid one arm beneath your thighs and the other behind your back, lifting you slowly from his lap. You shifted instinctively, arms tightening around his neck, face pressing against his shoulder.
He turned off the desk lamp with his elbow, plunging the living room into darkness except for the faint city glow filtering through the curtains.
The walk to the bedroom was slow and careful.
He set you down gently on the mattress, easing his arm out from beneath you. You frowned faintly in your sleep, immediately reaching for him.
“…Hiromi,” you mumbled.
He paused.
That was all he needed to hear to seal the deal. The files could wait until morning, the world could wait, at this point he would do anything to get to lay in bed and relax with you.
In one swift movement he slipped out of his tie and unbuttoned his sleeves before sliding into bed beside you. The moment he settled, you moved toward him automatically, pressing close, your head finding its place against his chest as if it had always belonged there.
His arm wrapped around your waist.
Your breathing steadied again.
He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, listening to the rain grow heavier outside, feeling the quiet weight of you anchored against him.
“…I’ll finish the rest tomorrow,” he murmured to himself.
His hand moved slowly along your back, once, twice, a grounding rhythm. And when sleep finally pulled him under, it was softer than it had been in weeks.
people need to stop making everything about hiromi's nose tbh. Like yes i agree that's attractive, yes the jokes were funny but its js so overused now. Hes an amazing character with alot more depth than just his physical feature, yall need to understand when to stop overusing something
summary: just pure fluff headcanons about Eddie during Valentine's day. <3
A/n : IM LATE IK- it's been so long, so take this headcanons as a warming up, since it's been a while I've picked up a pen or, well, written.
Eddie doesn't do, initially, Valentine's day. Its commercial, and he won't change his idea: it's a stupid holiday, a commercial gimmick, trick. Whatever you wanna call it.
But when someone comes knocking, softly, undisturbed at his life's door...Valentine's day becomes a little more important to him.
Don't get me wrong! I won't think Eddie would change 100% his perspective of this day, but he's making an attempt to celebrate it just for you. You like him for it a little more.
He's willing to adjust his hair nest into something more tidy, wear one of his uncle's tuxedos and take you out.
Not too fancy, but it's better: candlelight illuminate a picnic setting at Lover's Lake shore, and hand made sandwiches. Much better than those fancy shit restaurants people go.
It's simple, but effective: Eddie wanted that.
Probably Metallica as background or Nazareth from the stereo of his van, parked not too far from you guys, so the music can be heard. He's even willing to put some pop just for you, expect you can see his eye almost twitching already when the tune comes on and you can't help but laugh in front of him.
He almost forgets to hand you the flowers when he first sees you that night. Your favourites with a plushie tidied around the bouquet and lyrics of a song he's writing, dedicated to you and you only.
"I know I shouldn't give away those lyrics that easily, Jeff and Gareth would probably murder me if I would, but I did it right now, buuuuuuuuut...oh well! Screw it! You like...those? I mean, everything".
He nearly jumps in the cold water when you showed your gift to him. He's on the verge of fainting.
"Dude! I mean, babe! How the fuck did you get Steve's Vai autograph with a mini guitar?! Is that...no way! It's a doodle of his guitar! Oh, shit, shit, shit!"
Drama queen.
At the end of the night, you two take a picture together, bodies tangled with each other on the wet grass. Eddie feels his cheeks on fire, and he likes it.
Eddie Munson who-before asking you to be his Valentine-began to charge extra on his drug deals. He had to make sure he had enough money to treat you right!!
Eddie who ends up having to ask you two weeks before because he spent so much time stalling. He buys two bouquets of pink and red roses and a small teddy bear to ask you. He was so obviously shy and nervous about asking, acting like his own girlfriend would say no to him…like, visibly nervous. The most awkward smile on his face as he offered you the gifts-only melting away when you joked that the little black stuffed bear looked like him. “Yeah, real funny-is that a yes?”
He is so nervous getting ready for your date too. Bought a new wine red dress shirt, spent more time than he ever has in front of the mirror fluffing and adjusting his hair, having to smoke a bit to calm himself until it was time to pick you up.
Eddie who is giddy at the sight of you. Leaning in to kiss you all over your face and nearly crushing the small bundle of flowers he brought you-because of course he is obsessed and even more in love on Valentine’s Day.
Eddie who is holding onto your hand the entire car ride. Squeezing it, kissing your fingers and palm, sliding one of his rings onto your fingers even though it didn’t fit.
Eddie who takes you to a Valentine’s Day fair first. “What do ya’ wanna do first? Wanna play some games-oh! I can win us some prizes!” He is just ecstatic to do everything with you. He for some reason tries to impress you by trying to win that basketball shooting game and immediately accusing it of being rigged as he pulls you away. He does much better at the balloon and darts game-Ends up winning you guys matching bears which he makes kiss each other just to hear you laugh.
Eddie who insists on buying you a snack to hold you off until after the fair, going through all the options before settling on sharing cotton candy together.
Eddie who is very cliche and ends up making out with you on the ferris wheel. The tang of cigarettes still fresh on his breath along with the taste of shared cotton candy from both of you. His hands cradle your face, his cold rings only coming off of your face to put the bears face down in your lap to cover their eyes.
Eddie who takes you to a pretty diner after the carnival. He just flirts with you as you drink your milkshake, not giving a care to his melting Coke float. “You’re so pretty. You know, I was so nervous about tonight. I bought this whole new outfit so I can look my best for you-isn’t that crazy? You’re just..wow” it’s practically a word vomit of compliments and obsessive thoughts. He’s too busy admiring you to even eat, he picks and nibbles at his fries but he is really just focused on making you swoon. “..I rented some romantic movies for us..ya’know, in case you want to come over after this.” “Of course I wanna come over, Eds.” “Yeah? Yeah-cool..might just end up kissing you the entire time though.”
Eddie stays true to his word. He was all over you five minutes into the movie. Moaning against your mouth, already shrugging his leather jacket off before he continued to grope and kiss. “Y’taste so good—Fuck, you’re so amazing. Y’so perfect, c’mon-" He lifts you, his lips still smothering your face as he takes you down the hallway, promising to "take such good care of you all night."
just a thought i had, but Eddie would absolutely love the whole ‘seeing two things together and saying ‘us’’ but in a way that’s so goofy you know he’s right
like you’d see two ducks swimming together and say ‘it’s us’ but he’d see a cigarette butt and an empty beer can and say ‘it’s us’
Spider-man!Eddie Munson x gender neutral reader.
Summary: Eddie Munson's life changed the instant a radioactive spider bit him, leading him to become... Spider-man! What could possibly go wrong? Expect... you discovering his hero identity. How? Find out in this fic!
A/N: MY TWO. WORLDS. COLLIDING!!!! I had to write something as soon as I saw an edit on tik tok by phnxbuch. And I know I should've posted this a week ago buuuuttt...let's pretend I did, duh.
warnings: This is an AU. There is no Vecna, no Upside Down, just the Stranger Things characters in the MCU; use of Y/N, Dustin is so Ned coded lol.
diveder by @sister-lucifer.
Eddie Munson flew over the rooftops of New York with speed as he played Iron Maiden's ‘Somewhere in Time’ in his ears.
“God, what a day!” Yet it was a quiet day compared to the others. Giant-tentacled supervillains, a creepy-looking guy who claimed to be from another dimension, not to mention bullies who didn't seem to want to leave him alone at lunch.
Flying over Trump Tower, he noticed that snow began to fall on the city, enveloping it in a white blanket. He passed the city's most famous ice rink, in Rockefeller Center, narrowly grazing the tree. “Oopsie!”
He couldn't wait to get home, get comfortable, and take the long nap of his life. For the three hundredth time in a row.
The bite of the radioactive spider had turned his life upside down, and although he had initially been subject to an identity crisis, he later found it extremely metal.
Just like in the comics he read, his life had made him a superhero. Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, metalhead and frontman of the band Corroded Coffin, was Spider-Man! He grinned at the thought that half, if not all, of the city praised him. He had even received a line of underwear dedicated to him! Amazing, right?
He immediately recognized the street; that was where his apartment was located, in an area of the city far from the chaos. He liked to call it ‘his favourite dump’: small, but it was home.
Too tired of taking off his superhero suit, he climbed onto the ceiling of the room, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake his Uncle Wayne. Just like a spider.
“I wonder when he'll be back…EDDIE?!”
The boy jumped, falling with his head against the floor. “OH MY- Fuck! Ah, Y/N! What… What are you doing here?” Eddie rose from the ground, placing his arm on the wall, his expression wavering. He was dripping sweat from head to toe, if that was possible. He wondered why his Spider Senses had not warned him of Y/N's presence. Then he remembered that they hadn't done it for a simple reason: they weren't an enemy.
“We have the modeling project to finish by Friday, that is why I'm here!” Y/N's eyes darted from Eddie to his mask, like crazy. A thousand questions began to flow into their head. “Where did you come from?” he tested the waters.
“I…from the back.”
“There's no back, Eddie, you live in an apartment.”
A deafening silence ensued. I'm in deep shit, thought the young superhero, tingling hands. “Who else knows?”
“W-What?” he replied reluctantly, his voice too high-pitched even for him. It was the exact antithesis of calm.
Y/N circled around him, incredulous. “I don't believe it. I can't believe it! You…” They pointed a finger at him. “You are Spider-Man!”
“Shhh, Y/N, lower your voice”
“Then you were the one who saved me! That day, when that car was about to run me over.”
“The door! Wayne could hear us! Close the door”. Finally, Y/N's hands closed the door.
Eddie took his hands, putting a finger to his lips. “Yes, yes, it was me, but lower your voice! Wayne might hear us!”
“So, who else knows?” Eddie sighed, shaking his head. He muttered something inaudible until Y/N asked him to raise his voice.
“For Fuck's sake! Dustin.”
Y/N widened their eyes. An offended expression was painted on his face. Of betrayal. “You told it to Dustin and not me?”
“It was random on that occasion, too! The kid put together all the puzzle pieces.” Eddie took to stripping off his costume, the room a mess. He couldn't find his sweatpants; probably hidden under the pile of clothes in the corner of his bedroom. “Now only you two know! Hurray!”
“Are you kidding me?!” A chilling fury descended on Y/N: while Eddie was still searching for his pants, pillows were thrown in his direction. He dodged them all thanks to his Spider Senses.
Without wasting time, a spiderweb caught his change of clothes. Only about halfway through the operation did he realize that his friend was looking at him with wide eyes, his chest lowering and rising energetically.
Are they fucking blushing? That was all Eddie could think about. “Excuse me? Give me some privacy, come on!”
Y/N broke away from their trance state, muttering something visible in embarrassment, giving him their back. This was all absurd. Eddie had never found himself in such an unpleasant situation. What if Y/N told Wayne? Worse, if they had spread the word, then throwing their friendship to the wind?
He let his Judas Priest t-shirt slide across his skinny chest; he took the suit and hid it under the squeaky mattress of his bed. The silence was deafening; he couldn't stand a minute more. Why weren't they talking?
“Listen, Y/N…”
Click. Click click. Buuuuzzzz.
There it was, his walkie-talkie vibrating, a sign that Dustin needed him. “Henderson, that's not a good time”, he hissed.
“Dude, didn't you listen to the radio? There's a chase on the Fourth. What are you waiting for?”
Y/N's eyebrows rose upward. “So…Is Dustin your messenger?” They couldn't help but hide an imperceptible smile.
“Messenger? What? No! Kid is just enthusiastic about me and my superhero life. What are you…” Eddie sighed gravely. He placed the mask on his head. And then he heard it well: he heard a laugh.
“Why the fuck are you laughing at?”
“You're funny?”
“Ah! Are you calling me, the legendary Spider-Man, funny? That's...not cool at all!”
From Eddie's hands, a spiderweb opened his window. Once again, he would rush headlong to fight crime, the forces of evil, blah blah that whole same old story we all know, right? Yet his gaze remained glued to the Y/N. He felt the tension building and a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air. They should have talked about a lot more when Eddie got back. And finish the school project.
Eddie pulled up his mask, so much so that he looked with his own eyes and not through superhero lenses. “Are you angry?”
Y/N shrugged, leaning against the door. “I don't understand. How do you… do all those things at once? Above all…” The question only stuck in their throat for a moment. “Really, that time when you saved me from that huge rhino, did you think I was beautiful?”
Eddie gasped. He hadn't forgotten about that little flirtation at sunset after defeating Rhino. He hadn't forgotten the scent Y/N gave off, their warm body clutched to himself as they passed from roof to roof. Not even as his lips had touched theirs in a fleeting kiss.
The walkie-talkie vibrated again. “Eddie, move your ass!”
The young superhero brought his attention back to the person in his room.
He lowered his eyes, an uncertain smile blossoming on his face.
“You weren't beautiful. Much more”
Y/N's cheeks tinged with scarlet red, this time showing the boy how much the statement had made them smile. “You're such a pimp. Now, go”, they beckoned him towards the road.
“Duty calls me, baby! It was a pleasure!” he said. He covered his face, gave the military salute, and fell into the void, then took flight just like a bird. Free. Happy. For now.
Another day of duty for the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Yep.
Johnny eats you out like he's making love to your pussy. There, I said it.
He's all soft words and gentle touches. He holds your legs hiked up, plush thighs pressed into the soft of your chest. He's been between your thighs for fifteen minutes now, tongue warm and wet against your soaked folds.
you're not even close to cumming. He's taking his sweet time with you. testing your patience, tortureously slow.
the sheets lie crumpled near your hips where'd youd twisted your hands into the ceam fabric until Johnny'd pulled one of them to the top of his hair, urging you with a hum into your heat to weave your fingers through the dishelved mess of blonde.
His large hand rests at the backs of your knees, holding them still as you threaten to writhe beneath him. So far you've been good; quiet moans and gentle scratches at his scalp when his tongue slips passed your folds to stroke your walls juuust the way you like it.
Johnny strokes two heated fingers over and through your folds. his index and middle gathering your wetness as he runs them up and down the length of your pussy. he spreads the lips of your cunt, revealing your swollen button and Johnny swears he starts salivating at the sight.
"Got the prettiest pussy ever, y'know that?" he peers up at you, holding your legs to the side so you can see him. his cheeks are a rosy pink and your juices shimmer along the flushed skin of his jaw and up around his swollen lips.
a moan rips up your throat at the sight. you're a whimpering mess. face hot and hair stuck to your temples, chest rising feverishly. You nod your head a little bit, eyes heavy and lidded. you're not even sure what you're agreeing to.
"Oh, y'knew that?" caramel brows raise derisively. He shakes his head, "Course y'did. My smart girl." he smirks up at you as he sinks back down against the comforter between your thighs.
Johnny circles his finger against your clit, watching the way your lips fall apart and your eyes flutter shut against your cheeks, pulling the prettiest moans from your lips.
He swears he's gonna cum from that alone.
When you manage to open your eyes again, his big baby blues are on yours, head cocked to the side, studying the way your breath hitches when he slips his pointer and middle finger into your heat. You push yourself up onto your elbows, and Johnny presses your thighs higher up towards you.
"Hold this fr'me," he smiles, placing a kiss to your forehead.
You spread yourself for him at the globes of your ass, knees tucked to your chest.
"Thats my girl."
Johnny lies onto his stomach, wrapping his hands around your hips to hold you steady.
"Hey, sweetheart." He presses a kiss to your clit.
you whimper, chin trembling and lips pouted. your eyes are wide and watery. your palms are beginning to strain from where you spread yourself open for him so you move them to hold the backs of your thighs again sighing softly.
He looks up at you again, slowly licking a fat wet stripe up the very middle of your pussy before slipping his middle and index into your heat, gathering your wetness on his digits, he pulls them from your swollen folds and slides them into his mouth, eyes never leaving yours.
you're fucking lightheaded at the sight.
"Oh, Johnny. Please — please, m'bein' good," you pant, painted toes curling and eyes following his hand once he's finished licking your juices from his fingers only to stroke them up and down your folds teasingly.
"Wan' more, haa— please, please, please."
Johnny moves to sit back on his haunches.
"Shh-shh-shh," His brows furrow as he spreads the lips of your cunt again, scissoring your clit between his index and middle. "Don't I always take care of my girls?"
you nod, whimpering tearfully.
Johnny slides his hand up the soft back of your thigh, squeezing gently continuing up to meet your hand holding the backs of your knees together still.
"That's right. Daddy always takes care of you." his large hand, warm and calloused, slips between your palm and the bow of your knee and holds your hand there.
He pulls his hand from your pussy to cup your chin, leaning over and pressing a peck to your lips before sinking his fingers into your cunt. He keeps his eyes on your own as he strokes your inner walls. Calloused tips of his fingers curling and grazing your heat just right.
"Thats a tight pussy, baby."
Bottom lip between your teeth, you smile up at him coquetteishly. brows furrowed and pupils blown.
"God, you are just the sweetest thing, arent'ya," he coos, angling his hand so that he reaches that spongey patch the way he wants.
"Johnny—" you gasp when he grazes your clit with his thumb and presses down against the inside of you in that delicious way that sends your mind reeling, struggling to hold on. "Oh, fuck."
Johnny nods down at you smugly, and you nearly sob when the cool silver of his watch slips down his wrist some and gently rests against your heated folds.
the veins of his arm bulge under the amber ceiling light. blue and red running up his forearm. He's so beautiful like this, biceps bulging under the white fabric of his compression top, wrist deep in your pussy, whispering sweet words to you as he circles your clit.
"Y're so pretty," you coo, tightening your hold on your knees to squeeze his hand against yours. He squeezes back.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," you nod. toes curling and head falling back with a moan when he heats up his fingers against your velvet walls.
"Daddy thinks y'r pretty too."
you squeal.
"Prettiest thing he's ever seen."
"M'cuming!" you cry, and Johnny is just as quick to pull his hand away from yours to cup the base of your neck, pulling you in as he presses a kiss to the middle of your brow. He strokes you through it, fingers pumping in and out of your pussy leisurely.
"Thaaats it," he whispers against your clammy skin, "Oh, there we go."
you're trembling beneath him. walls contracting around his digits and tremors shivering through your thighs and jaw.
"That was a big one huh?"
Something about the way he says it -- so gentle and so sweet after your high -- you're reduced to sobs. breath catching in your chest and your knees knocking against his chest as you drop them, reaching for him.
Johnny scoops you against him, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling you up to sit on his lap, rocking you from side to side.
his name is a choked and watery wine in your throat. you're grasping onto him like he might up and disappear any moment.
"Hey, hey, hey," he turns and presses a kiss to your temple, "M'right here. m'not goin' anywhere. I got you."
You cry it out for a little longer. shivering deep breaths in his arms and letting him wipe the tears from under your eyes. Once you're breathing again and your grip on his arm losens a tad, he pulls back to look at you, pushing your hair behind your ears.
"Lemme see that pretty face. Hi, baby."
you giggle, sniffling tearfully.
"Hi."
"Y'wanna get some Lucky Charms and watch some TV?"
