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scorpiomother · 2 years ago

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APOCALYPSE (pt. three)

･ﾟ★ . remember that you are dust and to dust, you shall return

summary: there’s no way you can put a label on what you and peter are. friends with benefits aren’t even the proper term. he pisses you off but reels you back in every time...

word count: 10.1k (holy hell)

warnings: explicit content. minors dni (+18) seggsy times w/ dom! peter on x games mode, but nothing too crazy i think ;p

playlist 𓆩♡𓆪 mood board 𓆩♡𓆪 read on ao3 𓆩♡𓆪 series mlist 𓆩♡𓆪 masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 kofi

← chapter two

ACQUAINTED

You were self-destructive. That’s what you had decided the second time you let Peter into your apartment. The third and fourth times, you decided that this was so very feminist and empowering of you. You were the modern woman! Casual sex was so easy.

It’s been two weeks since your first date with Peter and the nights eventually blended together and you lost count of the times he came over. You couldn’t help it when your social life amounted to nothing, and Peter was not one to deny sex.

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was ruining everything for you. So technically, you were self-destructive and feminist all at the same time. (Also, very modern woman of you).

The ghost of him lingered. There were bags of coffee in your pantry for him to drink after fucking you. (You assumed it was so that he would have enough energy to make his way back to Queens and avoid sleeping over at all costs). His records started to mix in with your own collection. (His forgetful dumb ass never remembering to take them with him). Your own bed sheets were stained with the smell of him. (A mix of his evergreen shampoo and your own body wash that he would use). It’s like he was deliberately making you addicted to him. He simply ruined the comfort of your own home.

Not to mention, it was nearly impossible for you to focus on work anymore. Harry often found you with a blank stare and you had a hard time keeping up with the endless amount of emails and paperwork. You were either daydreaming about having sensual sex with him or if he liked you the way that you liked him (which you easily doubted).

You have never been so mentally absent in your life. It was like Peter took that sane part of you with him. That bastard.

Today was no different. The work day went by slowly and for a long while, Peter’s veined hands on your hips were the topic of interest in your mind. It was an early symptom of your impeding love sick disease. Not that you were in love with Peter or anything.

It always began like that. A superficial, sometimes aroused, thought. And then it would snowball into something more skin-deep.

You were filing paperwork, something you would normally push to the side, but with your wandering mind, you needed to do something that required less amount of thinking so that you could think about more important things. Like self-reflection and relationships. Like how the fuck did you let this happen. This being your somewhat of a relationship with Peter.

After that rainy afternoon to evening sex, you thought you would never see Peter again, and eventually, at two in the morning, you convinced yourself that you liked it that way before falling asleep. Two perfect orgasms in one night by handsome and mysterious Peter Parker? Who cared if you didn’t click? You definitely clicked in your apartment. And that’s a big win!

Peter Parker was nothing and you were going to move about your weekend like he wasn’t life-altering or anything! It was a one-night stand and people had one-night stands all of the time.

What was crazy and possibly unfortunate, was that Peter was at your front door the next morning. It was too early for you to be awake, your Sunday’s normally not starting until the afternoon. You hadn’t expected anyone at your door, let alone Peter. If you knew it was Peter, you would’ve fixed your hair a bit better.

When you opened the door, your breath immediately hitched at the sight of your unannounced guest.

Peter was donned in casual wear with the same backpack from the day before hanging on his shoulder, now dry. While you were adoring him in his gray sweatpants, you could feel his gaze on your body. Your pajamas, short and sheer, revealed to Peter all of the marks he made on you. You bit your lip before acknowledging his presence.

Your cheeks buzzed with a combination of shyness and eagerness. “Peter? Did you forget something?”

His eyes clung to your breasts for another second before granting you his full attention.

“I got you… um, something, and I didn’t have your number,” he shrugged. You looked at his hand and saw the plastic Walgreens bag in his grasp.

“I know the sex was really good-”

“Really, really good,” he corrected.

His quick interjection made a laugh bubble in your chest. “Right. But, my hand in marriage, Peter?”

“I know, I’m such a romantic,” he shrugged..

“I have such a shit memory…How’d you remember where I live?”

“Put a tracker on you. You know, nothing crazy,” Peter said, putting the bag in your possession, the crinkles making your ears tingle.

“Smart,” you said taking the plastic in your hands. When you opened up the bag there was a small purple box causing you to let out a snicker. “Wow. Hand delivered Plan B? What a gentleman…”

Peter rubbed the back of his head, clearly embarrassed.

“I just felt really bad about not offering to use a condom or anything. And I’m clean, no doubt about it. So you don’t have to worry about it,” he said.

“Oh, thank you! I mean according to my period tracker I shouldn’t be ovulating, but I’ll take this anyways,” you found yourself oversharing, accommodating for his own discomfort.

“Yeah, can’t have mini me’s running around,” he smirked.

Your grin turned into a full-fledged, teeth and all smile. “Definitely not.”

Although the awkwardness of the situation made you cringe, it didn’t stop you from noticing how Peter looked so cute and sleepy-eyed. His messy tussles of hair were begging you to just hold on. It was sickening how terribly gravitated you were by him.

Your mouth was doing that thing again. Speaking without permission. “Don’t you think we should get your money’s worth?”

Peter tilted his head and soon after grinned, quick to unscramble your riddle. “Ah you don’t mean…”

“I do mean...” You pressed your thighs together at the thought of having him in you again. He had to have spent about fifty dollars on the small pill. Living in New York wasn’t cheap and neither was being a full-time student for Peter! It was in both of your best interests to make this count.

“I have class in an hour.” His words held no meaning when his eyes wandered to your thighs. It was just words and actions meant more. His feet were planted, unyielding, not ready to leave your apartment. You took a mental note that Peter noticed everything. And you were going to use it to your advantage

It wasn’t in your nature to be so bold, but every part of your body begged to please Peter. Let me your good girl, your neurons snapped and fired and pleaded.

“We don’t have to take an hour,” you said licking your lips.

Peter shook his head with a sinful grin before he took a step into your apartment, his backpack already flung to the floor to be forgotten for the next fifteen minutes.“You and your bright ideas…”

That was the third time Peter Parker came inside of you. Out of God who knows many times! The only difference was that you were now on birth control, an easy pick-up with your covered insurance. Thank you OSCORP!

When you reflect back, all you can do is blame it all on Peter. Though, you often noticed how you were always the one to initiate the sex. But it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for him and his eyes that made you feel like you were drunk all the time.

It was easier to be the victim than to purge all contact from Peter. Because that was what you would have to do if you weren’t the victim.

Finally, you had finished filing the large stack of paper on your desk. At least you could go home today and say that you completed something successfully. It was a Friday and you were antsy to go home. Not because of anything particular, but you were barely sleeping whether it was up from late nights with Peter or nights alone and thinking of Peter, both equally leaving you with a lack of restful nights.

As you sat back comfortably in your chair, you let out a sigh as if you were working yourself to the bone.

“You’ve been really tired recently, huh?”

When you look up, your eyes fixated on Harry in a well-fitted, navy suit.

“Blue suits you,” you said as he sat on your desk.

“Don’t tell me, you and Parker are having late nights,” he grinned, leaning forward on his knees. Perhaps to assert dominance. Show off the way that he knows what you have been up to.

“No, I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you scoffed.

“Right. From all of your late nights with him,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Respectfully, fuck off, Mr. Osborn.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N.” Harry hopped off the desk and proceeded to crack his knuckles. You watched as he walked around the foyer.

“Did you bring lunch today?” He said.

“No, I didn’t have time to pack anything.”

“Great. Join me? My treat,” Harry flashed a smug smirk.

It was a douchebag’s peace offering. One that you weren’t going to pass up.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

The cherry pie in front of Harry taunted you as you nibbled on the leafy greens and ruby red tomatoes on your plate.

“Pie for lunch. You’re living the life.”

“I told you to order whatever you like,” Harry laughed, pointing his sugar-coated fork at you to emphasize his words.

Harry had decided on a small bistro a couple of blocks away from OSCORP. You had expected to walk to lunch, but Prince Harry had other plans that involved a black Mercedes Benz and a personal driver. Spoiled, you thought to yourself in the luxurious car.

“And I like this,” you gestured to your vibrant salad.

Harry scoffed, preceding to shake his head at your remark. “Yeah right.”

“Bite me,” you said after taking a mouthful of the arugula in your mouth, giving Harry a dorky smile with greens in between your teeth. “Careful for what you wish for.”

In a way, you were thankful that Harry continued with the snide comments and flirty remarks even though you were seeing his best friend. It was the only normalcy you had at the moment and you knew you could count on his smart mouth. Harry would burst at the seams if he knew how you looked forward to his banter.

Harry placed the fork down and rested his chin on his palm. “So what are you guys?”

You let out an aggravated sigh. “Harry, I’m not going to talk to you about this.”

“Fuck professionalism, I set you up on that date. I deserve to know what’s the deal with you two.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Harry,” you said plainly.

What was there to say to Harry? You clearly weren’t dating Peter Parker, but you wouldn’t go out of your way to say that you were friends with benefits. It was hard to find the exact terminology for what you two were to each other. You could say “fuck buddies” but that didn’t feel right either. It felt like you were sex acquaintances. Acquainted with each other through sex, that’s all. Because saying “friends with benefits” would entail that you were friends or that you know remotely anything about each other.

You didn’t know how to comprehend the situation-ship.

What was worse was that you were suppressing any feelings for him because it was easy to enjoy someone's company when they were making you cum. He touched you like he loved and worshipped you, but despite everything, he continued to be distant and mentally absent from you aside from the banter you shared. It was confusing.

It all felt like shallow banter and hollow flirting.

When it came down to it, you both didn’t know much about one another. When you don’t share a real conversation with one another, but spend a consequential amount of time together, that leaves room for observation. He didn’t have to say a thing for you to know him. You could tell when he was anxious or had a lot on his mind. It was simple observation and emotional cognition, but it felt like he didn’t have that same understanding for you. He didn’t watch and study you the way that you did.

It felt silly to search for a fleeting moment of bliss with him. You were chasing that recklessly. Somehow it was worse to be in love with Peter than be with Harry you realize. Peter was secretive and you were greedy. It didn’t mix well.

You were embarrassed to admit that you wanted more of him.

“Why don’t you ask Peter?”

“He won’t tell me a thing,” he shrugged.

Peter didn’t talk about you. It was both relieving and hurtful. But maybe it was for the best that Harry had nothing to say about it so he couldn’t tell you that this was a bad idea or that Peter was just using you. Both equally terrible news.

Harry’s eyes searched for the reason that caused you visible distress. All you could do was let out a breath that brought no real relief and give Harry a response.“I don’t know what we are, okay?”

Harry’s eyes softened. “What do you want to be?”

A snort escaped from you. It was a hilarious question, something you never let yourself truly think about. “Again, I don’t know.”

The sexual compatibility was transpicuous and it was so unbelievably clear how easy it was to fall into one another. Yet, there was always something holding Peter back. The way that he would part his lips and momentarily light up, just to throw away a semblance of spark in himself. It seemed as though he was constantly at war with himself.

You wanted to tell him to snap out of it and quit holding back.

You started to fork around the vegetables. Pushed the lettuce to the outer rim and rolled the tomatoes in circles. Poked and prodded at the cucumber. You lost your appetite.

“I’m just curious, Y/N. Need to know if I have to beat his ass or not,” Harry said with his eyes stuck on your plate. You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bare to see his pity.

You gave him a hollow laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

The sunlight was what woke you up at first.

The luster of amber had seeped into your bedroom and stirred you awake. It was Saturday morning, and you didn’t catch up on any sleep. In Harry’s words, you had another late night with Peter. You threw your bedsheets over your head. You partially dozed off before an arm slung around your body, stirring your consciousness to be more present.

The sudden warmth and presence of another confused you. You propped yourself up with your elbow and looked at the mess of brown hair on the adjacent pillow.

“Peter?” You said bewildered at the sight.

Peter was sleeping on his stomach, the white comforter draped along his lower back like a gossamer robe on a Grecian. His face was away from you and all you could see was his naked back and mop of hair. It wasn’t his glorious, toned back that had your heart racing, but more so that he was there at all.

“Hmmm?” Peter’s hand softly rubbed on your hip to acknowledge you. Your instincts were to grab his hand and hold it tightly, kiss his knuckles even. His touch burned into you.

It was hard to recall how last night ended. You don’t remember specifically falling asleep with Peter. You just remember falling asleep immediately. Whether Peter stayed or not wasn’t a question you were thinking about anymore, you just knew that he was going to leave. That was the routine.

You felt your voice go meek, but you forced the words out. “You stayed over?”

“I guess I did…” He mumbled, his face still smothered in pillows and sheets. His morning voice was raspy and made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just surprised.” You were talking to a head of hair, but it somehow made it easier to talk to him. His eyes weren’t coercing you or turning you into a babbling idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Peter and all of his apologies. It made you want to hold him in your arms and tell him that he has nothing to be sorry about. Instead, you soaked up the view of him in the morning. Here. With you.

“It’s okay, Peter.”

“Can I stay a bit longer?”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, falling back into bed.

You snaked your arm around his back, his skin hot to the touch, and spooned him, something you had never dared to do.

His skin smelled warm. Aromatic.

Lavender and tonka bean perfumed your sheets, turning Peter into a casualty.

He smelled like your lotion.

You understood what he meant when he said he wanted to eat you. You wanted to bite into his shoulder and inhale him until there was no more room in your lungs.

You hoped your embrace was enough to convey that you wanted him to stay more than anything. For once you didn’t care what he thought and you didn’t care if you were overstepping boundaries. You only wanted to let the morning sun kiss your back as your eyelashes fluttered against Peter’s shoulder blades.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

An hour later, you properly woke up, but this time Peter wasn’t with you and the sun was no longer seeping through the blinds. A sense of relief flooded you. The idea that you didn’t have to confront him about his stay and try to make sense of everything brought you comfort, even if it would’ve been nice to wake up to him and his sleepy eyes.

The Peter-shaped dent in the mattress was proof that he had slept over. With your foolish heart and tired eyes, you were unsure if what you saw had been an apparition, a dream at best. Your eyes searched for further evidence.

When you looked at the nightstand on his side, you saw a Polaroid and a single picture. Stretching out your arm, you took the photo between your fingers and examined it. Oddly enough, it was a picture of you.

The morning light illuminated the room with a halo-like essence around you, the yellow sheen bouncing off from your shoulder blades. There was the slightest visual of your lips past all of the hair, your bottom lip protruding- a pretty pout for Peter. It was almost angelic.

For a long time, you lay in bed with your hand in the air, the picture staring back at you. You have never had such a pretty photograph of yourself before and you wanted to memorize each detail.

Did this mean anything?

Normally, you held up the dam of your feelings with ease, but for some reason, your hold was slipping. The water was making its way past the cracks, the barrier useless against all of the thoughts flooding your mind. It was overwhelming. You were losing your control over a picture. Peter sleeping over didn’t even make you this dizzy.

In your mind, the sleepover was merely an accident, but implementing the two-thirds composition rule and pressing the shutter button wasn’t an accident. How could that be an accident?

You held it in your hand as you left your bedroom, unable to part with such an offering. Walking to the kitchen with the photo in one hand, you began to hear some noises and realized that Peter had never left. This sudden realization made you grasp tighter onto the photo as if Peter was going to snatch it out of your hand.

Peter finally came into view— a tummy-turning view at that. Shirtless and focused, he moved fluidly around your kitchen as if it was his kitchen. He was rummaging through cabinets, pouring liquid, and playing with mugs, all the while his back flexing with each movement. The marks you left from last night were still red on his skin.

“Oh, I thought you left,” you said.

“You always think I’m leaving or something,” he chuckled without looking back at you.

Because you always leave, your mind hissed back. You swatted the intrusive and petty thoughts away, pushing them behind all of your unpacked feelings about Peter.

You sat at the dining table and tried your best to remain calm as if this was another ordinary morning with Peter. Another ordinary morning with Peter who took pretty photos of you while you slept.

Didn’t he know? Candids were for people you cared about.

You took the photo and put it behind your thigh. The slick film was cool to the touch. A reminder that you were something so beautiful that Peter stopped to take a picture. It was a stretch, but furthermore, you didn't know how to talk about it yet. It was better to hide it beneath you than talk to Peter about his actions.

“Am I overstaying my welcome?” he asked, continuing his task at hand.

“Not at all.”

You were lying. If he knew you any better, he would’ve known the way that you wiggled your nose. A small bluff that even Harry knows.

Of course, you were lying! He changed the routine. He’s getting your hopes up.

“Good, 'cause I was about to pour your tea down the drain if that was the case.”

Your heart fluttered. Peter at the very least cared about you! Who makes tea for someone you don’t care about? Psychos?

“You made me tea?”

He turned around, his front side now a view to you, with the two mugs in his hands and a grin on his face. “Figured you didn’t want any coffee,” he said before setting your mug on the table.

“You figured right,” you murmured, taking a deep inhale of the cup.

Rather than sit at the table with you, Peter leaned on the counter and took a sip of his drink.

Peter Parker in the morning was strangely generous, or at least more generous than normal. This pit of feelings was getting deeper and deeper within the hour. Your imminent descent was going to be fatal, you thought as you blew on the mug.

Peter’s brown tufts of hair were out of place and he wore a lazy, yet satisfied grin. He was the poster child for the sexy morning look. You wanted to avert your eyes and save yourself from all the drool, but who knew when was the next time you would see Peter like this?

This interaction was all too casual for you. All too domestic.

Shuffling around your kitchen as if it was his. Making you tea with his own free will as if he knew you like the back of his hand. Photographing small moments that he wanted as a keepsake as if you were his and someone he would want to treasure.

And it would’ve been so easy for you to give everything up to him.

For fuck’s sake, he made you tea, and now, you’re willing to do anything for him?

No, you weren’t that weak and you weren’t that hypnotized. Peter was a man, who only comes to you for one thing and one thing only.

Your eyes fell from the rim of his glasses to his toned abs and the faint bulge in his shorts, convincing yourself that you wanted him for one thing and one thing only. You definitely did not want to stare into his eyes and exchange intimate secrets with Peter. Only partake in physical activities with him.

A certain quietness sat still between you two. The only sound in the kitchen was alternating sounds of Peter taking sips and you blowing your tea. Not even the normal New York white noise was apparent to you. You were completely absorbed with this small pod of yours that just so happened to have Peter Parker.

Were you supposed to be acting like everything was okay? When in fact you weren’t okay?

The herbal steam mixed in with your breath, the air around you warm. Normally that warmth would be relaxing, but you felt sticky. You were oddly hyper-aware of the polaroid beneath your thighs, the film adhering to your skin. You peeled it off and held it in your lap, still hidden from Peter. The border felt grainy between your fingers. What did this mean? You felt dull compared to the girl who was golden and sun-soaked in the picture.

You had this certain itch that urged you to let the questions spill right out, but that would be so fully you. Your impulsive mouth was what got you here.

You watched Peter take a sip from his mug, his eyes on the wood floor. If you don’t say anything, Peter will stay quiet and stare at the ground until he realizes it’s his time to leave.

Maybe your mouth was a good thing.

“Is this me?” You asked, finally holding the picture up.

When his eyes reached the photo in your hands, he took another sip. Peter was unfazed. There was no change in his posture, your findings deeming no surprise to him. He was still enjoying his coffee like someone does when they have no secrets to hide.

For some reason, that didn’t sit well with you. A part of you yearned for a reaction out of him, something that told you more about him. A smile that said, you found it. Or rosy cheeks that wished he hid it properly.

“Oh, right. I hope you don’t mind,” he said cooly. “It’s for a class of mine.”

For a class. Not recreational enjoyment or holding any sentiment.

You couldn’t help but frown at him. “Kind of creepy, Peter.”

He tilted his head in confusion. “Shit, really?”

You wanted to turn this around and make him feel silly. What are you doing taking pictures of unconscious girls? Make him feel like the asshole. ‘Cause he was an asshole. An asshole for making you feel crazy.

Instead, you relinquished the photo to the table. “I’m just joking with you. It’s a nice photo.”

“Thank you.”

You swirled the mug in your hands, the liquid nearly spilling. Disappointment sat in your chest and you yearned for reassurance. You wished he was different.

One would assume that after spending a couple of weeks together, your connection with Peter would have grown, even minutely. But it feels like the first day of your meeting with him. Physically near, yet so far away.

"You know, it felt like you didn’t like me at the coffee shop.” You find yourself admitting.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm, weird.”

“Right,” you squinted your eyes at him, searching for his thoughts. “Weird.”

You expected him to say kind, heartfelt words. Words that fit around your syllabus. Of course, I liked you on our first date. Or I like you now, don’t I? But he was never one to omit that type of stuff. He couldn't even lie about it. Instead, he says, weird.

The sleepover. The photo. It was all changing your perception and expectations of this relationship. It was criminal.

“I like you on top of me.”

God, did this guy know how to read a room. You didn’t know what to feel with his sudden proclamation. You reluctantly took a sip of your tea, your body unsure what to do with itself. The tea hit the back of your throat, cold and bitter. The warmth had disappeared leaving you disappointed. The warmth in the tea and in Peter.

“I’m sure you like any girl on top of you,” you said unamused while you tried to get over the bitterness in your mouth.

He shrugged, clearly unaware of your feelings. “I will take anything I get.”

Asshole.

You hated moments like this. Uninterested Peter. Peter, who gives you nothing to work with. You couldn’t even make excuses for him.

“Ya’ know... I especially like you under me.”

When you looked up, Peter was taking a long sip from his mug. Past the steam, his eyes were glued on you. He was like a lion watching his prey. Ready to devour you.

And these moments were worse. Peter Parker, who resorts to sex. And you, who lets him use you.

Whether he liked you or not on the first date (or even, right now) didn’t matter. It was the answer that he withheld from you. It was the way he never let you in, not even for a moment. You deserved the truth, didn’t you?

You felt irritated. Irritated that he couldn’t be honest and couldn’t go further than having sex with you, as if sex isn’t far enough. Normally, you would push away his indifference or welcome the new sexual tension. But, today wasn’t like all the other days where you accept the role as Peter’s lap dog.

“Why would I like that?” You scoffed at your mug. Brave enough to challenge him and yet you couldn’t bring your eyes to him. It was a pathetic attempt at gaining control, but being confrontational wasn’t your thing. Being Peter’s good girl was your thing.

“Like what?” He said.

You dragged your tongue across your teeth, the lack of amusement clear on your face. “Being under you,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Your defiance caused a wicked laugh to come out of him.

“You’re serious right now?" His voice was deep and intense making your stomach quick to stir.

You could hear Peter walk closer, making the space between you lessen until his feet were in your eyesight.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You said softly. You meant to be more confident and use your anger as fuel, but your irritation was replaced with anticipation.

"You're funny." His tone continued to be stern and heavy on your chest. Heavy in your abdomen.

His hand skimmed your cheek, a barely-there touch before his lips pressed against your forehead like a blessing. Like smudging ash in the shape of a cross on your forehead.

You felt like dust, crumbling into nothing.

“Can I show you?” He whispered.

You opened your mouth to say no, but Peter didn’t give you the chance to answer. He wasn’t asking you, he was warning you. He hoisted you up onto him in one swift motion from the chair to his chest. A whimper had escaped you and so did your aggravation. It was a quick exchange, a flustered feeling now warming your cheeks with this sensation of not knowing what to do with yourself and all of your thoughts.

With a tight grip, he suspended you in the air at the waist. The act said it is so easy to make you mine. You were in his whole possession.

Peter turned you into an atomic bomb compressed into a woman who has no choice but to stay calm as if you were anything but an overwhelmed and confused woman. All you could do was let him pepper kisses along your jaw, hoping that it would burn the turmoil away.

You could never think straight when it came to Peter. You were putty in his hands, and all you could do was dig your nails into his back. You so desperately wanted to be strong, but the way that he held you up by your waist so easily made you aroused.

“Peter...” You moaned.

“Want me to stop?” His lips moved gently against your soft flesh, the kiss of air prickling at the spots Peter sucked on. The way that he dragged his tongue along your neck made your hips buck.

“I’ll stop if you ask me to.” He assured you again. It was meaningless words that you didn’t know if you could trust. His roaming hands said he had no intention of stopping. He just wanted to parade his power in front of you. Like a new, shiny toy on Christmas Day. Look at this. Look at the way I make you needy. He was just waiting patiently for your surrender.

Peter continued to make you lightheaded with his hands and his lips and his tongue. After weeks of late-night hookups, he knew what made you weak. He was taking advantage of your sensitivity knowing that you would never dare to ask him to stop.

He kneaded your ass, his middle finger dragging near your slit in the process. It was clear how wet you were for him when he traced the hem of your moist panties.

He shifted the thin layer of fabric to the side, your pussy now exposed and vulnerable to him. When his ring finger brushed against your needy hole, he could feel your chest expand with all the air in the room.

“Didn’t think so,” he mumbled against your neck. “If you wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be this wet.”

His lips trailed along your shoulder, leaving sloppy kisses, coaxing out sighs from you. It was like each time he pressed a kiss to you, he was putting oxygen into you and the only thing you could do was exhale it out with a moan before you became overfilled with him.

He was right, you didn’t want him to stop. You just wanted to know if he liked you. That’s all. So you took it out on him with bitter remarks, attempting to shoot bullets in his chest, and instead, he turned the gun around on you.

Peter’s middle finger found it’s way to your entrance, your voice getting caught in your throat. It easily slipped in, your treacherous pussy sucking it in. To your dismay, he wasn’t gentle at all, vigorously inserting it in and out of you. As your nails dug into his back and his finger pumped into you, your whimpers echoed.

“So sensitive,” he chuckled. Peter’s lips feathered against your ear, a chill tingling at your spine.

“It’s not funny,” you pouted with your lips pressed against his neck.

He pulled his finger out of you, abandoning your pussy. The emptiness made you whimper. “I mean, it’s pretty funny to me.”

Peter kept one hand around your ass, holding your weight up while he took his middle finger into his mouth and tasted you. He looked at you with glazed eyes causing a release of butterflies in your stomach. “Be a good girl for me, will you?”

“Maybe, I’ll let you taste yourself on my cock,” he said before spanking your ass. You yelped at the impact, your arms helplessly clenching his chest as if he wasn’t the one who spanked you. God, he was going to make you eat your words.

“You’re not being very nice,” you mewled, the spot where he slapped beginning to burn.

“Good girls get good things,” he whispered before setting you down on the countertop.

The wood was a cold shock to you, your pussy now flush to the table. You were suddenly aware of how naked and raw you were right now, the air around you so / sharp.

He took a step back and examined you like you were his morning meal. His eyes had turned from a hazelnut brown to obsidian black. There was a glint in his eyes that scared you. Gave you fear that pulsed in your empty slit.

He pulled you into him by your hips and your dripping cunt immediately found his hard length. Though you were sitting on the table now, Peter towered over you. He had all the power. He always has. So, you let him do everything. You were too weak to do anything but ball his waistband into your fist. He wanted to put you in your place, and you let him. You were his to kiss and ruin.

He grabbed your hair and ushered you to his lips. His tongue lapped into your mouth and his hands wandered. You could taste the bitter coffee and it transported you back to the first day you met him.

He has always been disinterested and detached Peter. You never knew what to make out of him back then and you still don’t.

Kissing him for the first time was unexpected. Unforeseen. But it still felt that way when you were with him, even with him inching closer to you. Your mind constantly thinking, oh, he’s kissing me again as if it was a goddam miracle for him to still want you.

God, were you lost in his touch. Dissolving into his mouth, each kiss to your skin an attempt to get to the center of you like a damn tootsie pop. He kissed you once on the nape of your neck. Twice on your jaw. And the third time, he took you by your lips.

It was like he was trying to find the answer to the age-old question: how many licks to the center of a tootsie pop? Except it was how many kisses till you fall apart?

For you it wasn’t about how many kisses, but which kiss? Because you fell apart a long time ago. Probably the day he kissed you in the rain. The day he washed your back and pressed a delicate kiss right behind your ear, a place meant for secrets, not kisses. But maybe he was telling you something in another language. Sharing a vulnerability with you that you didn’t know.

Your head was dizzy with the thought. The feeling that Peter had broken you apart was enough to make you shudder. He was peeling back your skin till you were nothing but a skeleton and taking it upon himself to carve his name into the bone. He was always taking. Taking your mind. Your attention. Your orgasms… It wasn’t fair.

You mustered up all the strength in you to gain control.

“Peter, you can’t...” You mewled in a weak attempt.

He nipped at your shoulder, a mean bite to your flesh.

A desperate ahhh came from your throat when his canines pressed into you, sending a thick jolt up your chest. The sudden pain created an embarrassing stimulation to your slit. You buckled you hips, your pussy begging for Peter’s lips to reattach to it.

“When did you become such a brat?” His groan vibrated against your collarbone, his voice traveling to your core.

Humiliation spread across your face. But for all the wrong reasons. He made you feel so small. Terribly submissive. And you liked it. You attempted to squeeze your thighs together, but Peter felt your slight shift and immediately brought it to a halt, clutching at your leg.

He lowered his head in a way that his lips lightly brush against your ear. “I’ll take good care of you if you’ll let me.

The heat from his mouth made your nipples harden all the while, the butterflies in your stomach were traveling to your wet cunt.

Once again, Peter slid your panties to the side and started tending to your clit. His fingers were electricity, your body just a host for all the pleasure Peter granted you. The tempo was slow and reeling like the fire in his eyes. He had an appetite for you. You could tell by the darkened look in his eyes and the way he licked his lips.

“Take off your shirt,” he demanded. His fingers circled around your pussy, an agonizing repetition from rubbing over your empty hole to your swelling bud. Your index finger twitched, ready to be compliant, but the little demon in the back of your head quickly terminated the movement.

“Or what,” you said shaky, occasionally shuddering when his fingers reached your clit. You were high off of disobedience, the act of challenging him bringing you butterflies. You were desperate to see what he’ll do to you.

“Or else,” he murmured.

“That’s not a real answer,” you said further provoking him.

You could see his jaw clench, the light flicker in his eyes. Your pussy was throbbing at the sight. He blinked his eyes once, before working your shorts and panties off of you. He made up his mind. He figured out your punishment within seconds.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he deadpanned. Peter threw the clothing to the floor, leaving you in your flimsy tank. Peter stared at your cunt for a long time, licking his lips. Your instincts told you to cover your pussy, but decided against it and left your legs open for him. It was too late to be shy. And what was there to be shy about when he looked at you like something worth looking at? Wasn’t that what you wanted?

When he finally brought his eyes to your face, he bent down and kneeled at your feet. It happened so fast, yet so slow. Like your brain couldn’t register what was happening.

Your cheeks turned crimson seeing that he was close enough to smell your cunt. Preemptively, you dug your fingernails into the table and bit your lip. “Peter… What are you doing?”

He answered, but not the way that you expected him to. You gasped as he took your bud into his mouth, experimentally scraping the bundle of nerves with his teeth. “Peter!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He said, eyes overcome with lust. He stared you down while his lips pressed a wet kiss to your heat. He never failed to make you feel so small, even though he was the one kneeling down before you.

He hummed with satisfaction as he dipped his tongue into you, soaking your folds with his saliva.

You hoisted yourself up by your palm, watching him work with awe. He introduced two fingers into you, stretching you wider, as he used every part of his mouth to please you. You couldn’t identify Peter’s saliva and your juices separately. They mixed like red and blue turning it into an unrecognizable, purple mess that you created together.

Before you know it, the pleasure turned into something that moved you. You were rocking into him, trying to catch the gratification. His position was perfect and any second longer, you were going to see stars. His arms anchored around your hips, a thumb lazily dragging across your clit while your legs hung on his shoulders. You kept rocking, bucking your hips up and down, using his face and fingers like a toy. How could he have all the power when you were violating him like this?

“Am I doing a good job?” His raggedy voice vibrated against your skin.

What do you think, you laughed to yourself. You were riding his face, hips shifting and pussy quivering. You were immobilized in his hands, enjoying every lick he gave you. You wished you could take a picture of the sight. Peter kneeling for you with his mouth enveloping your cunt, a thick tent in between his legs.

“Admit it. You like how I touch you,” he pressed a kiss to your cunt, a temporary break from the unrelenting friction. He gave you begging words with a candied peck, but you knew it wasn’t free. It’s intentions were to make you submit, create a more vulnerable you so he can take you in his powerful hold and torment you. Your words were a binding contract, your statement forever on the record. You couldn’t bare to incriminate yourself.

But then his fingers were knuckles deep in you, rapidly moving in a blinding pace. In the meantime, his kisses turned you into a bite of the fist. He started to move his face left and right, his tongue putting more and more pressure on you.

You wanted to cry. Cry out in pleasure and let the tears fall from the overwhelming pressure of everything. Your true feelings for Peter were thumping at your chest and you wanted to ignore them. You wanted to tell him that he made you feel so good. That animalistic inclination to please Peter was eating at you from the inside.

“You like the way I kiss you.” He started to slow his rhythm down, the vigorous pumps of his fingers dying down and his tongue gently sweeping your clit. “The way I eat you out.”

You hummed with desire, a lazy and vague response to the cruel Peter. You were used to his cruelty, but this was a different type of cruel. Deliberate and mocking.

“I need to hear you say it,” he said, his unmoving fingers now soaking in you. Your hips grinded against them, needy to be pumped full.

“I can’t,” you managed to get out past the broken breaths.

“Must be doing a bad job, then, huh?”

“Should stop since I’m so shit,” he said, pulling his fingers out and using them to trail along your opening. You could feel your pussy clenching, searching for something to pulsate around.

You whined desperately for him, your heart plummeting down your ribcage like a falling from a flight of stairs, each ribcage a rigged step.

He released you from his hold, your body suddenly so empty without his touch.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to keep going?” He feigned innocence.

He was an annoying and persistent salesman at the door, ringing the bell and knocking violently, and you hide in your room with your hands over your ear. No one’s home! Go away! I don’t want to buy your terribly manufactured product!

Go away, Peter. I don’t know how to talk to you.

Admitting you wanted him was dangerous for your headspace even if it was just a sex thing. It was like once you started talking, you weren’t going to stop. A small admission of the sexual pleasure he gave you would snowball into how much you wanted him to like you. Or worse, the act of saying it out loud turned it into something that you couldn't take back. Your feelings coming to fruition. But at the moment, denying yourself of an orgasm felt worse.

“Peter, don’t,” you uttered, your voice broken up and small. This awarded you with the insertion of a finger, the slow thrust pushing a satisfied moan out of you.

“Peter, don’t what,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper against your skin making you curl into him. You tried to catch your breath, find your voice, come to your senses. But it was hard when Peter’s eyes bore into you, patiently waiting for your answer. He put pressure on you with this already there burden in your gut.

“Don’t stop,” you blushed. “Want you to make me cum…”

“Where?” He looked at you with a newfound softness, a face that said please tell me more.

“Need to cum on your face,” you sighed with eyes hazy as you could feel Peter draw closer to you. His presence was like static, his lips emitting this energy that you can feel inches away.

His lips finally reached you again. That energy surged through you like you were an outlet and him, the plug, your collision creating glints of light.

Peter flicked his tongue up and down eagerly, taking your confession to heart. Immediately, the familiar sensation of arousal bubbled up from your slit to your chest. The pleasure was pumping into you, building up to something that you couldn’t handle, turning you squeamish. You jolted and tried to adjust your hips, your body unconsciously fighting Peter.

He was so cruel. Holding you down like you were the canvas during an earthquake and he, the determined painter, continues to stroke till his work is complete.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he said between licks.

You’re purple all over, the matrimonial union of red and blue occurring over and over. Your shared secretions intertwine with each other. The sweat and saliva. The glossiness of your cunt. All of it. If thoughts could transcend through bodily fluids, then Peter would already know all of your secrets. All of the things you want to tell him. All of the things you can’t say.

Peter’s tongue had found a hurried tempo that makes your hips buckle. It was getting harder and harder to hold yourself up. You put so much pressure onto your hands, trying to grip the rigid wood, the shock of each lick to your bottom half aiming no mercy to your arms.

You swear there’s a fire in your bloodstream and all you do is scream Peter’s name, him being the one who committed the arson. The flames traveled from up your legs to your face, an outpour of pleasure coursing through your body.

“I’m coming!” You cried, your grasp full of his thick hair.

“Come for me, baby,” he cooed, letting you convulse on his face.

The arsonist in him has a smug smile watching you tremble and your pussy twitch, your whole body up in flames. You arched your back, gratification advancing through the channels in your spine.

Your chest was heavy as you attempted to balance your numb legs on his shoulders. Catching your breath was nearly impossible with your throbbing heart and the tremors rolling through your cunt. Peter’s hands held onto your hips, keeping you steady and from falling.

When you finally reeled back to your senses, you brushed Peter’s hair back to get a good look at his face. “Peter…” You purred.

“How do you want it?”

“What?”

“You don’t think we’re done, do you?”

The blood from your swollen pussy rushed up to your face, the unbearable heat blooming in your cheeks. “Peter, I really don’t thi-”

“Fine, I’ll choose for you,” he declared calmly.

Peter’s hands were faster than your declines. He pulled you off the table and turned your around so that your ass was flush with his cock. His hand nudged your weak body into the table and started to spread your legs.

Your whole body was tingling with anticipation. He has never fucked you with such dominance and it made you feel exhilarated. Your logic was fighting against him, unsure if you could take any more.

“Peter,” you croaked out. “M’ so weak.”

“I told you, I’ll take care of you, didn’t I?” The cloy tone he bared to you made your stomach turn as his hands snaked to your hips, his grip gnawing into your flesh.

He uses his cock to tap on your entrance like knocks at a door.

You dug your nails into the table again, bracing yourself for his length. You expect him to shove it in, hard and unforgiving, but instead, he nudged his leaking tip into you, swirling the head in your wetness.

And then he fucks you agonizingly slow.

He winded his cock all the way out, just to inch it back in, coating every part of your walls with his precum. Peter’s calculated thrusts rendered him balls deep into you, nearly hitting your cervix with his length.

You were enamored by the sedated cadence and the sensations of Peter. You could hear his labored breaths and feel the moisture on his palms. The occasional grunts in your ears. Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“More,” you muttered under your breath.

A part of you hoped he didn’t hear it, and the sick and twisted part of you does.

There was a soft chuckle coming from Peter. When his voice comes out, it sounds candy coated to you.

“You think you can take it?”

“No,” you told him. He didn’t understand you most of the time, but he understood you now. You wanted to feel the pleasure and the hurt that came with his cock. You wanted as much of Peter as you could get. You wanted it all.

The snap of his hips was like a whip made out of lightning, a thunderstorm collecting in your apartment. The electricity of his touch and the claps of his thrusts had echoed. The overstimulation had created you into a babbling mouth of nonsense.

“Gonna fuck the brat out of you,” he groaned, the words coming across like a warning.

You were someone else at that moment, pleading and begging with tears in your eyes. Please, please, please was drooling from your mouth, a recitation as if it was the only word you knew and couldn’t bare to lose it. You knew you were someone else because your hand reached out for his. You were already intertwined in his body, but it wasn’t enough. You needed to feel his grip, interlock his fingers with yours.

Before the hand of uncertainty reaches you, you place your palm over his knuckles. His thrusts were violent and your legs were already ready to give out from you. It’s for stability, not yearning, you convince yourself.

To your surprise, he pulled his hand from under yours and seized it in one fast motion, his large hands clenching onto you like you wanted.

Your heart stirred. Not from the previous orgasm and not from being railed, but from holding hands with him, the most intimate act you have experienced with him. “Peter…” You whispered.

“Say it again,” he groaned into your ear.

You repeat his name with each thrust. It was an exorcism of him, a ritual to fuck the thoughts of him right out. So you give in, desperately needing it to work. To appease the choir and rid yourself of the spirit. His name was guiding you to your catharsis.

You were entirely enraptured by his dick, your walls starting to clench again.

“Feel you getting tighter,” he pressed wet kisses against the curve of your shoulder. “Gonna come, aren’t you?”

“Maybe...” Your voice came out strained and tiny, like a butterfly with a broken wing unsteady in flight.

“Maybe?” He growled and proceeded to massage your cunt with an intensity that made you almost fall over. “Such a brat. You want me to stop?”

“No!” You cried out immediately.

“Prove it.” His thrust came to a halt and his mean voice commanded you.

You shoved his cock into you, straight to the hilt, and started to push against his cock to your wits ends. It felt like all of the oxygen in your brain had left so that it can make a new home in your core. You moved against him like each pump would grant you a small supply of oxygen.

“Fuck. Look at you making a mess on my cock,” he hissed.

It’s like he put you in a trance. Your body was fatigued and you could barely stand without your legs shaking. Yet you did as you were told and fucked his cock.

His hands were heaven against you. His thumb trailed along your knuckles while you pushed back against him. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

That was the second time he called you baby. The first time, you were too absorbed in your orgasm to register it. And now, you were more coherent than you were and holding his hand. Hearing baby felt taunting and mean, but you held it close to your chest anyways.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised you with that same endearment. “You’re gonna make me cum like that.”

You could feel his cock pulsate and throb at your walls. It felt like you were set ablaze, the fire sizzling at your skin. The name-calling. The hand holding. The thick, pulsating member. The accumulation of it all had collected into your core, your orgasm blossoming at the sensation overload.

“Can you get any tighter?” He groaned.

“Peter…” You tried to warn him, but it was lodged in your throat.

His hand was clutching onto yours as if you threatened to take it away from him. His grip was strong, too strong. He was hurting you, but you didn’t care when it felt so good. You dug your nails into your palm as Peter coaxed your orgasm out.

You came to the summit again with sweat beading at your pores and shaky legs. Fragmented curses were drawn out from you as you reached the peak of your high.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” You gasped, frantically moving on Peter’s cock for the sole purpose of your satisfaction.

“Oh, baby…” he moaned. “Fucking milk me.”

You turned your head back to watch Peter, to look at him use you. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes mesmerized by your greedy pussy eating him whole. Your mouth was agape as he thrust into you, soft moans vibrating in your throat. God, he was so pretty.

When he caught you aimlessly staring, his eyebrows knit together in agony. “Don’t give me those eyes, baby.”

“Gonna make me cum just from your pretty eyes,” he rasped.

Peter reached out to your neck, his hands covering it completely, pulling you closer to him so that your back was against his chest.

You arched your back, giving Peter a better angle to ram his cock into you. He used your clenching pussy to find his release and slammed against your walls repeatedly. You desperately bit your lip to smother the sobs that were on the precipice of forming.

“Fuck! Gonna cum in you!” He was panting, his breath hot against your skin.

Encouraging words were spilling from your mouth like God, yes, and fucking cum in me and Peter, just like that.

Peter felt like hot wax on your body, the molten liquid trickling all over you until you were a mold of a version of yourself that you didn’t like. The candle wax sculpture of you encapsulates thoughts of only Peter. He was all-consuming, marking every part of your body as his.

He rocked into you slowly as he pumped his spill into you. You could feel Peter’s cum fill you up, the liquid practically leaking from your hole.

When the thrusts became nothing but cock warming, a thank you escaped from your lips before you could retract it. Though it felt impossible, your cheeks reddened further from your intrusive gratitude. Thank you for making me cum, Peter. How dorky of you.

“You’re so weird,” Peter laughed with his face resting on your shoulder.

“I guess you really did fuck the brat out of me,” you huffed out.

He pressed a delicate kiss on the arch of your lower back before undoing himself from you.

After cleaning you up, Peter guided you to the couch, letting you use his chest as a pillow.

It was a quiet afternoon that seemed to stand still like this. You didn’t expect Peter to still be here. A part of you was waiting for him to get up and leave.

While Peter had buried his face into your hair and continuously traced the outline of your body, you were drawing invincible constellations on his sinewy chest and listening to his heart attempt to regulate itself. You tried to focus on the rhythm to avoid the thoughts that were at the forefront of your mind.

You and Peter didn’t need a label, not when the sex was that amazing. Peter wasn’t complaining and you weren’t going to start. Who needed mental stability anyways?

You could feel a certain type of drowsiness slowly sinking into your body with your eyelids becoming heavy. You let out a sluggish yawn.

“Tired?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Can I be honest with you before you go to sleep?”

You shook your head in approval, too worn out to use your words.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m addicted to you,” Peter said quitely.

There was an immediate reanimation of your heart, the words shocking it awake like Frankenstein’s monster.

You craned your neck back to look at him, trying to see if he was playing a prank on you. If he was sleep talking.

He looked almost disappointed with his head back and his lips slack in disinterest. You watched as he kept his eyes closed and adam's apple dramatically bob as if he took a big gulp. Somehow, despite the visible discomfort and forlornness, his words were euphonious. You could already feel your future self berate you. Stupid girl.

A hum of acknowledgment floated in the air. Your thoughts were in an indecipherable frenzy while in conjunction, any response you had was trapped in your throat. You were short-circuiting. Failing to comprehend anything at all.

It was throwing vodka back. A burn from your throat, slowly trickling down to the pit of your stomach. The liquid courage coursing through you. Your body overflowing with heat and comfort. But somewhere in your brain were saying this was a bad idea.

It felt good to be with Peter, but that didn’t mean that it was good to be with him.

And yet you were replaying his words over and over again.

I’m addicted to you.

You were going to desperately hang onto that, a reminder for any future regret. It made regret feel like a smaller, less important feeling to Peter Parker’s personal addiction. Even if he never made it feel that way.

Peter’s confession was branded on you, tattooed and etched all over your eyelids, and you had no words to brand onto him.

You didn’t fight the heavy lids and the lead in your blood. You let sleep take you before you could tell him that you had it worse than him.

a/n: please forgive me, children. a lot of internal conflict for y/n in this one since petey baby is just so difficult. i was trying so hard to push this out that halfway through i started to listen to mario kart music.

this was so agonizing to write for the longest time and then it wasn’t! after two months, i finally found a rhythm and wrote away… please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! it’s the flame to a candle for me (the support and motivation the flame and me the candle… lolz) fire it up boizzz xoxo

reblog to be put on the taglist

@http.teddy00 @mojesticworlds @blackbirdds

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hittmeandtellmeyouremine · 6 months ago

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

pairing: experienced!harry osborn x virgin!afab!reader

summary: harry tracks you down, asking you to go to unity day with him. it doesn't go as planned, whatsoever. he invited someone else and almost died. if you knew that he would almost die, you would've said no. if you knew what going out with him was going to lead to, you would've said no. right?

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of injury, mentions of piercings, suggestive content (no smut).

word count: 7.4k+ words

a/n: this is ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 to my heaven is a bedroom series which uses characters and events from sam raimi's spider-man universe. you can read it by itself or with the rest of the series! i hope you guys like it! ♥

you were making your way out of your calculous class, dying to get home. the class itself wasn't bad: you made friends with the girls you sat with which made it more bearable. you were just ready to be home, cuddling with your cat.

you rushed out the building and down the steps as you fantasized about your bed. you couldn't wait to get home and out of these jeans. as good as they made your ass look, they didn't beat your pajamas. maybe you'd force get clover to watch a horror movie with you and bug.

you were so engulfed in your planning that you didn't realize someone calling your name. you looked in front of you to see harry. as you were coming out of the building, he must've been going in. he was standing below, a step ahead of you.

"princess coming out of her castle?" he teased with a smile.

"playboy looking for a new bunny?" you knew he didn't have any classes in this building.

he chuckled and shook his head.

"not quite, i've been looking for you, actually."

"you stalking me osborn?" you smirked.

"something like that, yeah. you're a hard person to get ahold of y/n" he admitted.

"what did you need?"

"i wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to the unity day festival with me? my father's company throws it so we would be on the balcony, away from everyone else. not that we have to be though, we could go down and do the stuff if you wanted to."

you smiled as you watched him explain himself, trying to convince you to go.

"did all the other girls you asked first reject you?" you asked, assuming you weren't his first choice.

"that depends on your answer. you would be all the girls i asked"

you stood corrected.

it couldn't hurt. you were gonna go with clover but you knew she would you leave you as soon as the guy she liked showed up. you didn't really want to be left by yourself, that'd be kinda sad.

"sure harry" you agreed.

"yeah?" he looked surprised.

"yeah. is there anything i should know beforehand?"

"we'll be with my father's employers and they're all business casual so i'll be in a suit, if you want to wear a dress" he said with a smile.

"okay. i'll meet you at your apartment like an hour before?"

"yeah, yeah that works"

"okay, see you" you said before going around harry and leaving him on the steps.

he watched you walk away looking like he had just won the lotto. he walked towards the building with a smile on his face before he paused and turned to away, reminding himself he didn't actually have a class in this building.

unity day rolled around a few days later, being on a saturday. a tv girl vinyl spun on your record player. bug laid in a little loaf as he watched you repeatedly disappear and eventually reemerge from your bathroom. he made himself quite comfortable at the edge of your bed, watching chaos ensue.

you, like any other girl, tended to leave your room in a tornado after you got ready. it was quite the process and who had the time to try to do everything neatly? not you. you were lucky if you remembered to cap your makeup before you left.

by the end of your natural disaster you were satisfied with how you looked.

you debated for a while on what color dress to wear, usually going with a something black or something red. this time you opted for black, assuming everyone else would probably be wearing bright colors for the festival aspect.

you had chosen a short, black dress. it had short sleeves and a straight neckline. there was a little bow in the middle of the neckline paired with detailing to make the upper half resemble a corset. the skirt flowed out, you didn't want anything to tight-fitting. you wore black tights under it for that same reason, not wanting to show too much skin because you'd probably be in a room with a bunch of old guys.

you shivered at the thought.

you paired it with some black heels to give you some extra height and gold jewelry. you debated on what to do with your hair.

up or down? up or down? up or down? both.

half up, half down. you made sure to slick the top half into a pony, curling the ends of you hair and pony for an extra touch. mascara, blush, and lip gloss would do. this wasn't a date or anything.

at least he didn't say it was.

you sprayed yourself with perfume and air kissed bug before grabbing your little purse and keys, making your way out of your room. you tried to quickly sneak out of the apartment but clover had peaked her head out of her room.

"you're leaving already? i thought we were gonna go together?" she called after you.

"nope, going with peter and harry. have fun with daniel! see you later!" you called before shutting the front door, using your key to lock it behind you.

you would've given her the heads up if you had seen her. you lived with the girl and felt like lately you only saw her when one of you was going out and the other one was coming in. her... situationship was taking up all her time. she wouldn't admit it, but you knew. she tried to hide it, but you knew. secrets were fine, you just needed to even the score a little.

you made your way down the street and walked towards peter and harry's apartment. you were grateful for the light wind and the short walk that made the walk in heels a bit more bearable.

as you rode up the elevator you started to become more nervous.

for some reason.

you shouldn't have been nervous. this was just hanging out with your friend and his best friend. no big deal. wait. harry never mentioned peter. he only mentioned you and him. peter might not even be going. you should've checked with peter first. why is it that you don't check with peter before coming over??

it was too late for all that now as you knocked on the door. thankfully, peter answered this time.

"y/n? hi, i didn't know you were coming over" peter said, confusion rolling off his tongue.

"you didn't?" you questioned.

"no i'm kidding. i definitely did" he said, rolling his eyes playfully as he let you in.

he closed the door behind you and led you into the apartment, towards the stairs.

"you can wait here. harry's almost done. harry, y/n!" peter yelled, grabbing his stuff as he headed towards the door.

"wait, you're not coming?" you asked.

"nope. well yeah, i'm gonna be going. just not with you guys. i'm gonna be working, jameson wants pictures for the paper. possibly, hopefully." he explained.

you nodded. you guys said your goodbyes before he left. not too long after you heard shuffling and footsteps, turning to see harry coming down the stairs.

"oh wow. y/n, you look beautiful" he smiled as he reached the bottom.

he was wearing a grey suit with a baby blue button up underneath. his dark blue, almost purple-looking, tie hung from the middle of his collar.

"you look good in a suit playboy" you taunted, making him roll his eyes playfully.

you weren't lying though, he really did.

"you ready to go?" he asked, a smile still on his lips. you nodded and he lead you towards the door, his hand hovering over the small of your back. he didn't want to push his luck too soon.

you two talked the whole car ride and he was starting to grow on you, a little. you could tell he was trying his best to make a good impression, to not come off too strong or too uninterested.

when you arrived he stopped at the front of the building, looking around for his father, you presumed.

boy were you wrong.

he was still talking to you, his brown eyes seeping into yours. you started to think maybe clover wasn't all that wrong. maybe a talking stage with harry wouldn't be too bad. maybe he wasn't too bad after all.

he was so caught up in your conversation he didn't hear the red-head who was calling his name with a big smile. she was quick to make her way over to him and embrace him in a hug.

"mj, hi" he smiled down at her when she finally pulled away from him.

what the hell?

"hi. sorry i'm late, traffic was terrible trying to get here."

"well i told you we could've picked you up on our way here" he told her.

we.

it was like a lightbulb went off for her and she finally realized that you existed here, before her.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry! i'm mary jane watson" she told you, holding her hand out to shake yours.

mary jane, as in peter's mary jane??

"this is y/n. she's friends with peter and i" harry introduced, you gave him a look at that last part.

was that even true?

"hi" you took her hand and shook it with a smile, glancing over at harry.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't confused, because you were. you told yourself this wasn't a date, it obviously wasn't, but harry had never mentioned anyone else being there. if anything you thought peter would be with you guys, not the girl he liked. what was she even doing here? why hadn't harry mentioned her coming?

this was all so weird. or were you making it weird...?

"come on, we should get upstairs" harry told the two of you.

mary jane nodded and followed his motion to head inside. you hesitated a bit, internally debating if you should've picked being ditched by clover instead of this. harry noticed your hesitation.

"you coming?" he asked as his eyes fell on you, holding out his hand. you gave him a small smile and took his hand as he lead you inside.

the three of you had taken the elevator up to the floor where all of the higher-ups were. harry had greeted quite a few people on your way in, his hand resting on the small of your back now. it was an obvious attempt at a silent apology, a statement that it was you he was interested in, not mary jane.

that still didn't give you an answer as to why she was here though.

harry had left you two to talk, saying that he was going to try and find his father. you could have been mad but, in all honesty, you didn't want to be introduced to his father. doing something like that would mean something and you didn't want that.

not yet, at least.

mary jane was actually pretty nice. she asked you about college and how you knew harry and peter. turns out she's an aspiring actress and she's been doing a few auditions. she said she had recently been rejected. you sympathized with the brutality of that world, mentioning your sister being involved in it.

you could see why peter liked her. there was a small sparkle in her eyes whenever she mentioned peter's name. you don't think she even noticed it herself, but you did. you helped him out every chance you got, mentioning how sweet peter was.

they'd end up together at some point.

before you realized, harry was back at your side.

"i couldn't find my father, i don't know where he's at. i tried calling him but i didn't get an answer" he said, frowning a bit.

"maybe he's just a little late. it's his company, i'm sure he'll be here soon" you offered.

he smiled at you, eyes glancing at your lips before he heard mj.

"look, i see peter!" she smiled, waving down at him.

you looked over the balcony to spot peter with his camera pointing up at you guys and he waved back. from you were he looked like a little ant yet she still managed to pick him out in the crowd.

mj excused herself for a moment, saying she was gonna go use the restroom. you and harry both nodded before she disappeared. you continued to look out at the people from the balcony, feeling harry's eyes on you. you were standing facing one another but he was the only one actually looking.

he had the perfect view of you, one that let him notice little things about you. like the ring of earrings along your earlobe. piercings one after the other up until the top, each hole filled with a gold earring.

"i'm sorry i didn't mention mj coming. it was kind of a last minute thing." he said.

you looked at him.

"are you trying to tell me i really was the first girl you asked?"

"you were the only girl i asked, y/n. mj asked me to come along because she's trying to see if she can talk to someone with connections at broadway. she called to ask me about it last night. i didn't want to tell you because i figured you wouldn't want to come."

he wasn't wrong.

"plus, i figured you meeting her might help pete out. he's been in love with her forever but hasn't made a move" he laughed.

"he doesn't want to make things awkward. it's cute, how in love with her is he is. she's in love with him too, you can tell" you smiled.

"you think so?" he asked.

you nodded.

"you can see it in people's eyes when they love someone or something. they tend to light up, their pupils dilate a little. your eyes will always give you away"

"yeah? and are my eyes giving me away yet?" he asked.

you suddenly realized out close to you he was. his face was just inches from yours as those brown eyes poured into yours. his eyes glanced at your lips again, like he was pleading.

upper hand, y/n.

"oh my gosh. that bathrooms here are so nice!" mj told you guys as she returned.

you created some distance between yourself and harry, leaving room for her between you guys. that was probably for the best because harry's eyes still hadn't left you.

"yeah?" you asked as she stood between you two.

"we should go inside, get drinks" harry said, reaching for you behind mj.

she turned around with a nod, walking on the right side of you as harry tried to subtly pull you closer to him on the left. as the three of you started to head inside you ran into a bald man in a wheelchair.

"oh, hi, mr. fargas" harry said.

"oh, harry" the man replied.

"have you seen my father around?" harry asked, leaning down towards the man.

the man's face faltered, like he was about to give harry bad news.

"well, i'm not sure if he's uh coming today" the told him.

you didn't like the feeling that lingered after he said that.

harry turned to you, grabbing your hand now as he started to go inside but stopped. you were about to protest as harry walked towards the balcony. you were right behind him, your hand still in his. that's when you saw it, something green fly towards you. it flew past you guys.

"what the hell was that?" harry said, his eyes still on the thing.

you watched the thing turn, coming right back towards you guys and slowly started to pull harry back.

"harry" you said, worry in your tone.

the thing was heading right towards you. harry stepped in front of you as he backed up. before anyone could do anything you watched the figure throw something before feeling the balcony start to shake. you heard the explosion before you felt it, various screams following immediately after.

the balcony floor started to crumble and as you tried to stepped back one of the higher-ups pushed past you, making you stumble forward. harry was quick to wrap his arm around you waist and pull you back against him, the both of you falling back onto the floor.

you heard screaming and looked up, seeing mj stuck on a piece of balcony that was slowly breaking off. harry pulled the both of you up onto your feet again, pushing you behind him as the figure circled back towards you guys again. it threw something else and you watched the higher-ups on the balcony disintegrate in front of your eyes. one of them was the bald guy harry has just spoken to.

harry pushed you behind him more and tried to reach out for mary jane but she was too far away. a piece of debris hit him over the head, knocking him out. you tried you best to hold him up but he was too much bigger than you. you sunk to the floor with him in your lap.

"harry?! harry??" you screamed, trying to wake him.

you looked up to see the green figure was rising behind mary jane now. her eyes followed your gaze as she turned to see it too.

"hello, my dear" a man's voice said.

she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

before the green man could do anything you saw a spider-man swing in, knocking the figure off his glider. he fell through a booth on the ground. you watched his glider fly through one of the balloon's, sinking to the floor.

you took the moment to look down and check if harry was still breathing which he thankfully was. your attention turned back to mary jane who was screaming for dear life as the piece of balcony she was on continued to break off of the rest.

spider-man swung towards her but just before he could grab her the figure grabbed him, pushing him into the window above you. the pieces shattered and you covered harry's face with yours.

you could hear the figure repeatedly bashing spider-man's head into the window. after a bit of tussling he fell onto the floor in front of you and reached for mary jane.

"watch out!" she yelled to him.

spider-man was quick to turn around and web the figure's face. he flipped backwards and ripped out a piece of the figure's glider. the figure seemed to stumble, his glider lacking balance as he flew off.

your eyes turned back to mary jane, yelling for her as the piece finally broke off of the balcony and she went over.

"hold on, mary jane!" spider-man yelled before diving after her.

wait. how the hell did he know her name?

you watched him swing away with mary jane in his arms, relief washing over you. you look out onto the crowd to see if you could find peter again but he was no where to be found.

weird. hopefully he ran to safety.

eventually, a first responder came to help you and harry. they got him up and the first thing he did was ask for you. they had to give him a little bandage where the debris hit him. he called a car to take you and him back to his apartment, trying to get ahold of his father the whole ride there. when you guys got there peter was already there.

"peter! omg!" you said throwing your arms around him.

harry was now on the phone with mj, making sure she was okay.

"hello to you too" peter smiled as you pulled away.

"i tried looking for you to see if you were okay but i couldn't find you" you told him as your eyes scanned over him for any injuries.

"i'm fine. i ran off the minute i saw that thing fly in" he admitted.

"its a good thing you did" you smiled.

harry appeared back at your side, off the phone with mary jane now.

"she's alright. she's just a little rattled"

"well at least spider-man was there to save her. he's incredible"

harry's face scrunched up.

"incredible? what do you mean he's incredible?" he questioned as he looked at you.

"what do you mean? he saved mary jane" you asked as you looked at him.

"yeah, yeah. come on, say goodnight to peter" he said, gesturing you up the stairs.

"goodnight, y/n" peter called, chuckling as he watched the two of you banter.

"what? harry i'm not staying over!" you argued as he practically pushed you up the stairs.

"yes you are. it's too late for you to walk home alone, especially after what just happened. you're staying the night." he said as he guided you into his room. you turned to him to protest.

"harry, i have to get home and feed my cat" you tried.

"don't you have a roommate? won't she do it?"

possibly. but you'd have to call her and you didn't know if you really wanted to do that.

"call her and let her know you're with me and peter. i'll drop you off first thing in the morning" he said, handing you his phone as he took off his jacket and went into his bathroom.

you sighed and dialed your apartment phone's number.

"hello?" clover answered.

"hey, it's me" you said, sitting on the edge of harry's bed and taking off your heels.

"oh my god. are you alright?!" she questioned.

"i'm alright. are you alright?" you asked.

harry emerged from the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as he watched you.

"yeah, we're alright"

we. as in her and daniel.

"listen, i'm at peter and harry's. they don't want me to go home right now so i'm being forced to stay the night. could you make sure to feed bug and give him water please?" you asked.

"is it peter wanting you to stay or harry?" clover asked. you could already tell you would be interrogated the minute you got home.

"both. can you feed bug?" you asked again.

"yeah of course. i got it. have fun okay? and use protection! love you!"

"love you" you rolled your eyes before hanging up and handing the phone back to harry.

"bug? as in the bug? as in spider-man?" harry smirked.

"that's one reason why, yeah"

he chuckled as he went over to his dresser, opening a drawer. you watched him pull out a t-shirt and a pair of plaid boxers.

"here, if you wanna take a shower. the boxers are brand new and the shirt's clean" he said as he handed them to you. he disappeared from his room momentarily, coming back with a new body wash and lotion in his hand.

"may gave peter some tropical body wash and lotion that he has yet to use" he said before handing those to you too.

you looked up at him as he went into his bathroom again, motioning for you to follow him.

"there's a lock on the door, if that helps. i put out a fresh towel for you, the red one. mine is green. same thing with the toothbrushes. you can use anything you want in here alright?" he said before turning to you.

"thanks" you nodded with a smile.

he nodded before heading out and closing the door behind him. you smiled to yourself at how attentive he was being.

no. no. no. upper hand, y/n. upper hand.

you turned on the shower and got yourself undressed, putting your hair up. you stepped in and let the hot water drench you body. the tropical body wash was actually pretty nice, you mentally reminded yourself to tell peter to ask may where she got it from. you washed off your face, getting off the little makeup you had left.

you wrapped the towel around you as you stepped out of the shower. you stood in front of the sink, opening the mirrored cabinet. you were looking for deodorant but your eyes first landed on the box of condoms, making you roll your eyes. you found the deodorant and used it, closing the cabinet after. the boxers and t-shirt were baggy but you didn't mind. you let down your hair, brushing it out with the little hairbrush harry had. you silently thanked god that your hair was straightened right now or else this brush wouldn't have cut it. you finally brushed your teeth before opening the door and stepping back into harry's room.

he had changed, now wearing plaid pajama pants and a grey tee. he was fixing his bed until he turned around to see you. he felt his heartbeat pick up a little, seeing you in his clothes. did that... turn him on? yep, it definitely did. your nipples poked through his shirt, making it evident that you didn't have on a bra. he thought you wouldn't but he convinced himself to push the thought away and stop being a creep.

he cleared his throat.

"i uh, i made the bed for you. i just washed everything the other day" he said.

for you?

"are you not gonna sleep here?" you questioned.

"well, no. i'll give you your space and sleep downstairs" he said.

"who said i wanted space?"

"well i just assumed-

"harry, this is your bed. i'm not gonna kick you out. we can sleep together, it's fine. or would you rather me sleep with peter?" you asked.

"n-no! i want to sleep with you. wait, that didn't come out right" he said, screwing his eyes shut and making you laugh.

"come on" you smiled as you got into his bed. he shut the light's off and got in next to you. you both laid on your back as you stared up at the ceiling.

silence filled his room for a while.

"you never answered my question earlier" he sad quietly, turning on his side and looking at you.

"about what?" you asked, looking at him too.

"do my eyes give me away?"

oh. that question.

"i don't know yet. you're hard to read" you answered.

that was partially a lie. harry's eyes told you just how bad he wanted you, you just couldn't tell what exactly he wanted from you. you kept telling yourself he just wanted to hook up with you, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that said otherwise. that must've been in your head.

"thanks for staying with me earlier" he said.

"thanks for not dying on me" you smiled.

you guys were close again, his face probably an inch away from yours. his eyes seemed to keep finding their way back to your lips. he lean a bit, trying to feel out if you would let him finally kiss you.

"can i?" he whispered.

this was all getting too serious. he was getting too close. he was getting to be too much but why weren't you moving away? why weren't you stopping him?

you nodded instead.

"words, y/n. i need to know you're sure" he whispered. his hand had found it's way to your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek.

"yes"

he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. it didn't take much longer for his lips to start moving against yours. the hand that was on your face slipped down to your hip, pulling you against him. you opened your mouth a bit more and his tongue took the opportunity to swipe over your bottom lip.

upper hand! upper hand!

you pulled away from him.

"goodnight harry" you turned onto your side, your back pressed against his front.

"goodnight y/n" he said. his eyes lingered on you as you fell asleep.

the next morning you were still pressed against harry. his arm now wrapped around your waist, hand splayed out over your stomach, under your his shirt. he was the first one to wake up, glancing over at the clock.

he didn't move, scared to wake you up. he debated on moving his hand once he realized where it was. as much as he liked this, he didn't want you to feel like he was crossing a line. he slowly pulled his hand away but his fingers grazed over the bar of metal poking through your belly button.

fuck, you had it pierced.

jesus christ, he needed to get it together. you were too close to him for him to be getting turned on right now. he pulled his hand away from your body, waking you up in the process which wasn't what he was trying to do.

"morning, princess" he said, quietly. you hummed in response.

"what time is it?" you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"almost ten" he answered.

you groaned.

he chuckled at your lack of enthusiasm.

"come on, i promised i'd take you home" he said.

harry had given you sweats and a hoodie to wear home. he dropped you off at what he thought was your apartment but was really a block away.

upper hand, check.

you slowly unlocked the door to your apartment with your keys, it was quiet and clover's door was closed. this either meant she wasn't home or was tangled up with daniel. whatever it was, you weren't gonna risk sticking around to find out. you grabbed bug, headed into your room, leaning against your now closed door.

what the fuck was yesterday...

a few days had passed since you last saw harry which was perfectly fine with you. peter hadn't mentioned anything about him, even better. the less you knew or saw of him, the better. he would only distract you and you couldn't afford any distractions right now. as it was, chemistry was kicking your ass. peter had helped you out a few times but it was still a constant struggle for you. which is why you had been sitting at your kitchen island for what felt like forever.

clover had gone out for the night. she wouldn't tell you with who but you knew it was with daniel.

ugh, you couldn't stand him.

which meant she wouldn't be home until late. this was the perfect time for you to study and that's what you had been doing, well trying to do. your notes had been spread out across the surface, your textbook laid open in front of you as you tried to understand.

it seemed like the harder you tried, the more it felt like you were reading a foreign language. you watched as bug walked across the island, sitting himself right in front of you with his tail swaying. whoever made it a requirement for biology majors to take chemistry deserved jail time. actually, they deserved more than that. they deserved a lifetime in he-

you heard the telephone start ringing. you silently thanked god for the distraction as you got up to go grab it.

"hello?" you answered.

"hi y/n"

you smiled, rolling your eyes as you heard your older sister's voice.

"hi chas"

chasity was six years older than you. she went to school for fashion in new york but was quickly recruited for modeling. after a few years in the modeling industry she started styling. anything fashion had chasity's name written all over it. when you and clover moved in she made it her business to make it to new york to help you guys move in and decorate.

"have you been avoiding my calls?" she asked, you could practically hear her smirk through the phone.

"no, why do you say that?"

you usually spoke to chasity at least once a week but you just hadn't had the time. whenever she called you, you were busy and whenever you called her, she was busy. the time difference didn't help either, considering she's been in london the past few months.

"because the last few times i've called, you haven't answered. i had to speak to clover to get the 411 on you"

oh jesus christ.

"there is no 411 on me. i've just been busy with classes. chemistry is kicking my ass"

that wasn't a lie.

"what about your smart friend? what was his name...?" she asked.

"peter. he tries to help me all the time but i feel bad taking it. i don't want him to start to feel like i see him as a tutor more than a friend"

"and what about his friend?"

what the fuck. how did she-

"did clover tell you?" you asked, rolling your eyes and shifting the phone to your other ear as you leaned back against the counter.

"i told you i asked her what was going on with you. i didn't expect to hear that you went on a date. why haven't i heard about this cute boy who's interested in you?"

you could hear she was frowning.

"maybe because it's not true or important chas" you sighed, mentally reminding yourself to yell at clover later.

"what do you mean it's not true?"

"he got me a hot chocolate and tried to walk me home. then he asked me to go unity day with him and almost died. that was it"

not entirely...

"that's basically two dates!" she protested.

"whatever helps you sleep at night" you said sarcastically.

"y/n, i'm serious. this could mean something for you, something that isn't just school and you cat" she said.

"would it do me any good?" you scoffed.

just as chasity had started to rant about you needing to put yourself out there and whatnot, you heard a knock at your door. peter was supposed to be dropping off some notes he had borrowed, he missed the last lecture. you went over to the door and opened it to see harry.

oh great, just what you needed.

harry leaned against the doorway, a smile on his face the minute his eyes met yours.

you stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside quietly while pointing to the phone against your ear. the last thing you needed was chasity to find out the boy she was ranting to you about was in your apartment.

"anyway, this isn't what i called you for" she said.

"so what did you call for chas?" you asked as you settled yourself back against the counter. harry stood beside the island, watching you.

"to tell you that i'll be there in two weeks!" she said excitedly.

"seriously? for how long?" you questioned with a smile.

"a few weeks. i want to be able to spend halloween and thanksgiving with you."

you smiled at the fact that she wanted to spend the holidays with you and the fact that bug was doing his own inspection on harry. he had position himself at harry's feet, looking up at him with his tail slowly swaying.

"great because clover's parents are gonna be in town for thanksgiving too and they've been asking how you were. are you gonna stay here?"

"no, alex has a place. we get in the 28th. i'll let you know the exact time as it gets closer okay?"

alexander was her boyfriend fiancé. they met when chasity was modeling at some show in london. they were friends for a while and he not-so-secretly pined after her until he finally asked her on a date.

"okay chas"

you said your goodbyes and hung up the phone. bug had now made his way over to you, sitting at your feet and eyeing harry from there.

"hi" harry smiled.

"hi harry. how did you find out where i lived?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

his eyes ran over you as he contemplated how he wanted to answer. bug decided this was too boring for him and made his way towards your room. harry cleared his throat and your eyes narrowed as he spoke.

"peter told me"

"peter told you or you asked?" you questioned, cocking your head to the side a bit.

"both. he told me he had to bring you back your notes and i asked to do it for him. didn't know i would find out you had me drop in front of some random building" he said.

harry set your notebook on the counter with the rest of your notebooks, waiting for a reaction out of you. he didn't get much of one.

"its not random, its right around the corner"

"that's not my point y/n and you know it" he said, staring at you.

"guess the cat's out of the bag" you shrugged.

"are you mad at me or something?" he asked.

you shook your head.

"do you want something? water?" you asked him as you opened up the fridge.

harry felt the room get hotter as you turned your back to him.

the boyshorts you had on were cute, sure. they were baby blue with white stripes. there was a white band at the top and three little buttons, making them resemble boxers.

cute wasn't the word harry thought of though. not when they hugged your skin like they were apart of it. and definitely not when the curve of your ass made the stripes curve with it. his imagination was running wild and you had barely spoken to him.

"no, thanks, i'm alright." harry answered.

you turned around, closing the fridge behind you and setting a bottle of water in front of him anyway. your eyes locked on him as you stood in front of him.

"why are you here harry?"

"to give you back your notes" he answered.

"well i got them back. now what?"

this must be new for him. from what you had heard girls were practically throwing themselves at him. most of them did it for the money, but if they weren't, harry was gorgeous enough for them to do it anyways. his ego probably weighed more than his and your body weight put together.

"i wanted to see you" he said.

"you saw me. now what?"

he chuckled and looked away from you for a moment. apparently, you still had the upper hand here.

"what do i have to do here y/n? i feel like i'm missing something." he admitted.

"do you even know what you want, harry? because i don't think you do" you said.

"i want you" he answered.

"no you don't" you rejected.

"i'm pretty sure i do y/n"

"you want to fuck me. there's a difference" you explained.

"i want to do that too but that's not my priority" he said, his eyes glazed over you, landing back on your eyes.

the room seemed to be getting hotter.

"you barely know me, harry" you pointed out.

he stepped closer to you.

"i'm trying to but you're not letting me, y/n"

"i don't have the time for a relationship harry" you said lied.

"you want to keep things casual? because i can do that" he countered.

"i'm not gonna be one of your fuck buddies" you shook you head.

he was invading your space now.

"then don't be. i'm not asking to fuck you" he whispered.

"so you don't want to fuck me?"

"don't try and twist my words, y/n. not when you know i do" he rebuttaled.

all you could do was look at him. there was close to no room between the two of you. he towered over you, those eyes that once resembled honey were now dark and glossy.

"i'm sorry to disappoint" you said, cocking your head to the side with a smirk.

"don't be, we'll get there eventually" he suddenly seemed so confident.

why did he seemed like he had the upper hand now??

"eventually? so you're willing to wait until i feel like i'm ready??" you questioned.

"i'm a patient guy, y/n. especially with things i really want"

his hands had now found their way to your waist, pulling closer against him if that was even possible.

"that's what every guy says and no guy has ever lived up to it" you told him.

wait a minute-

jesus christ, you were a virgin. you said that thinking it would scare him away but it was doing quite the opposite. his pants were suddenly feeling tighter than they were before those words left your mouth.

"i'm not like other guys, am i?" he asked.

"no. you might just be worse"

he was pressing you into the kitchen island now.

when did he get so close? and more importantly, when did you stop caring?

"you've never done it before, have you?" he asked.

you shook you head.

fuck. he shouldn't have asked that. he should've just stayed curious because it wasn't really help his pants situation.

you couldn't deny the pool that was forming in your panties. you wished you could say it wasn't but it was. you wished you could say you didn't want this.

at first, you didn't, but then you did.

"and we're not going to today, at least not that far" you told him.

"how far are you willing to let me go then princess?"

"until i feel like you're getting more than you deserve"

his cock twitched hearing that.

"you're gonna regret this, you know that?" he asked. this had to be just as hard for you as it was for him. it just had to be.

"maybe i already am" you said.

you took one of his hands from your hip. you guided it down, between your legs. making sure to watch his face as you pressed it against the puddle that was forming. even through your shorts, he could feel it. his breath hitched as he pressed two fingers against you.

"damn it, y/n. you can't just do that" he sighed. those pleading eyes were back.

"why? isn't this what you wanted? we can stop, if you want" you whispered.

"if you were anyone else i'd take you right here. right against the counter or on it. whichever one you want" he said, his head pressing against yours.

"i'd like that, but no" you said before pulling away and pushing yourself onto the counter.

he stood between your legs, instinctively chasing how close you once were to him. his hand founds their way to your thighs now as he looked at you.

"so this is the game we're playing then?" he asked.

"why? does that make you wanna quit?" you challenged.

"no, i'm game. do you have rules for this game we're playing?" he asked.

you thought about it for a moment.

"you can't fuck anyone else if you want to fuck me. i don't like sharing, harry"

"yeah i noticed that the other day with mj. done, keep going" he agreed.

"you need to get tested before you even think about doing anything with me. you've been with a lot of girls and as cute as you are, i don't feel like catching anything." you tell him.

if he really wanted, you would get tested too. just to be fair.

"done. anything else princess?"

"you have to actually put in an effort, okay? i'm not just gonna be your fucktoy." you told him.

"you want me to make it official?" he asked you.

wait, huh?

"you okay with becoming my girlfriend, y/n?"

he couldn't mean that.

"harry osborn doesn't do relationships" you pointed out.

"i do now, i do for you. is that alright? will you let me be your boyfriend?" he asked.

you looked at him for a moment. a part of you was waiting for him to take it back but he wasn't backing down.

"you're serious about this?" you asked.

"swear on my father" he nodded.

"you have any rules you want me to follow?" you asked him before answering.

"i don't like sharing either y/n. same thing goes for you" he told you.

you nodded.

"and i'm gonna want you to go out with me"

"you mean when your dad has business events?" you asked.

he nodded.

"galas, charity events, weddings, all of it. i'll buy you whatever you want for them- hell, i'll buy you whatever you want in general but you have to go with me. unless you have school or stuff"

"does that sound fair to you princess?" he asked

you nodded.

"you'll be my girlfriend then?" he asked, wanting an official answer.

"you're gonna regret this, you know that right?"

"i'll take that chance. answer the question y/n"

"i'll be your girlfriend harry" you agreed.

he flashed you his teeth before leaning in to kiss you.

so much for no distractions...

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