— YOU comically turned the corner, the cold coffee you had bought spilling as you sprinted down the hallway towards Organic Chemistry. You had never been late before; you held perfect attendance, turned in every single lab report on time, and even bought your professor a mug that said, "It's O.K, oxidants happen."
You recognized now that it was a bit of overkill.
So when you swung open the heavy wooden door to see the heads of everyone in the room turn towards the noise, you just about lost it.
"Professor Stark, I am so unbelievably sorry, my lock got jammed at my apartment, and I —"
"Just take your seat next to Peter, Y/N." The professor grumbled as he sharply gestured toward the empty seat in the first row, right next to a smiling Peter Parker.
You nodded, and quickly made your way over to the seat, ripping open your bag to yank out a slightly-destroyed notebook. You had just grabbed your blue pen when someone quietly cleared their throat;
"In the eight million years I've seemed to know you, I would never count you as someone to be late."
You slowly turned to the left, where Peter shot you a wink, expertly twisting a pen between his nimble fingers. Not that you noticed they were nimble, or anything.
"Parker, do you ever shut up?"
Peter shook his head. "Nope, it's one of my many, many talents."
You felt your eyeballs roll into your head as you desperately tried to focus back in on Professor Stark's lecture. To put it lightly, you strongly disliked Peter Parker.
Okay, fine, you loathed him.
You hated him when he spilled Spaghetti O's on your favorite dress in the 6th grade. You hated him when he was made valedictorian over you and was late to his own speech. And, you hated him for that stupid, stupid little crooked smile he had every time he answered a question correctly.
When you got into NYU, your dream school, the only other person that was supposed to attend from Midtown was Cindy Moon; so you could say you were surprised when on the first day, a cup of coffee was knocked out of your hand by Peter Parker sprinting to class. You figured you just had to stay away from him for three more years. That was the well thought-out plan, up until the two of you were named as partners for the second semester of Organic Chemistry.
You just still couldn't piece together that after 15 years of knowing one another, you were still stuck with him, in the one place you had hoped to get away, to finally establish yourself as the smartest, the brightest. Being in the shadow of Peter Parker was not cutting it anymore.
You recalled the other night, when over a midnight dinner of Indian food, you had described Peter to Cindy as a rash. A really itchy, annoyingly smart rash. Cindy was coy enough to respond by pointing out the fact that he also happened to be fucking gorgeous, and honestly not all bad. She wasn't half wrong. The thing was, Peter had never really been outright mean or rude to you, besides what you would call 'friendly competition'. He was just always there, interrupting, winning, whatever verb you wanted to use. Whatever you did, Peter was there, somehow doing it better.
You shook Peter out of her thoughts, taking a long sip of coffee as the professor illustrated the Bohr model on his chalkboard. As coffee slightly spilled onto your skirt, you desperately tried to ignore Peter's silent guffaw.
"... Now, as I discussed last class, I thought that a project would better suit the class instead of a written midterm," Professor Stark rattled on. "I will take care to remind you that the topic you and your partner have agreed upon needs to be finalized by me before you begin preparations. Please see me over the course of the week to do this."
Stark’s silence indicated he had finished his lecture, and a rustle of papers and the screech of seats indicated the mad dash to whatever class was next. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and fought the urge to brutually bend the finger that had touched you. There Peter stood, his hands folded over the straps of his backpack, his sweater haphazardly pulled over a collared shirt.
"Okay, we need to agree on a proposal soon." Peter's brow furrowed as his deep-thinking look crossed his face.
You twisted the ring on your finger, trying to think chemistry-related thoughts. "Okay, what about the preparation of soybean milk compared to cow? It should be easy enough, focusing on fermentation, the effects of temperature and —"
"Milk? Really Y/L/N?" Peter cut across her words. "You know I'm lactose intolerant. Not cool."
You snorted at the apprehensive look on Peter's face. "I'm so sorry, Peter. I didn't think to account for fucking natural selection choosing for you to shit your brains out after having a bagel."
"Okay, okay, okay." Peter held his hands out in front of him in protest. "What about fingerprinting? The use of bio-chromatic powder? Because I've done a project like that before that yielded really great results."
It was your turn to display apprehension. "Sure, C.S.I Miami. We did that in high school, Peter. I don't know about you, but I would like to actually get a good grade in this class."
Peter scoffed, his face hardening as he stared back at you. "Fine, whatever. What if we met up in the library tonight, decided on a topic, and turned it in to Stark tomorrow during office hours?"
"Get it done in one fell swoop," you mumbled in agreement. "I can get with that, Parker. What time?"
Peter shrugged. "You're a busy woman, you decide."
You had to physically stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head, at this point afraid they would permanently stay there.
"6 tonight. Don't be late, okay? The new episode of Love Island comes on at 11, and if it gets spoiled, I will not hesitate to castrate yo."
A few hours later, you were settled at a table in a private study room, white plaster walls surrounding you as you drummed your pen on the faux wood.
It was 6:06, and Peter was late.
You almost got up. Almost. But you were stubborn, and decided that if he wanted to be late, then he would also want his name omitted from their project. Let the punishment fit the crime.
You steadily got to work, pulling out your laptop and the books you checked out. With the Harry Potter soundtrack playing in your ears, and your eyes going fuzzy from all the chemical equations scratched onto the notebook paper, you didn't even notice someone sit next to you.
"Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing here?" You shouted as you turned to see Tom seated next to you, his earbuds in his ears. He turned to you and slowly removed one.
"Y/N, this is a library. You shouldn't shout." He murmured as he leant towards you.
"You're a little bitch, Parker. You weren't on time, even after I explicitly asked you to be! It's like talking to a brick wall with you."
Peter checked his watch.
"It's 7:02. I'm pretty sure you're just extremely early."
"We agreed on six." You whispered through gritted teeth."
"Well," Peter clicked his tongue, "That's a pickle. Good thing I'm here then. So, fingerprinting?"
You could've sworn there was steam coming out of your ears. This kid, this idiot, has been one-upping you since the dawn of time. You didn't want to make a scene, but you hadn't been this angry in a while.
"What on this floating pile of rock makes you think that you can be this fucking disrespectful? Peter, the world doesn't revolve around you. It's like the valedictorian speech all over again."
Peter let out a chuckle.
"Well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you what I was doing when I was late, I mean —"
You slammed your laptop closed as you stood up.
"I don't care, Parker. You have always been there, just nagging at my existence like a little fucking gnat. I am more responsible than you, more respectful than you, and smarter than you. I'm doing this project in the way I want to, because I want to be proud of the work I get done in this class. Understand?"
You finished your speech. At this point you were red in the face, pieces of hair falling out of your pony tail, and even a bead of sweat rolling down your forehead.
Peter was silent, his eyes wide as he stared. His lips were moving, as if they were trying to think of something snarky to respond with, but nothing was coming out.
You sniffed, politely tucked the pieces of hair behind you ears and sat down. Reopening your computer, you could feel his eyes on you as you shared the document with him. From there silence ensued.
Three hours of wordless work later, your fingers had started to cramp, but the project proposal was done. As you packed up your stuff, you could see Peter out of the corner of your eye, repeatedly running his fingers through his hair. A nervous habit.
"So, 11 tomorrow in Stark's office?" Peter's voice came out raspy, due to the prolonged period of silence.
You gave him a sharp nod, threw your backpack on, and made for the study room door. You placed your hand on the handle, and began to turn, but it didn't move. You tried again, jiggling it to no avail.
At this point Peter stood up, scooting past you to try. He viciously moved the handle, almost breaking it off when he gave up.
"They couldn't have..." You started.
"What? No. I mean," Peter scoffed, "The library doesn't close until 11. It's 10:15."
"What if they close this floor earlier?" You mumbled. Peter gave a half-hearted shrug, a defeated look on his face as he plopped back down in his chair.
You let out a noise of frustration, and continued to jiggle the handle for about 5 minutes, until Peter yelped, "Y/N, stop. It's locked. Just sit down."
You glared at him, even though you knew he was right. You finally sat down, pushing your glasses up onto your hair and rubbing your eyes. You were exhausted, emotionally and mentally, and were really looking forward to going back to your dorm, microwaving popcorn, and crying over British people breaking up with one another.
So there you were, sitting in silence. If it wasn't for Peter ferociously drumming his knee against the table, you could've heard a pin drop.
"Can you please stop doing that? It is infuriating!" You spat as Peter comically rolled his eyes.
"Sure, Y/L/N. Whatever you say."
You both dipped back into silence, randomly clicking and closing tabs on your computers, trying to do anything but look at one another. It was infuriating, how close he was seated to you. You could hear his breath, his nails drumming softly on the hard wood table. It felt too close for comfort.
"You're breathing too loud." You murmured through gritted teeth.
Peter rolled his eyes, flipping you the bird.
"God, you are infuriating." You snapped at him.
Peter's eyes narrowed. "You're the infuriating one, Y/L/N. Why are you so fucking angry with me? Seriously, what is your problem?
"My problem is you, you douche-snozzle." You spat. Peter's eyebrows raising. "You have put me in a constant state of pissed off since 6th grade! Why is it that you had to do everything I've done? It's like you're fucking obsessed with me, Parker. You can't keep away from me to save your life, you are —"
"Shut up, Y/N." Peter began repeating as you both talked over one another.
"CONSTANTLY a grade-A pain in my ass. Yet, there's something about you, something I can't shake. I don't know what it is but —"
"Shut UP."
"Everywhere I go, you're there, giving me that annoying ass smirk when you lips curl up and it makes me so fucking —"
And suddenly, you were cut off. Your brain turned to mush, and the only thing you could register is that Peter's lips were pressed against yours, his hands grabbing your face as if it was the one thing keeping him stable.
Your lips moved in perfect harmony, as if it was second nature. All you could feel was the collar of his shirt bending as your hands looped around his neck. All you could smell was black coffee and that interesting pine cologne you remember him wearing in sophomore year. All you could sense was the urgency between you two, as if a sink had become unplugged and the true feelings you shared came rushing to fruition.
As the kiss became more intense, your teeth collided and clacked against one another. You and Peter both bolted back from one another, your eyes wide with surprise, fear, and another emotion you couldn't place until you looked back to his lips.
Lust.
This time, to Peter's surprise, you grabbed ahold of him, catapulting yourself into his arms. Peter's hands quickly snaked around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His hands slowly moved down to your ass, gripping it tightly, making you let out a moan you didn't know you were holding in. In that moment, you felt Peter's energy change. His lips trailed down and along your jawline, making their way to the sweet spot right under your ear.
"Peter..." his name exited your mouth like a prayer. Peter hummed against your neck, loving the effect he had on you. As one hand kept hold of your ass, the other slithered up until it gripped your neck, pushing you away from him for a moment.
Peter couldn't believed his eyes. Your glasses had fallen off the top of your head, your eyes were dark with pure lust, your lips blushed and swollen, opening and closing due to your restricted windpipe. Sure, he had imagined you two together since he knew what being together meant. You were so incredibly smart, ruthlessly intelligent, and more deserving than anyone else in the entire world. There was a small part of him that envied you, but a larger part that knew that getting someone like you, someone so fucking incredible, would be harder than any test in the entire world.
"Who would've thought that I could've ever rendered you speechless, huh?" Peter taunted. He clicked his tongue as you tried to inch closer to his face again. "All these years, Y/N, bickering about the smallest things, trading insults, snapping at one other for the stupidest of things. When we could've been doing this."
"Maybe if you would've made a move instead of pissing me off, this could've started earlier."
Small smiles crept up on both of your faces. That seventeen-year-long tension had broken, leaving two incredibly horny chem majors locked in a room together.
"Well, if it's any consolation, you are quite frightening. How could I have predicted you even wanting to be with me like this?"
You began to become weary at the time that had passed since his lips were on yours.
"No more predicting, Parker. Are you going to show me how obsessed you are with me or not?"
Peter raised an eyebrow at this. "Don't worry too much, Y/N. When I'm done, you won't be able to utter a word, let alone a single insult."
With that, Peter brought you back to his lips, this time her bottom lip between his as he nipped at it. You writhed at this, thinking that there was no way in hell that Peter Parker was making you feel this way.
Your hips began to move against him, making Peter mumble incoherently. His hands began sneaking under your shirt, and he momentarily stopped kissing you to wordlessly confirm it was okay. Your nod signified his hands to move up. Peter began to bring your shirt over your head, his eyes falling upon your breasts. His eyes softened, and looked back up at you.
"So... stunning..."
His hands slid up, grasping at the back of your bra, and instead of unhooking it, Peter (accidentally) tore it. It slid off of you, both of your faces in absolute awe. In that moment, as weird as it was (and it was really weird), you continued as you were, his thumbs brushing lightly over your nipples.
"Fuck, Parker. Oh my god."
Peter's mouth made their way to where his thumb was, lightly sucking as he watched your face contort in ecstasy. Your moans became louder, incoherent words spilling from your lips, driving Peter insane.
"Cant't even stop talking when I mark you..." he smiled against your skin, goosebumps popping up on your arms at his words. "Put it to use, and keep it shut for me."
You obeyed, and whimpered through closed lips as his mouth stayed on you, while his hand trailed down to your core. Peter could feel how aroused you were, but he wasn't going to make it easy.
"What do you want, Y/N? Open that mouth, and tell me."
Your breath was shaky at the sight of him. His hair disheveled, his shirt crumpled, his eyes completely focused on you. You were too enamored with the pure sexiness he oozed to respond.
Peter pushed his thumb over her bottom lip, and into your mouth. You began to suck, Peter groaning at the sight of you completely succumbed to him.
"Tell me what you need, pretty girl. Use your words."
"Please, Peter."
"Please, what?" Peter taunted, knowing you having to beg for what you wanted was driving your usual dominant personality crazy.
"Fucking touch me. Fuck me. Whatever. Just please, no more teasing," you whispered, as you could feel Peter twitch under you.
"Can't promise any such thing." Peter murmured as his hand pressed against your heat. His nimble fingers began to unbutton your jeans sliding them quickly down your thighs, his mouth becoming dry at the purple piece of fabric that covered what could only be the most delicious thing in the entire world.
You held your breath as he began to slide your underwear down, placing you in your most vulnerable state. "Jesus fuck, Y/N. If you could see yourself right now... Aphrodite would be threatened by you."
A laugh escaped from your mouth at his incredulous statement. "Peter, I appreciate the compliment, but that is just straight up false."
Peter's eyes darkened at your self-deprecating words. "You have no idea of the effect you have on others, Y/N. Why do you think I joined AV Club? The Chemists Honor Society? For the resume? No, I joined for you. To be surrounded by your knowledge, by the beauty you exude from the inside and outside. Never talk about yourself as if you aren't worthy to be worshipped."
Your cheeks burned at his words. His eyes met yours once more as he began to press feathery kisses down your thighs, nipping at the soft skin as you felt heat pool in your stomach. You couldn't control the noises coming out of your mouth, and were completely at Peter's mercy.
Peter finally licked a stripe up to your clit, where his tongue quickly became your favorite thing about him. It was like he was painting the most beautiful picture in the world, the way he ate you out.
"Such a good girl for me, so patient... you taste like fucking heroin."
He then entered two digits into you, stretching you out as you let out such a guttural noise that it almost made Peter finish. You could feel his experience bringing you closer, and yet he still taunted you with stopping every time he got close.
"Fuck... you... Parker." You stuttered as his smile widened as he continuously dipped his fingers in and out of your core.
"I would totally respond in the same way, but well, I am going to fuck you."
Peter then quickly ripped off his shirt, your hands getting a mind of their own as they found themselves feeling the deep ridges of Peter's frame. He was built like a marble statue, and you could've sworn he was carved by Michelangelo himself. She felt herself tense up when she was reminded how much she was bothered by him, and he noticed.
"It must kill you to be infatuated with me, right pretty girl? So smart, yet a single finger inside you makes you lose your head. You love the way I make you feel, don't you?"
You shyly nodded and held your breath as he continued to pump his fingers, what felt like fireworks coursing through your veins.
"But you hate that I'm the one doing it."
To your dismay, he stopped his movements and unbuckled his belt, his pants falling down as he stood there, his dick protruding in his boxers. You were surprised when you practically drooled at the sight. Peter then let his dick free, and you watched as precum dripped from the tip.
"Do you want this?"
"Yes."
"I have to know you're 100% in, love," the nickname dropped from his lips, and you chose to ignore it and vigorously nod your head.
Peter lined himself up with your entrance, the tip teasing you in the worst way possible. All you could do was stare into his eyes, infatuated wit the way they raked over you like if he looked away, he would never be able to see you like this for him again. Distracted, you let out a string of curse words as Peter bottomed out in you, both of your faces contorting in pure ecstasy.
"Holy fuck, Y/N, you're so good. Too good for me, my pretty girl."
"Please, Peter, faster," you moaned out. He began to pick up the pace, hitting places you didn't even know he could hit. You couldn't speak, let alone breathe, because it was too fucking good. You watched as he grasped you hips, and ferociously brought both your legs over his shoulders.
"FUCK, Peter, oh my god, it's so good, jesus christ —"
"I want to hear you fucking scream my name, Y/N," Peter panted out as he repeated slammed into you, a sheen of sweat coating his face and chest. "I want to feel you fucking shake under me. I want you to fucking submit to me."
You practically sobbed under him, the sex twisting your brain to the point where it couldn't conceive a thought. You felt heat pool faster now, and could only beg him to keep going.
"Please, Peter, please make me cum, I'll do anything, please."
Peter's hand snaked around your throat, applying light pressure, sending you into a whole separate state of euphoria. "You are a fucking goddess, Y/N. Mine. No one, nothing could compare."
"Fuck, Peter, I'm going to —"
"Me —fuck— too"
And with three more deep strokes, both of you were sent into oblivion. You could feel your body shake, your eyes rolling back into your head as Peter did everything he could to keep himself from screaming. You both laid on the table, breathing heavily, Peter still buried deep inside you with his head nestled in the crook of your neck. You could feel his rapid heartbeat, the sweat coating his body, his natural scent mixed in with the cologne.
You would never admit this to him, but it was heaven.
Peter pulled out, pressing a deep kiss to your lips, and pulling back to look at you and gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
As he began to dig through his backpack, you heard him say, “you have no idea how much power you hold, Y/N.” He appeared with a red t-shirt, handing it to you as he started buttoning up his own.
“To help clean you off. Don’t worry, we can hop in the shower once I get you to my place.”
You raised your eyebrows and let out a laugh. “Oh, so now I’m going to your place? And how would I come with you, as we are both locked in this tiny room? Remember that predicament?” You giggled as he smiled and rolled his eyes at you.
You began pulling your clothes back on when you heard a “thwip” and the sound of the door creaking open. There Peter stood, fully dressed, holding your backpack along with his. You whipped around to see the door opened just slightly, and turned back around to see Peter whistling, putting your glasses on his face.
“You could've unlocked that door if you wanted to, couldn't you, Mr. Parker?
“Sure, Ms. Y/L/N, but I would've been crazy to say no to spending time in a stuffy study room. I have my ways.”
With that, Peter held out a hand, his glasses still crookedly perched on his nose. You tore them off his face, placed it on yours, and grabbed his hand.
And that’s how you ended up with an A in chemistry. Not just the school kind.