His body was currently nestled between your spread legs, eyes roaming your body before fixing on your face. Your lower half is entirely exposed, the breeze from his open window nipping at your skin making you squirm. “This wasn't what I thought you meant when you asked for help, and I said yes Peter” you whine and buck your hips into his touch as his hands roam up your sides, rubbing and caressing your body. You can feel the cool metal of the singular web shooter strapped to his left wrist. “Oh this is fully what I intended when I asked baby, tug all you want, squirm all you want” he coos as he uncovers your breasts by pushing your shirt up to reveal them. “Need to test how strong the new formula is” he explains softly as his right hand falls between your open thighs, middle and ring fingers nudging open your slit and rubbing through your folds. Slick immediately collecting on the tips of his slender fingers.

With a sharp intake of breath you twist your body and try shifting your hips away from his hands. His free hand that has the web shooter aims towards your writhing leg and shoots webs that wrap your ankle tethering it to his foot board. “You sure this wasn’t what you intended, princess? You're so wet for me” he emphasizes his tease with a tilt of his head, smirking softly as his two fingers push at your hole.

You whine and push your hips back on his hand trying to get them inside you, your hole clenching at the small intrusion. “I missed you Pete, you've been so busy” you explain and look through your lashes at your boyfriend hovering over you, your eyes full of longing and love. “Awww well i'm here now baby” he leans down and presses his lips to yours just as his two fingers push knuckle deep inside you. You let out a short surprised moan against his lips as you kiss back greedily. You tug at the webs around your wrists, hands desperate and itching to touch Peter. “Keep tugging baby, try your hardest, you can do it” he mumbles into your mouth, his words both encouraging and mocking before humming when you whine in response. Goosebumps rise on your skin from the pleasure, his free hand coming to pin your hips down holding them still.

Pumping his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt, a sloppy squelching sound filling the room along with your muffled whimpers and moans. “Fuck!~” you let out a plaintive cry and pull away from peters mouth when his thumb is added in, stimulating your clit. Rubbing small circles on your bundle of nerves as his fingers speed up their movement, making your mouth fall open and your head fall back against his pillows. Your hands tug as well as your leg at his webbing, the action doing nothing to tear or unstick it. A heat spreading through your body, you liked this idea of him tying you up with his webs more than you could’ve guessed, the heat settling and growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Come on baby, i don't think your tryin’ hard enough to break out” he taunts as his long fingers find that spongy spot deep inside you and start abusing it, the rough pad of his tongue speeding up its circles. “Gonna have you cumming before you break the webs princess” he chuckles softly and leans down to kiss along the exposed column of your neck. Your head goes fuzzy from his mouth on you, his fingers ruthlessly thrusting inside you, the feeling of him all over you. “Can’t- I can’t do it Pete, i cant break em’ fuck- please baby im gonna cum!” you whine and cry out, your eyes squeezed shut as you teeter on the edge of your climax.

He grabs ahold of your chin and moves your head up the movement forces your eyes open, you stare into his deep brown eyes, his pupils blown.

“Not yet baby, the experiment hasn't gone on long enough, need to see if they break” his voice comes out sweet yet concedesing as he crashes his lips against yours to muffle your wanton moan.

Truthfully Peter had gotten enough information from all your squirming and pulling that he figured it was strong enough, he was just having far too much fun playing with his pretty girlfriend.

It wasn't like you were only competitive and hard-working because of Peter. You would never give him that satisfaction, even if it was the case it was the truth.

No, you had always been this determined and hard working, even in simple high school chemistry labs. But the pool had certainly widened since high school, high achievers with much sharper teeth swam alongside you now.

You had to prove yourself more than ever before, but the reward of the Deans List and praise from your family and professors was worth the endless work and study-sheets.

You had actually worked hard to get to where you were now.

Unlike some people, where it came naturally. Or their parents had money, and could weasel their way into the Dean's mind like snakes, to cater to their golden child.

The mere thought of Peter Parker made your jaw clench so hard you worried teeth would crack.

No, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction, even though this was in your mind, and your mind alone- that you gave him even the slightest bit of time in your day. Or night, in this case. It was now 12:05.

Six minutes after the deadline for your secondary thesis, your countless months (years really, you always just used a near dying pen and a napkin to jot it down) of jumbled ideas, random thoughts and hypotheses spewed out onto a nice, neat document.

Organized, somehow, when your mind felt like it was moving a mile a minute, jumping from one thought to the next.

And somehow, he was in the mix. Of all the things you could think of, he was right up there with the worst of the worst.

You should be celebrating, it was done, and you were free. But all you felt was built churning in your gut, making you queasy.

Whether it was the lack of sleep, the limited and very poor diet and the endless stress and perfectionism, or if it was Parker on your mind- you didn't know. It would be funny if you told him the thought of him actually made you sick.

But that would tell him that you thought about him. And you couldn't have that.

You were winning. You had to stay winning.

You dragged yourself from the mirror, slamming the laptop shut before you let out a deep sigh. It was as if the weight had lifted, just a smidge from your shoulders, but there was still the pressure of nerves.

You had to win this. Winning this meant a free week at an all inclusive resort in Mexico, with a guest of your choosing. You needed a heavy handed pina coloita, and a beach with clear waters more than anything after this year.

If you lost that… if you lost that to Parker…

You shook your head, trying to rid the cobwebs of dread and anxiety that coated your mind. You were free, for now, at least. In a few days, you’d present your research. The next week, you’d have plane tickets to Mexico in your hand.

Tomorrow, you’d go to a cafe with your best friend Gwen, buy nine dollar iced vanilla lattes and check out a new antique store you’d been dying to explore.

It was going to be a good day.

And for now, you had to just focus on taking the days, one at a time. And not think about Peter Parker, and that charming, smug smirk. 

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The nerves had threatened to consume you alive a week ago.

They started to slither their way back to the surface as you tried to enjoy your much deserved break from school work.

It had been nearly seven days on the dot since you had presented your findings, Dr. Banner silently cheering you on from the back corner of the room, which was much needed, a contrast from the cool and collected looks of the committee staring at you as you presented.

You had worn black that day, knowing it would save you from the embarrassment of visible sweat stains, thank god. You had even traded your three espresso shots for a measly one and a half, knowing it would churn with the nerves in your stomach and possibly make you a jittery, vomiting mess in front of everyone.

All and all, it had gone as well as you thought it could go. Dr. Banner thought so at least. Not even the sight of Parker could break your stride as you left the little meeting room, his eyes being the first thing that met your gaze as you left.

He was the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on.

And that pissed you off even more.

How’d it go bunny? He had asked, a twinkle in his eye as he took you in.

You refused to let yourself curl inwards as much as you wanted to, it was something you would not allow in his presence. Your eyes had rolled at the pet name he had refused to drop, despite your countless requests to drop it.

You were not a bunny. You were not his bunny.

“Excellent. Break a leg Parker.” You had snapped, brushing past him, the smell of his husky cologne choking you. He sucked the air out of every room and hallway he was in, not just because of his larger size, but because he was just that much of a cocky prick.

You almost guaranteed he had called every girl something sweet to get into their pants.

Over your dead body you’d ever be one of them, the rake.

He chuckled at your comment, knowing you meant it literally. You never filtered yourself around him.

“That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble someday bun.” he called as you walked away, turning the corner before you could let yourself react. He did not ruin the perfect, checking items off your list day.

And he wouldn't ruin it today.

In a week, you’d know if you had scored two tickets to Mexico, and the excitement mixed with anxiety made you want to stay curled up in bed, under twenty blankets. You squeezed your knees into your chest, attempting to take deep breaths, though they came out shaky.

You had to pull yourself together, rip it off like a bandaid. Tune everything else out, make everything into a list.

You pulled yourself out of your tangled position, reaching for a notebook you always kept handy at your bedside table, for exactly this reason.

All that could be heard was your shaky breaths, the loud hum of the wonky AC you begged your landlord to look at for the last month, and your pen scribbling on the page so hard you thought it would rip.

1. Put on an outfit

2. Fix my hair

3. Make my bed

4. Fill up water bottle

5. Check the stove is turned off

6. Subway

7. Find out if I did all that work for nothing (I don't care about the ‘experience’)

8. Start making my packing list with Gwen, or drink myself sick in sadness

🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧  🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 

You arrived with five minutes to spare, and you had cursed everyone in existence for your lateness.

You scrambled to try and fix your hair before stepping inside, but it was no use. The wind was picking up, despite spring being in full swing. If you had spent less time panicking, and picking your outfit, you honestly could've used the walk.

Maybe then you would've avoided the subway delay, and the hundreds of people that lacked spacial awareness to move out of the way, rather than standing around in congested herds.

Shaking the past from your mind, there was no use in dwelling on the what-ifs now, you carried yourself forward, headstrong and confident through the doors.

You would win this.

If you told yourself that enough times, maybe it would come true.

You blinked to adjust to the flickering buzz of the fluorescent lights as you stepped inside the older building, making your way up the stairs to the same conference room you had entered a week earlier. You followed the low mumbling voices, surprised there were only a handful of people hanging around the doorway.

Had the other students already gone inside? Or had they been eliminated already?

You rubbed your hands subtly on your skirt before fidgeting again with the rings on your fingers, before an older woman directed her attention to you. Her face lit up.

“Ah Miss. Y/L/N. Right on time. Come on in and we’ll get started.”

You swallowed, trying to plaster a smile on your face despite it most likely looking something like a grimace as you stepped past some people to make your way inside.

All that waited for you was empty chairs- almost, all empty.

Peter sat at the desk that faced the dozens of other chairs,his long legs brushing the chair you assumed was yours. You avoided his gaze as you sat, smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt before folding them neatly in your lap.

“Not even a hello? I’m hurt, bunny.”

“Not now Parker.” you bit out, not sparing him a glance as everyone sat in their seats.

“You’re late, you know. I was beginning to get worried.”

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

“I was not late, and you are so self absorbed and lack the human decency to worry for anyone but yourself. I could be skinned alive in front of a live audience, and you would be at the concession stand.” you snarled, earning a chuckle out of him.

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Are we set to begin Miss. Y/L/N?”

You felt heat rise across your body as you quickly averted your eyes, trying to fix a smile on your face. “Yes ma’am. I apologize."

“Good. So to begin, we all want to thank you both for your hard work, time and dedication with your work. Both of you should be proud of your hard work.”

You nodded, trying to seem engaged as she droned on about academic honours and such. You needed her to get on with it. Your attention started to wane, zoning in as soon as she grabbed her score sheets from last week.

“It was extremely tough to decide who to give this award to. Your scores were identical. Both of you are tied for first.”

You closed your eyes, clenching your fists and started to pray for a genie to come in, and give you three wishes.

This could not be happening.

“You both scored a 97. That is something you should each be extremely proud of. Therefore, you both are winners.”

Yes, yes she had said that already! Jesus fucking Christ woman…

“Does that mean we rock paper scissors to see who wins?” you asked, eyebrow raised as you shifted your gaze to look at Peter.

“I always throw a rock, but I’m sure I could mix it up this time with paper.”

“Well don't give away your tricks now.” he muttered under his breath.

He was calm and collected, as he always was.

Why the hell wasn't he concerned about this?

“As fun as that would be, we collectively agree it is not fair to give someone the pair of tickets, rather than the other. So, for the first time in the history of this competition, you will each be receiving one ticket.”

Your eyes widened. Oh. Fuck.

“Oh?” you sputtered, feeling Peters stare on the side of your face as you collected yourself.

Everyone was smiling. You felt like smacking your head off the table in front of you repeatedly, until you were unconscious and blood coated the walls.

“Congratulations you two! Start planning matching outfits. We will send all the details to your emails within the next few days.” Someone said, who you couldn't focus on, as your head was buzzing so loud it was as if mosquitoes had swarmed your ears.

You felt dizzy.

All this work, the effort and countless nights you had put into this project.

And you were to share the celebration with Peter fucking Parker.

Your arch nemesis.

The universe had played some sick, cruel, twisted joke on you, pointing down from above and laughing so hard the earth had begun to shake. Chair legs began to push against the tile, squeaking as a steady buzz of chatter hummed in the room, and yet you felt frozen in your seat.

“Matching outfits eh? What do you think, pineapple, or Hawaiian button- ups?” Peter's teasing voice broke you from your spell, making the room come back into focus, and then some.

It was too loud, too hot, too much.

And he made everything worse. He always made everything worse.

“I cannot believe this. I cannot believe you.” You pointed, shooting up from your seat- your eyes sharp enough to stab daggers into his chest. Steam might as well have been spewing from your ears.

He was hazed over in a paintbrush stroke of red, anger clouding your vision. He swallowed every single frame of vision you had, whenever he was in a room.

This time, it was no different. He threw his hands up in mock defense.

“Congrats to you too bunny. We’ll be in touch soon, I’m sure.” was all he said, and you couldve sworn a sliver of hurt was etched across his features, before it had adjusted itself back into the cool, calm and collected nature he displayed so well: with that taunting smile, those stupid fucking dimples appearing as he brushed past you, too close to be anything friendly.

You heard his name called by someone, another voice calling yours to talk more about where you had landed marks, and where the three had been taken off.

You didn't care anymore.

You just needed to call Gwen, and tell her about the nightmare that had just taken place, in real time.

🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧  🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 

It had been two weeks and you still could not get the last conversation with Peter out of your head.

You had gotten everything out of your system, when you were out at the bar with your friends, when you had started packing your bag while on the phone with your mom, and now in the car as Gwen drove you to your terminal.

“I wanted to go with you so bad Gweny.” you sighed, looking longingly out the window as the rain pattered down. There was no point lingering on the past now, you knew that. You had psychoanalyzed the whole situation to a tee, including Peter's reaction.

You don't know why that little flash of emotion had stuck with you so much.

Was it the fact you were the one who had cracked his facade? Or was it just suppressed joy that your harsh words had landed their blow as intended?

You hadn't seen him since that moment in the room, and it wasn't exactly like you wanted to seek him out. What were you going to do, apologise? You had meant what you said, and he needed to hear it.

You had to stand your ground, and you were going to continue to show him, and others- for that matter that you weren't one to be walked all over.

“I know babe, but its okay! WIth all the juicy drama deets I’ll get, it will make me feel like I’m right there with you.” she laughed as you rolled your eyes. “There won't be any updates because as soon as we land I am getting as far away from Parker as I can get.”

She sighed, watching the wipers move back and forth, the traffic pretty well at a standstill. “I’m sure it will be a fantaboluis love story for the ages. The one bed trope, enemies to lovers and all.”

“If that's the case I’m drowning myself in the ocean.” you snorted, popping a gummy-bear in your mouth.

Traveling made you nervous, which made you snacky, and somehow, hangry at the same time.

“You know, my dad has been thinking about another vacy soon. Would you want to come back to Mexico together?” she asked, reaching over to squeeze your hand, noticing you had begun to fidget.

Gwen's parents were quite wealthy, and something like a week long Mexico trip was pocket change to them. Still, it didn't make her offer any less meaningful.

“That would be awesome Gweny. I’d love to. I’m sorry again about this all not working out..” you sighed, admiring her freshly manicured fingernails.

They were sparkly and long, compared to yours, which were torn up and chewed from anxiety. You cursed yourself for not stopping your nervous tics, the skin around your nails all bloody and scratched. You picked at your skin, your nails, your lips.

And it was ten times worse this week, for obvious reasons.

Still, you had at least tried, painting them a bright, summery colour. You tried to stray from anything dull and flat for this trip, focusing more on bright colours and fun patterns. You had a whole compartment in your suitcase just for whimsical jewellery and hair pieces you couldn't wait to play around with.

You tried to hold onto that as Gwen found a spot to briefly park, close to the automatic doors that allowed the chill and crisp breeze inside.

“Dont you dare apologize! It’s going to be great. I promise. Pinky.”

She stuck out her pinky, and you couldn't help but let yours entangle in that security of oath.

“If you say so.” You sighed, sad to leave her side, as you stepped out of the car, pulling up your hood before you started to grab your bags from the trunk.

The warm smell of florals clouded your senses as she wrapped you in a warm embrace, not caring the rain was spilling down into her seat, her door slightly ajar.

“Be safe. And remember this is a vacation. It's supposed to be fun. Let yourself have that, babe.”

“I love you.” was all you could whisper, trying not to cry.

It was only a week. A week, seven days, you kept telling yourself.

You blamed it on the nerves, and the fact you hadn't traveled alone before. And the fact you got homesick. And because you were going to be on a four hour flight crammed next to Peter Parker.

“I love you too. Next time.” she smiled, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Send me pictures! Love youuu!!” she blew kisses as she got back into the driver's seat, speeding off into the rainfall, as you waved- knowing she’d spot you in her rearview.

You collected yourself, hastily scrambling to get inside before your shoes soaked from the inside out, when you bumped into something hard and solid.

A flannel you knew all too well was what you grabbed onto to steady yourself, looking up to see your walking nightmare staring back at you.

You quickly regained your composure, shrugging him off as you took off your coat, praying you didn't look like a drowned rat when he looked like… well, that.

The backwards baseball cap and watch that adorned his veiny arms really was doing something wonderful for him. You hated it.

“Well that was a very sappy, romantic goodbye. I almost shed a tear.”

“You had nothing better to do than to watch me say goodbye, like a pervert? Do you always just watch women do mundane things and make snarky comments about it?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, and you fought the urge to run his feet over with your suitcase wheels.

“You couldn't have been useful and I don't know, maybe checked in?”

“I wanted to wait for you.”

“Oh so this is a bonding exercise.”

“Would you like it to be? I can get really personal if you want me to, bunny.”

You turned away, heading towards the check in desk. Wanting to get this over and done with, because the nerves had started to claw their way back up, not hindering due to Peter's stupid banter.

“I can be anything you want me to be.”

“I want you to be quiet and check in your bag.” You snapped, turning and almost causing another crash between the two of you again.

He was getting under your skin already. You needed to calm down, and get a grip.

“Noted.” he nodded, grabbing your bag, rolling it over to get your luggage tags. There was nothing but silence between the two of you as you each scanned your passports, letting the machine whirl and print out passes, before silently putting them on your bags. He grabbed your suitcase before you could protest, heading off to the desk.

You huffed in annoyance, hating when others did things for you without asking. Did he not think you were capable of weighing your goddamn luggage?

A loud laugh echoed from his direction, the airline worker beaming from ear to ear at a joke he must have made. She looked love-whipped, and you pitied her. So many girls looked at him in the same way, like a newly fostered puppy.

What effect did he have on people, and why did it not work on you?

You shook the thought from your head, because if anything you should be thankful his charms didn't work on you. The last thing you needed was to be a fly in his spiderweb entrapment. He would eat you alive, if you let him get close enough.

After what felt like forever, he finally made his way back to you, a look of achievement on his face as the lady at the desk watched his every move, whispering to her coworker beside her.

“All good. Security?”

“Oh, you didn't want to eat her face off first?”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. You tried not to look at his biceps.

And failed.

“What makes you think that?”

“Maybe because she looks like she wants to eat yours?”

He laughed.

“What?” you said, annoyed beyond belief. This trip was going to be a lot more difficult than you thought it would be. And you hadn't even gone through security yet.

Oh brother.

“Are you… jealous?”

Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. Did you sound jealous? Oh god. This was bad.

“No! Of course not. I’m pissed off you took your sweet time.”

“Our flight isn't for another two hours. Are you seriously worried about being late to sit in chairs and people watch?”

“Yes.” you grumbled, adjusting your carry on bag on your shoulder, fidgeting with the strap anxiously. He didn't know of your travel anxiety, or more so your overall general anxiety, not that you expected him to or planned to inform him of such info.

Everything tended to make you a little anxious, but crowds, airports and overall travelling made you super anxious. It was the last place anyone wanted to be at, of course- and the nervous energy that hung in the air like a thick cloud made you feel queasy.

What if something happened, where you were late to the flight? What if you had troubles at security and they thought you had a bomb and pulled you aside for a five hour long interrogation? What if the flight was delayed? What if you were sick…

“Hey? Helloooo bunny?” Peter waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your dazed trance.

”I was just kidding bunny. I’m sorry I took longer than expected. She had a lot of... personal questions.”

“Of course she did. Lets just get this over with.” you mumbled, trying to ignore the fact he had actually apoglized to you. That had to be a first, possibly ever, for him to do to anyone.

Once the hard part was over (no secret bombs on you, as expected), you followed your airport routine checklist to keep you grounded as you waited for the flight.

1. Find your gate

2. Grab a much needed caffeinated beverage (why was the flight so god damn early?!)

3. Grab snacks for plane

4. Fill up your water and use the bathroom as many times as needed once it was scouted out

5. Wait at your gate

As the minutes grew closer to boarding time, you began to get more anxious, and it had gotten to the point Peter had for sure noticed it. Your very visible leg bouncing and constant surveillance of the gate was noticeable to anyone who had eyes, really.

“You okay?” he finally asked, breaking the silence between you two. You nodded, barely registering what he said. You just wanted this over with. To be in sweet and sunny Mexico, away from the large crowds, the loud noise, the constant movement and rush.

“You sure? Because you look like you're two seconds away from becoming Twitchy the squirrel. Was that second coffee needed?”

“I’m going to punch you.”

“Oh so she speaks. Finally.”

You sighed. “I just… really hate airports okay? Sorry.”

You turned to meet his gaze, and you could've sworn something like sympathy was reflected back at you.

“What about them do you not like, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Everything.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

And that was that.

When it was finally time for you to board, you practically leapt out of your seat, headphones nearly sliding off your head from the force. You felt yourself shut down again as you both made your way onto the jet bridge, but you knew it was the exhaustion heavy in your bones from the constant stress.

You prayed you would be able to get a wink of sleep on the plane, but that would be unlikely. It was only once you were both seated, the plane starting to make its way down the runway you felt yourself trying to speak again.

Your tongue felt thick, your mouth filled with invisible, weighted sand. You needed a distraction during this takeoff, or else you would have an anxiety attack in the bathroom, no matter how many flight attendants yelled at you to take your seat.

You needed Peter Parker to say something.

Anything. And thats how you knew you were completely and utterly fucked.

“I think we may be lucky this time if the plane crashes.” he muttered, making you tense up even more.

Okay, maybe you didnt need him to speak anymore.

“What on earth could you possibly mean?” you gritted out between clenched teeth, your hands wrung in your lap.

“I mean we definitely have a doctor on board. I think I also saw a guy from the military. And I know the girl we passed two aisles ahead is a therapist.”

“How on gods green earth do you know that?” Your legs began to bounce as you felt yourself starting to leave the ground, tilted up on an angle.

“I saw her reading some fancy book. And she has the glasses they all wear.”

“And we’re talking about this because…?”

“Its good to be prepared. Or its just a game you can play.”

You sighed, your hand instinctively reaching for Peters as you started to soar, pinching your eyes shut.

His hand was warm and soft, enveloping yours with a gentle squeeze on reassurance.

“Do you think the therapist could help me with you?” you asked, not fully grasping the situation at play. The fact you were holding onto Peter's hand for dear life, and the fact he was letting you squeeze his hands so hard his bones were sure to ache afterwards.

“I think you’ll be needing my assistance if we end up stranded on an island.”

“To attract bait?”

“Exactly.” he smiled, looking down to where your hands were intertwined.

You quickly adjusted yourself, flustered as you settled back into your seat, in hands and arms in your own arm rests.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. Just shrugged.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself now.” you quickly looked away, smoothing the wrinkles in your sweatpants as you stumbled over a one sided conversation.

This was weird. You were making this weird.

“You don't have to.” he murmured, before slipping on his headphones and shutting his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

Conversation done. Ended.

So why in the hell were you slightly upset at that, when all you wanted for him was to shut up?

It was nerves. It was just nerves, and this flying day was making you antsy.

Of course you wanted the distraction to continue. But instead of making another scene, you tried to do the same- by shutting your eyes and trying to make yourself comfortable (never going to happen).

You gave up and started making a list of things for when you landed.

1. Grab carry on

2. Unboard the plane

3. Grab luggage from correct area

4. Find your driver

5. Triple check th-

“Wake me when they come by with snacks please n thank you bunny.” a featherlight whisper tickled the hairs on your neck as he adjusted himself back in his seat, hands folded in his lap as he drifted off.

Leaving you alone with endless depths of worry that pooled in your mind.

 🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧  🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 

You couldn't fully let the tension out of your shoulders until you were within the safe confines of your room at the resort, your bags dropped and your shoes kicked off.

The tile was cool against them, the air conditioning humming steadily in the background.

It was a beautiful resort.

Nothing within your tax bracket, to say the least. Though everything seemed to be as a broke university student.

Everything had been smooth from exiting the plane, your bags were a) boarded on the correct plane, and b) were not lost or damaged (though it always too forever for them to emerge from the plane, which made you think the worst of the worst happened).

Peter had continued his endless jests on the drive over, and they refused to cease until you had practically shut the door in his face. Not even the warm towel and complementary drink when you arrived shut him up (though why were there warm towels in Mexico)?

But now you were here, you were alive in one piece.

You had survived the travel day, and once your suitcase was unpacked, because of course- you couldn't possibly think of resting until that was done and you had changed out of your dirty outside clothes, you could plop down on that comfy looking bed and doze… wait.

An anomaly broke you from your peaceful moment, as you observed a door.

A door that led directly to Peter's room.

Oh fuck.

You quickly ran over to it, locking it firmly. Not that you thought he would barge in unannounced, but Jesus you felt better with it secured.

Of course it was like this, because why would it not be? You were a shared party, so it made sense there would be a shared door. Still…

You sighed, closing your eyes as you leaned against the wood, trying to ground yourself. You were just overly tired and emotional from the long day, you couldn't let these little, insignificant things get to you.

Plus, it could be a benefit if there was an intruder. You could just lead them right to his room instead.

For now, you had to focus on what you could control, aka oragnizing.

You got to work, letting your mind carry you away before you heard three quick raps on your door. Your other, door.

You frowned, quickly unlocking your shared door, wondering why the hell he was choosing to abuse this method of annoying you.

It was truly cruel. You werent even this low.

“What?!”

“Dinner time.” was all he said, inviting himself in.

“Uhm,come on in?”

He beamed from ear to ear, that little dimple appearing like an old friend, always showing when he knew he truly got under your skin.

“Damn you’ve unpacked?”

“You havent?”

He shrugged, spinning around to get a glimpse of your room. “The same as yours, I imagine.” you grumbled, stomping off to the bathroom, for no reason other to get rid of him.

“No one really unpacks on vacation bunny. Anyone who told you that was a liar.”

“I like my things the way I like my things.” was all you said as you grabbed your makeup bag, trying to fix your mascara.

“You sure do like your things…” he muttered, making you scoff.

Now it was two in the mirrors reflection, and you wanted to turn around and stab him with the wand. “Why are you here Peter? I’m busy.”

“Telling you it’s dinner time and we should go.” he said, leaning against the doorframe like some kind of book boyfriend. All tall and broading, swallowing the frame as he crossed his arms, biceps bulging against his crisp white button down.

He needed to get a grip.

“Okay first off there is no universally set dinner time. I know people who eat at 9 o’clock, thank you very much.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “And secondly, why do you not get the hint?”

“Am I not allowed to watch you do a simple task?”

“No.”

He scoffed. “You wound me.”

“Good. I’ll stab this mascara wand in your eye.”

“That is surprisingly very arousing.” he commented, making you whip around in disbelief.

“I suppose anything you do is though. Even when violent.”

“Peter.”

“Fiesty.”

“Get. Out. Please.” you gritted between clenched teeth. You had to fix your hair and get dressed before you could make an appearance at dinner, and if he argued about staying for that, they’d find a body and a note.

He thew his hands up in mock surrender as he moved away from the doorframe, disappearing from your view. It was only when you heard a door open and shut you could feel your chest sag, the air whooshing out of your lungs.

You fixed yourself, slipping on a dress Gwen picked out for you. Gwen.

You quickly shot her another text, telling her every last detail that occurred over the last five minutes. Tossing your phone on your bed, you gathered your wits about you before you opened the door- your door, to yet again be met with Peter's broad chest, which you almost ran directly into.

“Shall we go?” was all he asked. You couldn't even get a response out, shocked at the mere audacity. To be fair, his headstrong attitude was quite attractive, even if it was just to piss you off.

But you tried to not mix the words “Peter Parker” and “attractive” together, even though you repeatedly failed. It was like Pavlov's dog with the bell. How could you not slightly salivate when he looked like that?

But it was his damn attitude.

And you hated him, you reminded yourself as you trailed slightly in front of him, letting your hips dramatically sway as you made your way to the main buffet.

“I got us a reservation at one of the nicer sports here.” he said, his words guiding you in the opposite direction of the original plan.

“What if I said no, I’m not going to dinner with you?”

“Well you did say that. And now here we are. I can be persuasive.”

“You can be a real pain in the ass.” you snapped, falling back to meet his long strides, as he was now the one in charge.

Clearly.

He gave you no more details, so you had no choice but to follow him. It was nice honestly to not have to plan for once. But it still made you uneasy.

“I think you like me, sometimes.” he shrugged, a smirk growing on his face at your clear annoyance and disbelief at his audacity.

“I can tolerate you.”

“I can handle tolerate.” He guided you with a warm, calloused palm on the lower of your back, into a dimly lit restaurant, tables flickering with candles, illuminating the dozens of roses scattered among the premises.

It was beautiful. Far out of your wallets reach.

A glass of wine was poured into your glass as you sat down, curtsy of the house. Whatever that meant.

You basked in the silence, the murmured chatter of the tables around you, filled with couples. You felt like a sore thumb. But the way Peter was currently looking at you, made you feel as if you fit right in.

He looked at you like you were his.

And you liked it. You hated that you liked it.

“Why so fancy?”

He shrugged. “It was the best I could give you.”

An eyebrow perched to your forehead at his statement. “You do not like me.”

“I never once said, or implied that bunny.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes-”

“Are we seriously going to bicker back and forth like children on vacation?” he asked, amused with a tinge of annoyance laced in.

“Yes.”

“Jesus I need a drink.” he laughed, raising his glass to yours.

A truce. “Amen to that.”

 ⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･

Peter was a sensible man.

At least he thought he was.

He tried to be smart, but with you, he seemed to turn stupid.

You made him excited and eager to engage in whatever it was you two were playing. He yearned to figure you out, you were a puzzle stuck in his mind, one he wanted to unwind like a rubrics cube.

How he could find someone so attractive was beyond him.

He hadn't met anyone before, who had made him this stupid.

This need for attention, only from one person. And now, that need to figure you out had changed course to figure out how to get you back to your room without you vomiting everywhere.

Dinner had been fun. He never figured that would be possible with your instant bickering, but the two of you had settled on something of a truce.

He had suggested dropping any hard feelings, just for the week. Friends, or something of the sort. Not that he had any hard feelings to begin with, and not that he wanted to be friends. The word almost pained him to say.

But it was better than the annoyed glances you spared him, mixed with hints of attraction.

He had to embrace those longing gazes you gave him when you thought he didn't notice, because confronting that without a hint of sarcasm in his voice would likely scare you away.

“Am I scaring you?” you had asked, somehow concerned with his well being as you stumbled back to your room, gripping his arm like it was a teetering life-ring thrown at sea.

He smiled gently, unable to control it around you. “You could never scare me, bunny.”

He didn't know why the nickname had stuck, but it had. You claimed to hate it. But those concerns weren't vocalized now, and hadn't been in a while.

Peter remembered the exact moment he had assigned it to you, the first day you walked into lab, dressed in frilly pinks and whites. Your nose had scrunched at something your friend had said as you two sat down, and it had reminded him of a little baby bunny.

It was adorable. He wasn't sure if you had picked up on the habit, but he refused to spoil it, for fear you'd stop. That, and the constant nail strumming across any hard surface, before you wrung them in your lap, fidgeting with whatever clothing hugged your pretty curves that day.

The way you gripped his arm this time, a painful, nails clawing into skin in warning grip broke him from his trance as he led you closer to the rooms, eager for you to lean on him instead of the walls for support.

“Did we overdo it bunny?”

“No, no I just feel dizzy. And I really, really fucking want Goldfish.” you admitted, fumbling for the room key in your little bag.

He always wondered why women's clothing never had decent, or any pockets, for that matter. It drove him mad, at the mere thought of such inconvenience.

As mentioned, he was a sensible, practical man. You were the smartest person he knew. Maybe you knew the answer.

“Because designers hate women and the whole world hates women.”

“I don't hate women”. he shrugged as you finally pushed your door open, with much more body force then required, stumbling into your air conditioned room, yet the chill did nothing to soothe the pink tinge in his cheeks when he was around you for too long.

“I know you don't. You try to get into their pants and get more benefits on flight packages.” you mumbled into the sheets as you face planted into the bed, causing him to bark out a laugh.

“You’re cute.”

You mumbled something else, too muffled by the sheats to be heard by him. He wanted to help you get comfortable, knowing that it would especially help with any anxiety you'd have, whether it be about organizing, getting an alarm scheduled, even though you were on vacation he was sure that aspect didn't matter…

“Are you going to be okay, bunny?” he asked softly, coming over to the bed to rest a hand on your back.

Your skin was soft and smooth, smelling of vanilla and citrus.

He wanted to bask in it.

“Yes, yes promise. Pinky.” You weakly held up your hand, extending a pinky in offering. He quickly accepted it, wanting nothing more than to touch you, even if it was brief contact.

The promise hummed true in his chest, warming his insides as he slipped from your room, unable to stop looking over his shoulder as he made his way back to the hallway- determined and on a mission.

You were mumbling more nonsense, the sound drowning out in the background as he made his way quickly down the hall, in order to find the nearest convenience store, or something of that establishment within the resort.

He needed to grab you Goldfish, and a nice little drink, like a Gatorade . That always made him feel just a wee bit better when he had thrown back too many beers back in his day (when he actually used to be a serious partier, now he just smoked weed and drank wine with beautiful women aka you).

Even if it was just a placebo effect, he hoped it’d do the same to you when you’d find yourself batting in and out of consciousness, blindly grabbing the nightstand and willing to drink plant water you'd be so parched.

After a few more minutes of looking, he managed to navigate his way around to pick you up everything you needed. He was almost positive you had packed your entire apartment, you were so organized and prepared and he admired that about you.

You were just so smart. It drove him wild.

Jesus Parker okay keep it in your pants until you're back in your room.

With quick haste, he managed to sneak back into your room, through the shared door that was unexpected, but welcomed.

You looked like you had fallen asleep, by the steady sound of your even breaths, and the way your lashes had fluttered against your cheeks. But as he neared, it started to stir.

As if you were excited to see him. Or maybe you just hated him that much.

But if she hated you so much, why does she look at you like that sometimes? Why is she letting you comfort her, when she cannot stand to be aided?

The thought made him smile to himself, and he placed a gentle, soothing touch to your lower back again, just to make himself known.

“I’m not sure if you're awake or not my love.” he murmured softly, knowing damn well you were. “But I brought you some treats, including some Goldfish.”

He placed down your snacks, drink and various over the counter meds that helped him when he was under the weather. Additionally, he placed a chilled washcloth down, one he had brought from his room.

He felt guilty going around your room when you weren't fully awake and alert. It didn't feel right to him, even if it meant only grabbing a mere washcloth.

“I hope you feel better and we can continue this truce tomorrow.” he smiled, placing a kiss to his fingertips before letting them brush the exposed skin of your back, your dress cut and tailored perfectly to reveal your beautiful skin, teasing him for a taste.

Before he could let his mind wander any longer, he wished you goodnight, shutting the door behind him. Letting his hand linger on the knob, he sighed.

Cursed himself.

And after he had stripped naked, pumping himself dry in the shower to the thought of you- the way you laughed when you thought he wasn't around, the little smile you did when you thought he wasn't looking, the way your heartbeat fluttered around him when he was close enough… the little sounds he was sure you’d make, the way you’d look under him…

And he had finished the night by cranking the handle to ice cold, forcing himself to sit in misery until his mind could settle enough for some semblance of sleep.

⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･

My love.

He had called you my love. His love.

It had made your heart kick into overdrive.

It was a silly reaction to something so simple but fuck.

You were fucked.

You were not as drunk, and or hungover as you thought you would be. Your heart nearly melted when you broke from your spell of unconsciousness, noting all the little things he had left you. Including goldfish.

The little bugger was sneaking his way into your heart more than your logical mind could combat it. Maybe it was the lack of academic drive that had you place your guard down, to make this little truce with him.

Maybe it was because you felt you were on equal ground, in the here and now. Maybe it was because you secretly wanted to be truce-like with him, and there were feelings that were hidden that were now being shifted and thrown around like a tsunami when you had somehow managed the storm thus far.

It was terrifying, the way you had let yourself cave in so easily.

Was he that bad?

Yes, yes inner monologue, he was.

And even though a truce had been put in place, thankfully before you had finished that first glass of wine, you still had to be at least semi-cautious.

It was vacation afterall, so you figured it couldn't be the end of the world if things went to shit. You could just leave it all here, and never speak of it again.

But what if it was more? What if you wanted more?

You quickly snatched your phone, texting Gwen a much needed update before you managed to drag yourself out from under the sheets you did not remember putting yourself in, barrelling towards the washroom for a much needed shower, to wash away the icky wine feeling that gave a slight weight in your temples.

The hallway was quiet when you emerged from your room, nothing but the chirp of birds and the breeze swaying the palm tree leaves.

It was beautiful.

The realization that you had made it, you were really here hit you as you made your way down to breakfast, watching the sun rise fully, the sky tinged slightly with pinks and oranges before it gave away to a light blue.

You had made it, and you were free from work.

This was a reward, and a relief.

You had to appreciate the little things, and let yourself indulge just a bit this week. You finally had time to read all the fun fantasy books you had been stockpiling for school to be briefly over, which you could read by the pool and bathe in the sun.

There was nothing you had to do today. And that slightly scared you, but the feeling of relief was that much stronger.

1. Eat breakfast

2. Change into my bathing suit

3. See if Peter wants to hang out

4. Read my book by the pool

5. Possibly ingest a fruity cocktail…

Peter didn't join you for breakfast, the dining hall was rather empty as it was rather early considering everyone was here on vacation. But you enjoyed your food anyways, happy for the peaceful quiet, to get your thoughts in order as you nibbled on some fresh cut fruit.

And yet as you continued to eat, you wondered if it would have been nicer to have some company from someone.

Maybe even Peter himself. 

🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧  🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 

A day or so later, you made the bold decision to knock on Peter's door, and invite him for breakfast. Part of you wished you hadn't, because whenever you were around him, your body seemed to betray you.

You were in tune with it now.

You refused to ignore it any longer, as much as the deceptive part of your brain tried to tell you otherwise. Your breathing quickened, your heart rate sped up, your skin grew hot, not just from the warming sun. It was vulnerable, and you didn't like it one bit.

You prayed he didn't notice your longing glances when he wasn't looking, conversing with another, or merely distracted.

You wanted to study him, his mannerisms, the outlines of his muscles, the defining ridges of his cheekbones…

“Bunny? Your move.” his gentle voice broke you from your trance,leaving you blinking at him stupidly.

Fool. You were a damn fool of a Took.

Over the last two hours, he had tried to teach you the rules of chess. It wasn't something you always wanted to learn, and now that you had all the time in the world (and a master of chess to teach you), why not learn?

Because you can't even focus on the fucking rules, you just focus on his face which makes you look like a love stricken idiot.

You cleared your throat, fingers hovering over your side of the board as you tried to remember what each piece did.

“This is hopeless.” you sighed, placing your head in your hands. His laughter made your heart sing, a steady melody against the ocean lapping at the sand of the private beach.

He had managed to score you two a cabana, and how- you didn't know. All you knew was it was a perfect place to learn chess. And you were failing, miserably.

“It's okay bunny, it takes time. I didn't understand this for days.”

“It's been days!”

“It's been two hours.”

You sighed. “I should've stuck with my books. They're much nicer than this.”

“You can get back to your fictional boyfriends soon, I promise. I’ll even buy you an iced latte if you win.” his eyes sparkled with amusement, knowing that was one of your weaknesses.

“With-”

“With vanilla and oat milk. Promise.”

“Pinky? That's law.”

“Pinky.” he wove his pinky with yours, letting his hand fall and caressing your bare thigh gently.

“Remeber the knight is in a L-shape.” he noted, pointing to the piece you were caught hovering over. It was at least another hour of this, wanting to make a move, then pandering the million moves you could do, and what he’d do, and what moves even existed for each piece.

He had let you win, smiling as you cheered, hands thrown up in the air in celebration, a cheer loud enough to have the neighbouring cabana peer their head out in alarm.

He hadn't left your side as you read your book (minus grabbing your iced beverage), asking questions about the plot, the characters, what books you liked and wanted to read.

And on top of that, it seemed like he was genuinely interested.

It was becoming harder and harder to hate him. And you hated yourself for it. But it was near impossible to do so when his woodsy cologne engulfed your senses, his touch so soft and gentle, yet filled with teasing and determination as he’d draw shapes with his fingers on your thighs.

His presence was comforting, when once it made you annoyed. But you had never truly given him a chance, and all you had to blame was yourself, and your anxious, closed off tendencies. 

🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧  🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 

You had no idea why you had waited here, now, unlike so many other nights.

You believed yourself that you couldn't stand the thought of him, and yet- he had consumed every thought you had this vacation.

You couldn't deny yourself any longer.

The lingering glances you felt on your skin, that caressed your skin like a gentle breeze, despite one being present. The way the air seemed to suck out of your lungs when he passed by you, a gentle hand on your back as he passed by, even if it was to talk to another woman.

Christ you couldn't even think about that.

You had avoided the shared door between your room and his because you feared of hearing another woman in his room would make what you had been trying to hide from yourself come to light.

That you did get jealous. You were jealous at the airport, when the worker had eyed him up like fresh meat. When countless number of girls sunbathing had slipped their sunglasses down to catch a better look, or those who attempted to make small talk with him at the swim up bar, which he happily engaged in.

You didn't want to know if he had found women to warm his bed, even though you had zero claim over him.

And you hated that. You hated the fact you cared. You also hated the fact you had no claim over him.

You let the shoes that dangled in your hand clatter to the floor as you ran a hand over your face, letting yourself feel.

For once in your life, you were going to feel this, to let it swallow you whole and spit you out in its tidal wave. You were not going to shame yourself for how he made you feel, even though you hid it with annoyance and snarky comments

He could see right through you.

You knew he could.

He made you feel cared for and heard, even if you tried to change the topic or shut him down. He made you feel funny, and beautiful, and smart…

He made you feel wanted.

And that was why you wanted him.

Not only because you had two glasses of wine at dinner, and that he was extremely attractive. It was because you had buried this for so long, it had gone through all five stages of grief within the span of this trip.

You didn't want it to end without you and him knowing how you truly felt.

Maybe it was the gentle breeze that pushed you forward through the opened windows, or the hum of excitement in your chest that made you want to surge yourself on, you didn't know. You just knew you needed to see him, now.

You wanted to take up on his offer, no matter how much teasing had been in his tone when he suggested you come over through the door to visit whenever you wanted.

And you were going to let yourself have this.

You were tired of fighting it any longer, and you didn't know if you were thinking rationally. If you wanted it to stay in Mexico, it could.

But you didn't think you wanted it to.

Which is what drove you to rapt your knuckles three times on the wood, the sharp inhale you took so quick it made stars appear in your vision.

A muffled, “come in” allowed you to slowly turn the handle, easing yourself through the crack to peer into his room. It mirrored yours, but his sheets were ruffled, his body now turned towards you- but you  saw the book tossed half hazrdly on the bed.

His glasses slid down his nose slightly, he adjusted them, a small smile on his face as he took you in, still in your little dress from dinner.

“I’m sorry, were you reading?”

He nodded. “Come in bunny. I told you to come whenever, did I not?”

“Even when its reading time before bed, grandpa?” you giggled, making him roll his eyes, the veins in his arms gleaming in the soft bedside light as he crossed his arms.

You felt your breath hitch, your heartbeat start to kick up and hum like a war horse whenever you allowed yourself to enjoy him for too long. When you started to really feel the effect he had on you, individually- rather than just that overarching effect of fuzziness.

“You wound me.”

You slipped inside, shutting the door behind you as you plopped beside him in bed, falling back into the sheets with a huff.

”You look beautiful, bunny.”

You felt your skin heat, tingles erupting over you as your nipples tightened, thighs clamming together as his molten hot gaze swept over you, taking his sweet time.

He feasted with his eyes, voice low and throaty as if he had just woken from a dream. As if he were truly admiring you.

You realized then how crazy you looked, hair messy, makeup old and probably slightly smudged, your dress hugging you tightly, but probably revealing more skin then intended from the angle he was at as he looked down on you.

You bit your cheeks, eyes quickly moving away from his, before it became too much.

“Thank you. I figured you’d be out longer, with everyone else around the fires.”

He shrugged. “I like my down time. I could say the same about you.”

“Same here.” you said quietly, realizing you knew less about him then you thought.

For the amount of time you spent around him, you had made a lot of unfair assumptions. Like he would have different women in his bed every other night, or would be drinking until 4am everynight, as a frat boy would.

“Do you feel weird about that, sometimes?” he asked, reaching over, as if he were going to brush your cheek. He hesitated, hovering over your soft skin, eyes meeting yours to ask a silent question.

You nodded, and his finger came down to softly stroke your skin, twirling around a strand of your hair that had fallen out of place. “So many questions.” you teased, making him blush.

You liked making him blush. You liked it a lot.

But you also enjoyed how many questions he asked, because it meant he was genuinely interested in what you had to say.

“Sometimes I do, because I know we’re in school and the whole thing is that we should be ‘living it up’” you scoffed.

“But I’m at peace with myself and knowing what I like and what regulates me into the same as other people my age. I don't care about fitting in, I just… I guess I just like what I like.”

He nodded. “You’re being kind to yourself. That's good. For a minute I worried you laclked any kind bone in your body.” he teased, and you smacked him playfully.

“I’m trying to be.”

“Thats all you can do.”

You adjusted yourself, turning so you faced him on your side, as he adjusted himself to do the same. As if you were at a sleepover, trying to keep quiet so your mom wouldnt wake up and shush you both to sleep.

“That was a good answer, by the way. I’m the same way.”

“I am glad to hear that. I am also glad we share the same passion for Dorian Gray.” you smiled, taking note of the frayed, and very loved book that sat close to your head.

“But you didn't come here to discuss Dorans cruelty, did you?” he asked, tugging on the strand gently, before dropping it.

You wanted his touch back. You reached for his arm, your nail trailing his bicep as you drew little patterns, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“No.” you sighed. His eyebrow raised, expecting you to elaborate.

“Well?”

“You did say I was welcome in here at any time.”

“This is true. But why are you taking up on my offer now?” he murmured, capturing your hand with his, bringing your knuckles to his lips, his kiss feather light as you felt your breath catch.

“Am I not allowed to actually take you up on offers you give out?” you asked playfully, knowing he would extract the information out of you eventually.

You sighed. “I came to confess.”

“Your undying love for me?”

“Something like that.”

Your answer stopped him short. He wasnt expecting that.

“I like you Parker. Like, I like-like you.”

“You like-like me? What are we, in middle school?” he laughed, in a way you knew he wasn't teasing you, but was just surpised.

“I just-”

“I like-like you too, bunny. But I have to say, I’m surpised to hear it’s mutual, with all the snappy remrks that have been stabed into my chest.”

“I’m sorry.” you looked down, feeling bad for how your cruel remarks must have gotten under his skin over the years.

Yet, he still managed to look at you as a work of art, and take up the challenge of going head to head with your banters. “I have never once taken it personally. I know it's just your way of…expressing your feelings.”

“My feelings?!”

“You tease and taunt because you wish for nothing more than for me to put you in your place. Is that not it?” he asked, his fingers slipping back to cradle your chin, thumb teasing your lower lip.

If it weren't for the truth in that statement, you’d shame him for being so outrageously cocky.

“Bold of you to assume that.”

He smirked. “I know. But you’ve seen the way I’ve looked at you. I have to be bold with you, bunny. I’d lose all my senses if I told you how I’ve felt.”

He paused. “What do you see when I look at you?”

“Desire. Admiration.” you confessed.

It was how you wished he would look at you. You had projected that onto your shared moments of silence longing looks. He tilted his head, studying you as he always did in those moments.

“So you see, I have to be bold- to get you to see those moments. How I feel, how I’ve always felt. You are so beautiful, Y/N. So beautiful it hurts to not have you. To share those secret moments together, all the time, because if I am not bold, I do not get to continue our little exchanges. To hear your laugh, or those smart comments. Because I do not want to scare you away.” he confessed, and you felt your eyes start to well with salty tears.

You refused to cry, blinking your lashes rapidly, but his words were so tender it hurt.

“So yes, I want to put you in your place. I want you to do the same. I want the push and pull, and I only want it with you.”

You were stunned into silence. Yet another thing you underestimated, his way with words.

He gave you a second to catch yourself from free falling down the cliff of emotions, all of them churning in your stomach and making you warm.

Sensitive.

A heat settled between your thighs, pooling like honey.

His eyes searched for something in yours, a confirmation and a blessing. You nodded before your mouth could catch up to you, clearly your throat- words becoming stuck.

“Do you want the same?”

“Yes.” you said, so gently it came out as a throaty whisper.

There was no turning back now. But it wasn't the feeling of shame that coated you so thoroughly- it was want.

It was need.

His thumb captured your bottom lip again, the smell of his cologne intoxicating as he inched closer, eyes searching yours for permission.

You nodded, feverishly. “Please.”

A low groan left his throat at the word, his lips capturing yours delicately at first, then something rougher, passion driving you to lean into his body until it was flush with yours, rolling on top of his much larger frame to cage him.

“You never have to beg with me. Never.” he growled, sending jolts of energy as his hands began to wander, slipping from your hips to cup ass, drawing you flush against his hardened cock that fought against his shorts.

You moaned, his mouth swallowing the sound as his tongue begged for entrance, which you happily granted. You shifted down, needing the friction as his hand guided you, letting you take and give as you pleased.

It became hot and messy, teeth clashing as he bit down on your lower lip, hand coming up to grip your hair, tilting your head the way he wanted to taste you, truly.

Nothing but breathy moans and pants could be heard as you grinded against him,letting his lips wander down your neck, where he bit down on the skin, the sharpness of his bite making you jump.

“I think I’ve found the sensitive spot.” he murmured against your skin, licking the little mark left to soothe the skin.

“Don't tease.”

“Oh I wouldn't dare.” he smiled, planting kisses across your skin until you squirmed against him.

You needed more.

“You are my favourite form of torture.” he whispered as you bucked your hips, his hands sliding down your hips to slip under your sundress, fingers tickling the lace scrap that separated you from his delicate fingers.

“Torture?” you questioned, kissing him gently again.

“It has been torturous to not have you all this time, bunny. Like this. To have seen you in this dress…”

“But I’m here now.” you promised, kissing down his neck as he did to yours, with equal amounts of precision and care, not wanting to leave a single inch of skin untouched.

He groaned, his head sliding back to give you easier access, his adams apple bobbing as you left little marks across the skin.

This was the push and pull you both craved. The little moments of control to then be dominated by the other.

“And I thank every god in the universe for that.” he panted, fingers slipping across the folds of your underwear, slowly parting it to the side as he let a finger drag across your folds, collecting the wetness.

“Is this all for me?” he smiled as you moaned, hips bucking to lean more into his touch.

There goes the control.

“Yeah bunny? You’re such a greedy girl.” he tsked, slowly moving so you were underneath him, a yelp escaping you as he removed his fingers, pulling you like a rag doll so your hips were slightly off the bed.

Before you could wrap your head around what was happening he had tugged your panties off, his fingers resuming their motions as they glided along your slit, before two dipped in, curling that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

His hands were so much bigger than yours, he fit so nicely and stretched you just right…

“Please don't stop..” you panted, pushing up on your shoulders to watch as his thumb came up to rub little circles on your clit, making your lower half shake.

“What did I say about begging bunny? You never have to beg for me. You want my mouth?”

You nodded. “I wanna hear you say it sweetheart.”

“Yes.”

He smiled, pushing his glasses farther up his nose as he bent down, admiring you as if you were a five star meal. Pulling his fingers out, he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a mischievous glint in his eye, your lips parted in shock.

It was so dirty and crass it should've disgusted you but all it did was turn you on even more.

“You taste so fuckin sweet.” He came down, tasting you as if he were a man starved, lapping at you with no mercy, his tongue swirling and sucking on your nub.

Hard.

“F-fuck Peter r-right there-”

“So- fuckin-sweet” he panted with each flick of his tongue, his hand slipping up around your thigh to hold you in place as your hips wiggled, the pressure building so tightly in your core it felt like you were uncurling a hot wire.

“I can’t tell how long I’ve waited for this. How many nights I’ve thought about you like this, tasting how sweet you are.” he whispered, his words driving you over the edge.

You came with a cry, his name echoing on your lips as he held you in place, his tongue never stopping as he lapped at your juices, coaxing you through your orgasm.

“There we go, atta girl. Such a good girl for me bunny.”

You shivered, legs starting to shake as he emerged from his kneeling position, towering over you again. You wasted no time to sit yourself up, palming the bulge that was unhideable within his shorts.

He hissed through clenched teeth, head thrown back in pleasure as you touched him. The ridges of his abs were hard against your soft hands, fingernails scraping the happy trail that had tempted you for the last few days.

He was beautiful. So, so beautiful, and for the time being, he was yours.

“If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last bunny.”

“Good.”

He moaned, hand coming up to grab your hair again, tugging on it gently, your neck now angled up to loom into his hungry gaze.

“Do you want this? Truly? Because I don't think- I don't think with you I can control myself if you let me.  I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

His voice was as rough as granite, Adams apple bobbing with each swallow.

Trying to contain himself. That wouldn't do.

“I want you, Peter. I want you, however you’ll have me.”

That was the snap. His mouth captured yours again, and you tugged his undergarments off as quickly as one could manage with a handsome man on their lips, dominating them.

You found yourself with your back against the sheets, his arm caging you in as the other guided his cock to your entrance, your legs parted and mouth watering in anticipation.

“Can you take this off for me bunny? Show me everything?”

You nodded, letting him aid you in prying the dress over your head, tossed down somewhere on the tile floor. The way he looked you over sent your heart fluttering into overdrive, like prey knowing it was caught by the predator.

He looked at you with such a visceral hunger you knew deep in your soul there was nothing else, no one else he wanted.

“You are so fucking beautiful, my love.” he murmered, sliding the head of his cock between your folds, gathering the wetness that dripped for him.

My love.

“I’m yours.” you blurted out before your brain could let you think it over, before he slowly eased himself in, sending your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“And you're mine.” he whispered, caging you in completely, planting kisses and nips down the column of your throat, down to your breasts, his tongue swirling and sucking your nipple before moving to the next, giving them equal attention as he eased into you, before you were filled to the hilt.

The stretch was delicious, he consumed you in every way as he was fully seated inside you.

“Is this okay?” he asked gently, and you nodded.

“Words, bunny. Use them.”

“I’m- I’m good Peter.” you confirmed, the air whooshing out of your lungs as he slowly dragged himself half way out before slamming you full again, a loud cry of pleasure leaving your lips.

“I wanna see your pretty little face when you cum, bunny. Wanna hear those beautiful sounds again, they sound just how I thought they would. So, so damn pretty.” he purred, adjusting your legs around him as he found a steady rhythm, the sound of your cries and skin slapping echoing around the room.

His sweet coos and condensation drove you wild as you felt yourself reaching that finish point, before he removed himself fully, slamming into you again.

It drove you fucking wild.

You clenched around him in warning, his noises spurring you on as much as yours did to him.

It was bliss.

“We’ll have endless time for fun my bunny, all the ways I’m gonna have you. You make me so greedy.”

You moaned, gripping his biceps so hard your nails dug into his flesh, threatening to break skin.

“But right now I just wanna have you cum for me. Can you do that for me, my love? I’m right here with you.” he cooed, kissing you softly as you nodded frantically, not able to hold off your organism any longer.

“Peter I’m-”

“There we go my love, that's a good girl. Thats a good- fucking-girl.” he moaned as he spilled inside you, leaving you feeling all warm and fuzzy.

And as he cleaned you up, held you close to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, to trace each curve with a gentle touch and a kiss to follow, you realized you were past the point of saving yourself from Peter Parker.

You’ve seen all of your husband’s films, and they didn’t usually get to you too bad. It’s perfectly fine for him in your mind to have an on-screen relationship or even sex with another woman for a film because it's all scripted, but his latest was truly different. 

Andrew’s newest work – We Live in Time – obviously both broke and softened your heart and made you sob an uncontrollable amount. Despite the somber nature of the film, the rest of it was utterly heartwarming and just so domestic.

Not just the relationship and marriage aspect, but seeing him as a father. A girl dad, if anything. 

The sight of him and Florence playing with and carrying around their adorable on-screen daughter did things to both your head and your body. Ever since watching the film at it’s first screening, you couldn’t possibly get the thought out of your head:

Andrew giving you a child, helping you grow life; Andrew being the most wonderful father to the beautiful little boy or girl that you hypothetically birthed. 

The baby fever tugged at your mind for a bit, but died down in the months following the film’s release. You thought it was gone for good, but it crashed down on you ten times harder than originally at the simple sight of your husband playing with your friend’s little girl.

Your ovaries were practically screaming at you in seconds, your body begging you to let him put a child in you. Nothing sounded better to you right now than being all pregnant and swollen because you knew you’d be carrying his child. 

Getting home from your friends, after seeing him be so gentle and caring with your friend’s child, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. The two of you showered and got cozy for bed, and of course Andrew noticed the lingering sense of distraction or thought on your face.

“You okay?” He checked, taking off his Omega watch and setting it on the nightstand while sat on the edge of your bed, giving you a borderline concerned look.

“Mm-hm.” You nodded simply, turned over away from him on your side. The scent of his fresh cedar shampoo and that amber cologne he sprayed on after the shower filled the air, helping you sense him just as he began to slide into bed and cuddle up behind you.

A pair of strong, familiar arms slid around your waist from behind, his scruffy chin coming to rest on your exposed shoulder with a quiet sigh. 

“I know you too well, baby. You can’t fool me tonight,” He whispered and peppered a few gentle kisses to the cold skin in an attempt to get you opened up, his slender fingers moving under your tank top and tracing the skin of your stomach ever so gently. “You’re all distracted since we got there earlier.”

He was too engrossed in the scent of your hair and cold, soft skin to see what exactly it is you’re distracted by now.

It isn’t until he notices your phone screen that he realizes what your mind is so preoccupied with. He was about to speak and ask again but the second his mouth opened, he heard the quiet giggling of an adorable baby coming from your phone.

The open-mouthed expression crossing his face instantly morphs into an amused grin when he puts it together and sees what’s going on. He buries his face deeper into your neck, chuckling softly and mumbling just under your ear. 

“Sweetheart.” He starts, trying not to laugh. This isn’t the first time this has happened – he’s dealt with your extreme swings of baby fever from time to time – just not anytime recently. “What’s that? You lookin’ at baby videos again or just happen to be shopping for onesies?”

His comment earned a quiet snicker from you, getting all giggly and shy when he points it out and finally notices. You scroll to the next video, acting like nothing’s up, as if your entire feed isn’t strictly baby after baby.

“Just scrolling. It’s nothing.” You cheese to yourself, reaching down to take his hand off your stomach. You lift it up to your mouth, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles for that usual bedtime comfort. 

Andrew does nothing but sit there and laugh, letting you take his fingers and do whatever it is you want with them. 

“Uh huh. Just scrolling, I’m sure. Just a coincidence, then?” He sneers into your hair, inhaling deeply to get as much of your beautiful scent as he can. Even if his nostrils seem to have built up a resistance against it from smelling it so often. 

The baby videos catch his eye as well, he just can’t help it. Anyone would get a little soft upon seeing a video of the most adorable baby girl giggling away in a onesie. Plus, it’s crossed his mind recently, and he doesn’t entirely hate the idea of thinking about a baby soon.

You simply nod and keep quiet, immersed in the little world in your head where the cute baby on the screen is yours, and you and Andrew are taking perfect care of it. 

“Come on, I can practically hear the cogs in your mind turning. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” He lightly grazes his cold nose against your ear, a shiver shooting down your spine at the proximity of his voice into your ear.

In a moment of hesitation, your body flips over to face him, the two of you becoming a tangled mess of limbs in no time. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist, resting on the warm skin of your lower back to tug you closer while he murmurs sweetly against your forehead.

“Looks like your baby fever is back, sweetheart. Written all over your face.”

He’s right on point with that, but you’re not ready to admit it just yet. The idea of having a baby with him is so highly anticipated in your mind but the conversation leading up to that decision wasn’t as simple.

“...Yeah.” You reluctantly agree, voice a soft whisper against his neck while his chin comes to rest on top of your head. 

You’re almost overwhelmed by the upcoming conversation but the feeling of one hand stroking down the back of your hair and the other tugging on your thigh to hike your leg up over his body soothed those nerves. Nothing ever has to be that serious with Andrew, he’s always able to calm you down and make even the most serious of discussions so tender.

“Yeah? Is this just, like, a quick baby fever phase, or something you’ve actually been considering? You’ve gotta talk to me, y’know.” He tried to be as gentle as possible to coax the not-so-easy answers out of you and figure out what you’re thinking.

You sigh and give him a soft smile, feigning annoyance and rolling your eyes at the question. But the mock annoyance doesn’t last long, as your head buries right up into his neck to inhale his intoxicating scent and try to calm down.

“I don’t know. I’m ovulating, I can’t believe anything my mind is trying to tell me about a baby.” You chuckle quietly, your nose ghosting against his jaw ever so softly. “I kind of… maybe want one.”

He sighs back, scratching gently at the base of your neck with his long fingers. “If it’s any help, I think you’ll be a great mom. The world needs more of your genes, too.”

The soft words and the tiny kisses you feel beginning to press against your hair send you in a complete 180. The hesitance was gone at the slightest touch of his fingers – possibly because of that previously mentioned ovulation – but also from the overwhelming urge to let him just fill you up and get you so pregnant.

“Yeah? You’d be the greatest daddy. It was all I could think about earlier when I saw you with those kids today.” You admit in a rushed whisper, letting go of all the shame and worries you had regarding the idea of a baby. “Seeing you with a little girl made me want you to fill me up so badly.” 

Andrew thought there would be a bit more of a serious discussion before this, but you seem to be jumping right into the fun part. The way your quiet voice and fresh breath ghosts over his throat causes a quiet groan to choke up in his throat, freezing him in place so he has to take a moment to collect himself.

“Hm. Can’t say I hate anything related to burying myself inside of you. Especially if it means not using any prophylactics.” He responds in equal fervor, the tiniest concern still bugging him so he just has to ask. 

“You sure, though, sweetheart? This is a huge decision to be making, we haven’t even talked.” He asks, voice getting quieter and shakier while you’re already tugging at his t-shirt. “Baby…”

His shirt is off in seconds and you’re on top of him before he even has a chance to breathe, your lips making heated contact with the skin on his collarbone. Absolutely no time is wasted before your own tiny tank top is off at the hands of Andrew, exposing your soft skin. Your nipples harden under his touch and the brisk air of the bedroom, earning a groan from the man underneath you.

“We can figure it out tomorrow morning if we regret it, I don’t care.” You gasp and try to inch closer, lips landing wherever they can while his hands work earnestly over the skin on your pretty breasts. “Want a baby in me. Just.. at least need to feel you finish. I’m craving it so bad, Andy.”

The previous gentle whispers and grazes are replaced with gasps and firm grasps at each other’s skin and clothing, getting everything off without a second thought. It’s like something possessed the two of you, the baby fever turning you into captivated messes for each other.

“I can do that.” Andrew chortled, pulling the sweatpants from your hips to leave you in the pretty pair of black panties that he loved so much on you. 

The weight of the shared decision hung in the air. Not necessarily heavy, but more grounding, like a reminder of the extraordinary journey you chose to step into with him. 

Once his boxers were off and discarded without a care across the room, your lips met in a fervent, sloppy kiss. In only a moment your tongue was stuck deep into his mouth, not just kissing him but sucking on his tongue in the lewdest, most vulgar possible way.

The eager and sincere sucking got a groan out from deep in his throat, pulling you back into the reality of the moment. Your tongue left his, moving to trail down his neck carefully while your hand moved down to pull your panties off. You couldn’t even handle having them on for another moment.

Andrew sighed at the feeling of your wet cunt rested on his stomach, his hazy eyes opening to take a nice gaze down at your body while you straddled his waist. The simple sight of the wet patch forming on his lower belly from how you were already dripping made him need you now.

Normally, he’d think to ask if you were okay first, check on you a million times to make sure you felt good, and take his time to let you adjust. But tonight something primal overtook both of you, not wasting any time at all. 

“Please. Need your cock. Inside. Now.” You gasped against his neck when his thumb came in contact with your aching clit, bucking against his hand like the needy mess you were. 

“So needy for me. Can you say that again for me, baby?” He groaned, grabbing your hips with no effort to be careful, lifting you up and sitting you on top of his already throbbing cock. Precum dripped out from the tip but was gone soon enough at a simple swipe of your finger along the tip.

You sat on top of his cock, but the absence of it actually inside of you made you whine.

“Andrew. M’not joking, please.” You whined again in utter desperation for the feeling of his warm length to fill you so right and stretch you out, but his hands kept you in place for the moment. He kept quiet, biting his lip in focus while he took his cock and gently brushed it against your slick.

Feeble moans slipped from both of your mouths at the slight contact on just the tip against you, making you need more. More, more, more. Andrew did love to tease you, but he knew now wasn’t the time to mess around and rub against you like that. You’d pounce any moment now to get him to put it inside.

You knew it was finally time when his hands moved from the sides of your waist and down to give your hips a loving tap. You know what that means: to lift up. He only suspended you for a moment before absolutely slamming you back down onto him, your hips meeting and his cock being buried inside you without warning or giving you any time to adjust. 

“Andr-” You started to groan in slight pain from the initial contact, but the feeling was replaced in seconds with the overwhelming pleasure he took his time to give you. His hips pushed up to meet yours passionately and desperately, squeezing you so hard and pushing you down to get the perfect angle in the depths of your pussy.

“Shh, baby. Giving you what you asked for. Just-” His voice was huskier than normal during sex. He’s normally so gentle and slow with you, but the visceral need to fill you up with a baby right now couldn’t handle that slow of a speed. He just wanted to cum as quickly as possible. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah? Let me make myself a daddy.”

You didn’t protest one bit, shutting up at his command and sitting back while he guided your body down onto his, pushing harder than he maybe ever has during sex. Initially, you thought the erotic words spilling from his mouth would be the hottest thing of the night. But his mouth made contact with your right breast, swaying that opinion with no room for argument.

“Oh, Andy.” You whimpered, body arching and writhing every way to try to feel his pulsing cock as deep as humanly possible inside your wet cunt. His mouth sucked at your tit, teeth gently grazing the nipple and feeling it harden under his attention.

“Can’t wait to see these full of milk.” He mewled, letting his mouth come off of the right breast with a loud pop, switching to the other side. 

You never really thought of it that way, but the idea of pregnancy with Andrew was unbelievably hot. Normally it didn’t sound like such a sexy thing – swollen feet, morning sickness – but he made everything better. The thoughts of morning sex while he held and caressed your big belly, taking perfect care of you and the upcoming baby, were overpowering and all you could manage to focus on in the same moment he was balls deep inside of you.

Andrew, again, wasn’t being a gentleman. He’s fucking you dumb at this point, getting as deep as possible and hitting your favorite spot with each rough stroke. Whimpers spilled from your throat uncontrollably while the only noises heard from Andrew were the muffled groans against the skin of your tits in his mouth.

Just like he was rooting for, he felt the familiar stirring and tensing up in his gut.

“Baby, baby. Mmph- m’gonna cum soon.” He groaned and gave up on your breasts because he could hardly focus, wrapping his arms entirely around your body so you could be chest to chest during the last moments. “You sure about this? I can finish in you, right?”

You didn’t even allow yourself to listen to or process his words, nodding mindlessly like you were entirely drunk on pure lust. But he didn’t complain, obviously – it made his job a lot easier.

“Love you. Gonna- oh. Gonna make you the prettiest mommy, give you the most beautiful baby.” Groans escaped from his throat uncontrollably, his heading falling limply back while his hands squeezed at your hands with no remorse. There’ll for sure be some bruising tomorrow. 

As much as you wanted to, to make the moment more special, you couldn’t get out a single word. He’s got you completely numb and dumb in his arms while you look pretty and take him deep.

“There. Right there.” He growled into your ear, the most genuine of moans you’ve ever heard from him accompanying the filthy words while his release filled you up entirely and coated the inside of your pussy.

He rode it out slowly but pulled out to not overstimulate you, only now realizing how carried away he got that he didn’t bother checking on you or anything. It took a few moments for both of you to even catch your breath enough to breathe but he went right back to classic Andrew once he could speak. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Are you okay? I didn’t go too rough, did I?” He began worrying far too quickly, knocking you out of that gorgeous aftershock of the sex and making you snort. The moment was ruined, to an extent, but in an arguably beautiful way. 

“No, baby.” You whisper and fall down limp against him, head finding the familiar spot in his now sweaty neck to catch a break after the intense sex that you certainly are in no way used to. It wasn’t his typical well mannered self, but there was absolutely no issue in that – it may have been the hottest sex you’ve ever shared. “Okay, maybe a little. But it was fantastic.”

Both of you managed to calm down after a bit, the realization of what you’ve done finally hitting you in the afterglow.

The second was that she had to at least know somebody at these parties to keep showing up and when Peter found out who it was he was gonna have to give them a ear full for leaving her on her own. Which is how Peter found himself in the position he’s currently in. 

“What are you drinking?”

The girl on the wall looks up to him, her eyes wide and in shock. He could practically hear the words and thoughts whooshing through her head. She was clearly stumbling over her thoughts as he spoke, patiently, he stared at her with a smile.

“Uh..sprite.” 

“You came to a frat party and you're drinking sprite?”

He teased with good intentions, knowing his own cup was filled with water. 

“Well..I-”

“I’m not judging, just want to know if i can get you a refill. I’m Peter by the way”

Her eyes switched from him back to her half empty cup. She nodded her head eagerly, mumbling out her own name as she followed him. Seemingly shocked when he reached his hand back to walk her through the crowd. Peter walked her over to the beverage table, practically standing on top of her guarding her from the crowd as he poured her more soda. 

“Do you wanna get away from the crowd? My room is right up the stairs.” Peter says quietly, his hand on the small of her back. 

She blew nervous air out of her nose, her hand resting on his forearm. “Oh I..I don’t- know.” 

“No or know?” He asked his hand pulling back slightly. 

“I don’t know?” 

Peter smiled at her reassuringly, wanting to ease whatever nerves she was feeling. “That’s fine? Outside then?” 

“Yeah..yeah- sure.” 

Peter knew he was doomed the second you walked into the library like that — short skirt, tight little top, all casual like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you were just… you. Effortless and pretty and absolutely lethal to every last brain cell he had.

He was supposed to be tutoring you. Explaining equations. Helping you pass midterms.

Instead, he could barely string two thoughts together with the way you leaned in, your hand brushing his, your chest practically spilling out of your shirt every time you shifted to look at the notes.

He tried to look at the paper. He really, really did. But his eyes kept betraying him, sliding down, lingering way too long. His palms were sweating. His throat was dry. God, you were right there, smelling like vanilla and sunshine, smiling that slow, wicked smile that made his jeans way too uncomfortable.

He swallowed hard. Focus. Math. Not… whatever his brain was trying to do instead.

You tilted your head, looking at him with those wide, curious eyes like he was the only person in the world who could explain this to you. You didn’t even notice the way your skirt rode up when you shifted in your seat, and Peter, poor Peter, almost choked on nothing.

“Uh—so, um, you just factor it like this,” he stammered, forcing his eyes back to the notebook. He scribbled something half-coherent, praying you didn’t notice how red his face was. You scooted closer, reading over his shoulder, and your perfume — light, sweet, dizzying — hit him all at once.

If you leaned over him one more time like that, he was going to lose whatever shred of sanity he had left.

You’re putting away your shared laundry when you hear a loud noise on your window sill. You don’t even flinch this far into your relationship and only shake your head, separating your clothes from his. The window opens letting in a cool breeze and Peter’s book bag hits the ground before he gets inside. 

It's only then you look and give his body, clad in his suit, a scan and smile. “You okay?” You ask. The sun already set and the crisp winter air started to fill the room. 

He scoffs before shutting the window. You turn your body around from the basket in front of you to see Peter shaking his head while taking his camera out of his bag.

The professional camera Peter spent a year saving up for when he was 18 was sat next to your much less efficient Polaroid camera. On it, there was a photo of you two celebrating your anniversary together recently. The flash showing you kissing Peter on the cheek, he’s blushing at the attention and eyes closed from the flash. 

Peter smiled at the memory before he continued speaking. 

“Why do people think it’s okay to commit crime when I’m just getting off my shift?” He sighed before setting down his bag next to your bed.

“They’re so inconsiderate,” You pout playfully while folding his clothes into his reserved drawer at your place.

Peter looks up from unpacking and focuses on your ass poking up from your position. You feel his eyes on you as your t-shirt hangs loosely on your body, and the hair on your legs prick up from the cold in the room.

Peter takes off his mask revealing his disheveled hair and takes in the sight of you like it’s his last.

Your lacy underwear decorating the plump flesh of your butt, reminding Peter of how quickly he had to leave this morning before getting to appreciate for bandaging him up last night.

His eyes continued to scan up, seeing the old t-shirt frame your shape, admiring it as if he had x-ray vision.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Peter is brought out of his thoughts hearing your soft voice, taunting him for his staring problem.

“Don’t tempt me,” Peter quips back. He shakes his head before tossing his mask in your empty hamper. Sitting on your bed and bending over to remove his boots, his ears don’t miss your footsteps as you saunter to him.

You place your feet in between his while he looks back up to you, removing the rest of his suit. 

“It’s never stopped you before,” You cross your arms while he slips out of his suit, leaving his web shooters on. The suit is strewn across the floor and your eyes focus on Peter’s body. 

No matter how beat up he was, Peter remains to be the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You ran your hands over his, now, yellow ribs. Compared to the purple constellation he had yesterday, you were grateful for his superhuman healing. 

He had a nasty fall yesterday, left with some scars and bruising, but thankfully this time you didn’t have to stitch him up. 

You even notice the scratch on his arm is almost gone but Peter liked wearing your special bandaids. He likes giving you a reason to buy more cartoon ones for him. 

Peter watches your eyes carefully scan his body for anything else and adores you for it. Still, he hates making you worry.

“You weren’t naked before.”

A smile creeps up on your face, a giggle disguised as a scoff when you answer: “I’m not naked.”

You don’t realize you set yourself up for Peter’s response until he smirks. His hands snake up underneath your shirt to toy with your nipples, already hard because of the cold air lingering in the room. 

A hiss escapes your mouth at feeling his larger, colder hands grip your boobs. Peter slightly grins at his effect on you. He pulls at the bottom of your shirt before raising it up your body. You oblige, pulling it over your head to toss it across your room.

His face lit up at your frontal nudity, hands placed on either side of your hips tugging at your underwear. 

“Let’s change that.” 

You roll your eyes at his response, but not without a smile plastered on your face. You could feel the heat pooling in between your thighs and the excitement in your stomach. 

“What position should I be in?” You shudder under his callus fingers. Peter lightly furrows his eyebrows when you turn, gesturing to your polaroid camera from your bedside table. 

His face relaxes when he registers what you guys are doing, not realizing how serious you were being. 

Your eyes flicker up and down his body when you turn to face him, noticing his erection bulging out of his briefs. Leaning down you use your hand to palm him through the fabric, feeling his cock pulsate in your hand.

“On your knees,” You whip your head up when Peter says that, his hands still roaming around your body. 

You quirk your eyebrow up in response. Pressing your forehead and nose to his, you plant a kiss onto his lips. Your hands are now on either of his thighs, sinking lower onto the ground as the kiss deepens. 

Before you can fully get down, you hear a light thwip and break the kiss. 

You see Peter’s wrist is flicked out with his web shooters activated, latched on to your polaroid camera. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes before he pulls it into his hands.

Resting on your knees, you’re before him with your fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers. You carefully watch for his reactions, but he’s refamiliarizing himself with your flimsy camera you got in your teenage years as a novelty.

You cross your arms on his legs and look up at him, the camera points at you and all you can focus on is his wide smile behind the camera. “Let’s see if I still know how this works,” Peter jokes.  

You repose with both your hands on your knees, pushing your breasts out in between your arms. You didn’t realize they were hardly the focus of the photo (but still included, Peter was only human after all). 

The photo snaps and you remember you have to get used to the flash again. Blinking a few times to get used to the discomfort, the photo prints out and Peter seems pleased with himself already. 

“It hasn’t even developed yet,” You taunt, you resume palming him as you assume that was the extent of his practice shots. 

Peter shrugs while shaking the photo as gently as possible. “Hey, who’s the photographer here? I know a good subject when I see it,” He nudges you. 

When the photo barely develops, he shows you and you see yourself: half naked on your knees with your face fully in the photo. You were surprised he included that much of your face, and managed to catch you looking as confident as you could. But it was easy when Peter was behind the camera, he never fails to make you feel like his only muse. 

You blush and look away from the photo as you continue to massage him. Peter’s breath hitches at the rate at which you go at, and you smirk to yourself. 

No matter how much control Peter took in bed, he wasn’t afraid to show you how quickly he’d fold for you. It was one of the many things you appreciated about him. Another one was just how vocal he was, his whimpers before you even got to touch him were making your underwear dampen. 

When his dick starts twitching, you pull his boxers down, his cock slaps up to his stomach while he watches your movements. Locking eyes with him, you wrap both your hands around his shaft before slowly jacking him off. 

You’re mesmerized by the way his body is flexed under your touch, you almost don’t hear what he says. 

“Your mouth,” He breathes out. 

You sit up higher on your knees and kiss up his happy trail, lingering when you get closer to his cock. You hear his groan and look up, meeting his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows. “My mouth, what?” 

Your lips quirk up again, teasing him. “Use your words.” 

He rolls his eyes in response but you shake your head.  “I can stop,” You remind him. 

His brown eyes almost bulge out his head when you say that, wrapping his own hand over yours to stop your movements from pausing. He leans over to get closer to your face, the scent of you surrounding him. Peter’s face softens at your smugness. 

“Baby,” He starts. You wait to listen to how he pleads for you to stay while he leads your hands.  

“I need that pretty mouth of yours to suck my cock,” He gasps out and removes his hand when you loosen your wrist in response. Your eyes soften at the praise and Peter mentally celebrates when he leans back to his original position. 

You reposition yourself as well, with your neck getting to work as you lick a stripe underneath the shaft of his cock. Peter sharply inhales at the feeling and brings his head back up. 

You lock eyes with him when you feel the jolt in his body and open your mouth in an ‘O’ shape around the head of his cock. 

Relaxing your throat, you lower your head on his length and feel the tip of his cock hitting your uvula before you begin bobbing your head. 

Caught off guard, you could taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue now. You gagged a bit and popped off him to lick it off in the most obscene way you could think of. 

Peter mutters, “Just like that.” and you look up. 

Forgetting he had a camera, the shutter went off to capture your tongue on the underside of his wet tip. 

You collect more saliva in your mouth while you run your hand up and down his shaft. Feeling prepared enough, you go back down on him with the drool dripping on his cock on your hands. 

Peter went crazy at the heat of your mouth and the sight of your lips around him. The only thought he had was to get the camera out again to keep this moment forever.

Getting slack jawed at this, he tangles his hands in your hair but doesn’t change your pace. He only starts pushing it out of your face as it gets in the way. 

You look up at him and see Peter pointing the camera at you as you have half his cock in your mouth. The first shot is taken, and he tries to not move too much as the photo prints out immediately.  He releases a few breathy moans at the pace you're going at while he places the new photo on the side. 

Peter silently gestures to you to get him out your mouth so you release him with a pop, flipping your hair to the side as you continue to jack him off.

“That’s good,” He mutters, when he places the camera at his eye before snapping a new photo. 

“I probably look insane,” You grumble, already feeling self conscious at how messy your hair looks, coupled alongside the drool and precum at your mouth. 

Peter shakes his head and pulls you in closer by your waist and you yelp, finding yourself now pinned under him on the bed. 

“Never,” He shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your tit as he pulls your underwear off. You immediately moan at his aggression on your sensitive nipples and he chuckles against your skin when he feels you flinch. 

Peter’s calloused hands find your clit and start massaging it, and you throw your head back in pleasure when he finds his rhythm. 

You feel a twinge of disappointment when he removes his mouth from your tits but you look up to see the camera watching you, and a shutter going off before you are even ready.

“Pete,” You warn. Your sternness doesn’t last when he slips in a finger in your embarrassingly wet cunt. You almost mewl at how full he makes you with just one finger. 

“You looked so pretty moaning like that,” Peter explains while his finger curls into you. He knew what he was doing when he smiled again, leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

Your annoyance was no match for his desperation as you eventually gave in. One of his hands cupped your cheek while his lips were frantic on yours. He’s greedy for you, almost lapping up your tongue with his own before he pulls away. 

“Just let go, forget the camera is even there,” He mumbles in your neck when you gasp at the absence of his lips. 

He slips in another finger and thrusts faster, making you nod mindlessly as you surrender all control.You grip onto his bicep as he pumps in and out of you, begging him for more friction. You can hear how wet you were, and while you were embarrassed, Peter relished in it. 

“Can you take a third for me baby?” He asks in a low voice as he sits up on the bed in between your legs. You nod vigorously but he quickly removes both fingers.

You open your mouth to complain but instead yelp out when Peter pulls both your legs closer to his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He set aside the camera briefly. 

“Yeah?” He searches for an answer.

“Yes,” You grunt out, already desperate for much more than his fingers. 

He massages your heat with his fingers again before he inserts three fingers in, jolting your body to sit up. You let out an obscene moan and couldn’t help but to massage your clit while he fucks you with his fingers. 

One hand being in competition with Peter’s while the other massages your boobs, you’re almost too dazed to notice the shutter then went off while you were closer to an orgasm.

“Fucking incredible,” Peter breathes out before putting the camera with the new photo down, and leans down to kiss you. His pace never falters, making you whimper against his lips. 

“I’m about to cum,” You announce shakily. Peter swallows your pleas with a kiss and just curls his fingers against your g-spot faster. You feel that familiar build up in the pit of your stomach and the pace of your clenching pick up. 

“Cum all over my fingers baby,” He answers, and you immediately let go. You hold Peter closer as you cum, heaving underneath him like you’re in heat. Your body Peter continues to finger you but only because he loves the way you suction around him. 

He still lets you come down from your high, kissing you through it and massaging your breasts with his free hand during. When your breathing slows down, he sits back up and removes his fingers from you. 

“Need you inside of me,” You remind him as you reach over to palm his already hard cock against his stomach.

“Gonna let me cum inside of you?” He asks, holding his cock in his hand already glistening with your wetness. He readjusts to line himself up to your pussy awaiting your answer.

You cock your head with your arms supporting your body from the bed. “I’ll let you cum wherever you want,” You say. 

Peter grunts at your answer before inserting himself into your entrance, and immediately throws his head back at the feeling, your warmth and wetness engulfing him. 

“So fucking tight,” He comments, and you silently agree as you feel yourself stretching out on him. Your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched around him. 

“Fuck,” you moan out as he finds a comfortable pace for the both of you. 

Or that’s what you thought. 

You hear a shutter from your camera and realize he took a picture (or two) of you in this position beneath him, moaning out for him flat on the bed with his cock inside of you. 

You didn’t have time to care as when he got his shots he immediately started to rock into you, and you felt the strength of him against your thighs before he picked up the pace. 

You watch him thrust into you and slowly lose himself above you.

“I love the way you feel around me,” He pants out, closing in on your body with his forearms framing your face. You nod as the bed squeaks and your hands roam his body, stopping at his shoulders and the nape of his neck. 

Peter obliges to your physical demands and dips down to suck on your neck, causing you to whimper as your body continues to jolt from his thrusts. His soft brown hair tickles your skin as his teeth chew at the sensitive skin in your neck. You don’t know whether to giggle or moan, but you’re vocal regardless. 

“Go faster,” You whine, becoming impatient with him. 

“I’m not gonna last if I go faster,” He growls against your skin, sending vibrations down your spine. He thrusted slower, bringing his hand down to the back of your knee to bend it closer to your body. You felt him hitting your g-spot repeatedly that you knew you weren’t going to last any longer like that. 

“I don’t care,” You cry out. Peter scoffs in your neck as if to say a begrudging ‘Fine.’ and kisses you on the cheek before kneeling back up. He’s already twitching inside you before he begins thrusting again. You almost forget what you got yourself into until you feel his balls slap against your cunt repeatedly. 

A string of curses escape both your mouths, yours because he’s just so big and you can feel the tension build up in your stomach again. Peter’s cusses are because you just won’t stop clenching around him in response, he feels like he might burst the next time you tighten around him. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” He mutters before spilling into you. 

You go slack jawed at the feeling of him cumming inside of you. It feels hot between your thighs, in between the burning feeling of his hard thighs slapping against your softer ones, and feeling him twitch and coat your insides and the outside of your cunt with his load. 

You cry out as he almost slips out of you, but realize he’s gonna take another picture. You’re not sure what to do, or what exactly he’s capturing but you decide to listen to his earlier advice and let it happen. Peter places the camera on his eye while his cock almost goes soft half away inside of you, and you can feel him rubbing his cum around your thighs and up your hips. 

He mutters another curse, before snapping the picture. You close your eyes and your legs when you decide that that was the last photo and miss how Peter compiles all of them on your bedside table. 

Eventually, you look up and see him pulling back up his underwear and beckoning you to see the photos. When you get up and see 6 photos lined up from tonight. 

One of you on your knees, your breasts protruding and almost being the main focus of the photo if it wasn't for your face. You want to laugh at how excited your eyes looked but you know it was only because of who was behind the camera. 

Two more during and after the blowjob, one of you in the middle taking Peter in your mouth and giving the camera (but really, Peter) siren eyes. The other was you slightly disheveled, but Peter swore you were the prettiest girl in the world with drool around your mouth.

A third of you being fingered, your head is thrown back in unfiltered pleasure from his fingers, your breasts sitting high on your chest as you’re on your back and your nipples were glistening in the photo due to the suckling that happened off camera. While scanning this photo, you realize that being caught in the moment wasn’t such a bad thing and Peter is silently celebrating he caught your O face in action. 

The fourth was similar but you had more control over your pleasure as you’re on camera massaging your breasts and hand on your pussy. You feel like a vixen with the way you’re fondling yourself, Peter silently agrees as he knows you look like one. 

Fifth and sixth photo show the before and after of Peter fucking you senseless. Fifth with your body being still underneath his, and the photo displaying that exhilarating feeling you both get when your bodies meet in the first thrust. And the sixth photo when you’re both comfortable enough to come down from your high together. The sticky, white cum is slayed over your sopping, wet pussy and Peter’s fingers and cock in the frame to remind you who fucks you like this. 

“Do you like these? I can burn them away if you don’t,” Peter runs his hands through his hair nervously, not trying to make you uncomfortable if the bit had gone too far. 

You only shake your head with a laugh bubbling in your throat at his consideration and hug his much taller frame from behind. It felt good to rest your head on his back, while his arms engulf yours from the front. 

“I love them, I love you,” You speak low but loudly enough so he can hear, and feel, your words. 

“Which ones do you want to keep?” He asks. 

You know it’s out of courtesy, just one of those things you two got used to asking each other after taking pictures on this camera. You kept the silly anniversary photo while he kept the very nice one he took of you. 

“It’s all for you,” You answer. Peter sputters quickly, turning back around to see your face when you say it, you only nod in full seriousness. 

He leans down to kiss your cheek as a thank you and you only smile back. 

“I think you’d get more use out of it than me,” You add with a tinge of humor. Peter only plays it off with another suggestion while hugging you from the front. His arms wrap around your shoulders while you rest your head in the crook of his neck. 

“You know what though?” He asks, trailing his hands down to your naked hips, stopping to cup the round of your ass. 

“What?” You mutter in his hold, already feeling your body heat up at the thought of round 2. 

Peter smirks before snaking one of his hands to your pussy. Knowing that you’re about to start throbbing, at the thought of him. You gasp before he speaks and he chuckles while he proposes his new idea.