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You and Otto meet for the first time during your third year at University, right outside the front steps of the science building. You were just minding your own business, taking a break after your last lecture to read through your notes before taking your bike and heading back home. You feel something rustle beside you, and raise your hand to squint into the dying sun rays only to spot the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen perching awkwardly on the step beside you.
‘So... Dr. Mahoney’s class is killer, huh?’
He spends the whole afternoon just sitting beside you, inching closer and closer every so often, always making sure that you’re comfortable with his presence. By the end, he was slouched over the steps. His full attention was on you, elbow resting by your knee as he hung onto your every word with such forceful intensity it often made you stutter. He’s so cute - gazing at you with those wide, wonderous eyes, as if each word out of your mouth was stealing more and more of his soul, and he couldn’t be happier. Finally, the sun began to settle behind the concrete towers behind your head, and Otto managed to qualm his laughter enough to ask if he could walk you back to your dorm.
Ever chivalrous, the first thing he does once you agree is to help you up. You can feel his hand shake as he tenderly slides his fingers against your palm, only letting go so you can interlink your arm within his. On the way back, the two of you talk so idly that passerbys would believe you’d known each other forever. It felt that way too, when he noticed how chilled you were getting in the late night air and shrugged off his thick woollen coat to wrap around your shoulders - it feels so warm and cosy and smells like a strange mix of chemicals and cherries and it’s just so HIM I-
He makes you keep it, when you arrive in your doorway. With a beaming smile, he glances shyly down at you and tells you that ‘he has thousands, but there’s only one of you.’ Mf is smooth, following this by asking if you would like to see him again sometime after class. You nod and reach up on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, gripping onto his biceps. He becomes all blushy and flustered, looking down at his feet when you pull away and walk inside.
The whole way home, he’s got his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets to keep them from trembling. He basically skips back to his room, heart fluttering so quickly against his breast he fears it may fly out and find its way back to you. As if it had been encaged, and just waiting for this moment to finally be set free. And it all just sort of takes off from there.
You two move into a small, but homely and cosy apartment soon after University. He spends a lot of time fretting about whether he’s moving too fast, if he’s making you uncomfortable, if he’s enough for someone who deserves the whole world and more. But then he comes home one day after a long morning searching for a job in New York and just... there you are. Just sitting on your armchair with a cup of tea, and he just goes all heart eyes and realises this is it. This is everything. And he never feels sad again, not after that moment. Not when he realises that all he needs is you, and he’ll be okay.
He’s still an old romantic at heart, and so he still likes to try and woo you at the weekends. He just likes to remind you as often as he can how much his heart aches for you, and so the two of you will take walks (and a few subways) down to Central Park. He sits on the edge of the Bethesda Fountain, the murmuring boats trickling through the water nearby fading into the backs of your minds as he pulls you down between his legs. He’s so corny, leaning you back against his chest and beginning to recite an Elizabeth Barrett Browning sonnet he’s memorised for you.
His arms link round your waist, letting you collapse into the brackets of his arms. Just taking a moment to stop the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel his chin move against the top of your head.
‘I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life.‘
Turns out, as he stumbles his hand behind him and reaches into his back pocket, Otto had also taken a rose with him to give to you. As he presents it in front of your face, he looks slightly aghast at how the squashed petals now wilt, but you readily accept it in return for a warm kiss.
He’s the kind of cutey patootie to try and make you breakfast in bed during cold spring mornings when you’re both still half asleep, often enjoying it while tangled together. Or, if you both have time for a lie in before work, he likes it when you slide up between his legs and lie against his squishy stomach. He always likes to read the Daily Bugle before his morning starts, but he enjoys it far more if he can tuck his chin against your face and read it over your shoulder too.
If he has to go to the lab, though, he always does two things. One, he leaves a fresh bouquet of your favourite flowers he orders daily in a little glass vase by your pillow. Two, he always leaves a sticky note on top of the tea pot, a different compliment each day.
He just wants you to know how he’s always thinking about you. Because he always is. You never leave his mind.
If he’s having trouble figuring out some of his equations while he’s at home, he’s S O CUTE!!! He becomes all grouchy, and he starts frowning and shaking his head in a way that reminds you of an upset little bunny. When he spots you out of the corner of his eye, he’ll just kind of tap his knee in his tell tale sign that he wants you to come sit on his lap and stroke back his hair to calm him down.
Bonus, he always gets to tickle your sides while you’re straddling his thick thighs. Your laughter is like a contagion to him, and in the end his formulas are left abandoned on the dinner table as he spreads his warm, large hands over the bottom of your thighs and picks you up.
Plus, if you reach up to cup his cheek and just stroke your fingers against the side of his face, he always does these whiny little gasping breaths and shuts his eyes tight in an effort to control himself. Play with those little arch fringes of hair that he has, though, and he can’t stop the rumbling groan that echoes from the back of his throat.
In conclusion, while the two of you are dating before the whole tentacle situation, your man is VERY affectionate. He’s the sort of guy who loves to sleep with his head on your stomach, but gets all moochy and flushes peach when you try to lie on his. You just have to coax him into realising how beautiful he is each night, and in the end he always turns into putty in your hands.
Although, he always feel so secure and safe and assured when you lie on his thighs and press little fervent kisses along their inside oh lordy.
He’s not massively into showing PDA in front of other people as he grows older. Mainly because he feels, as a scientist, that he should emit a sense of professionalism to others. But when you come to visit him in the lab, and you see how well his fusion reactor is doing during testing, he can’t help but just absolutely light up when you come through the door. Like he’s a naughty university student again, he takes off his gloves and goggles and drags you into the storage closet. Giggling, he cups your cheeks and presses a thousand kisses over every inch of your face, before you finally grab his vest and pull him down to eagerly meet your lips.
And then the accident happens. And you’re left in the wreckage as your boyfriend is carted off to the hospital as they try to saw off his extra arms. And it rocks you to your core, tendrils of fear and regret and nausea gripping your chest as you believe this is the end. There’s no way back from this.
He’s gone.
But then he appears, arms causing shockwaves across the ground. He’s wearing nothing but the tattered remains of an old hospital gown, his eyes wild and unfocused, but still staring straight at you. His first thought, after all the horrible things that have happened - that he’s done - was to come and find you. To make sure that you were still safe. To protect you. And so you stay with him, because you know the Otto you love is still in there somewhere and you’ll be damned if you leave him behind.
Although his temper is shorter than it used to be, and the voices in his head are screaming at him, the first thing he does when he finds you in the street is to lower himself to the ground and fall into your arms. He’s crying - no, he’s weeping, a blubbering, stuttering mess as he burrows into your neck.
His tentacles more protective, more possessive over you than Otto had ever been, but they’re never cruel. They’re just sort of, always there? Like another presence keeping an eye over you - nipping playfully at your waist, or handing you an item you didn’t even realise that you’d needed. It felt, sometimes, like they were wired into your brain as well. But that was just Otto. He just knew you that well, that major chunks of him are just a reflection of you.
He also uses them when he gets cocky as well, like after he’s managed to kidnap Spider-Man and hand him over to Harry Osborn. In celebration, he uses his arms to pick you up and pin you against his chest. You can feel his heart thundering against the bare, cold, skin of his chest, lips smirking as he carries the two of you off.
Mmmm he still loves it when you lift his glasses away from his eyes and place them on top of your head. He traces your every movement with trusting, easy eyes, resting his head back and sighing happily when you reach up and grab a fistful of his hair, trying to distract him from his work and allow Spider-Man enough time to swing in and stop Otto from levelling half the city.
He’ll love you forever, but it’s never easy. Or simple. It just takes a lot of time, and a lot of trust, and a lot of hope that one day the two of you will find your way back to the lovestruck students sitting on those steps, both of them seeing their whole world emerge in the others’ eyes.