Chapter Text
Afternoons like these were one of the many perks of having co-ed dorms at ESU. Afternoons spent with his two favourite people, studying, watching movies, talking shit, attempting to cook on their tiny stovetop. Today, mid-terms were looming, and Peter, Harry and MJ had agreed to attempt a minimum two hours of studying without the always inevitable distractions that tore them away from their textbooks. Granted, studying separately would probably be more productive, but leaving MJ by herself just felt wrong.
The library was another option, but Peter usually dodged these suggestions from Harry with the ‘can’t focus in there’ line. Harry accepted it without question, but MJ knew better. He had confessed that more often than not, the overstimulation was too much for his heightened senses to handle. The myriad of keyboard clicks, turning pages, pen scratches, and hushed whispers and giggles made his palms sweat and hands shake, crushing any focus underneath a buzzing drone that pounded at his temples.
So they had gathered in Harry and Peter’s dorm, each of them crammed into their own little space, Peter at his desk, Harry at the dining table, loose sheets laid haphazardly everywhere, and MJ sprawled out belly-down on the couch, books stacked on the ground next to her.
An hour and a half had passed, and Peter could tell their window of productivity had passed. Harry had stopped stealing Peter for help with various equations, and looking back at the couch revealed MJ staring absently at the screen of her laptop, lips pressed up against the end of her pen.
Peter leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a moment to just gaze at her, uninterrupted. Their relationship was still new, a newfound joy he hadn’t thought himself lucky enough to ever experience; yet still a precious, fragile thing he was terrified of breaking. The long standing crush he had harboured since highschool didn’t help; he had wanted this for so long, typical Parker luck was bound to strike. Which in itself was slightly ridiculous; he trusted MJ with his life, his secrets, and knew for certain they would have each other’s backs even if the worst happened. She wasn’t the only one who knew of his secret identity for nothing. Still, the newfound pleasure of holding hands in the hallways, stolen kisses in between classes, and sneaking into her dorm to wrap her up in his arms after particularly difficult patrols was second to none.
Harry had said they were ‘inevitable’ . Whether or not that was true, Peter just thought himself damn lucky when it came to her. Just looking at her now, stretched out on their questionably dirty couch, made his chest warm. She was so pretty. She had pulled her silky, auburn hair into a messy bun, bangs falling over her face. She kept brushing it back behind her ears, trying, and failing, to keep it out of her eyes. Trying not to get transfixed by her fingers, Peter’s eyes drifted lower, to where her shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing the curve of her waist. Lower still, to her thighs, uncovered by her ( too short) shorts, soft, pale skin, unmarred, bar the collection of faint stretch marks clustered along the junction of her hips and thighs. Stretch marks Peter had seen up close, had run his fingers over, had-
Not willing to let that thought complete itself while Harry still sat in the same room, Peter tore his eyes from her legs, only to be met with a jolt of nervousness in his stomach. MJ had evidently noticed his ogling, eyes trained on him. She met his gaze, knowing look in her eyes, a small smile playing across her lips. Heat rose in his face. He was so caught.
Still smiling, she sat up, glancing at Harry, who had completely given up, face pressed against his notebook, hands pushing his worksheets around absently.
“Pete,” she said, “I almost forgot, I found this thing; some freelancing thing for some extra money - I could use your help with it.”
Swinging her legs around, she leaned over and began digging through her bag.
“Freelancing?” Peter asked, “I thought you still had the internship with the Bugle?”
“Yeah, but a little extra money never hurts. Here!”
She pulled a wrinkled sheet of paper out of her bag, stood, and made her way to him. Pushing a textbook aside, she perched atop his desk. Peter took the paper from her hands. It was a flyer, advertising submissions for some kind of online portfolio. They offered a decent amount of money for each photo submitted. He hadn’t heard of the company. They were looking for models, for -
Peter’s eyes widened. He threw a hasty look at Harry - still facedown, now humming to himself - before staring up at MJ.
“MJ! Have you -” he leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper - “have you read this properly? It- It’s looking for…”
A smirk curled up her face. “I read it. Maybe I missed something. What are they looking for?”
Pressing a hand to his forehead, Peter stifled a groan.
“What,” she teased, “You think I’m not good enough for it?”
“No! I mean- yes! Like- yes, you could do it, easily, of course you could do it! But… but, you know… you can’t - I mean, you can … but… are you sure you wanna do something like that, like it’s kinda-”
Pressing a hand to his mouth to halt his flustered stammering, MJ leaned down and locked eyes with him.
“You can’t exactly stop me ,” she whispered, “But hey, if you don’t want to help… I can always find another photographer…”
Eyes widening and face heating for the second time that afternoon, Peter clasped the hand covering his mouth with his own.
“No,” he mumbled into her skin, head shaking. “No.”
“You’ll help?”
“I’ll help”
She beamed, eyes sparkling. Pulling her hand from his mouth, he pressed his cheek into it, heaving a sigh.
“What are you two talking about?”
Harry’s voice cut through his thoughts. He was watching them curiously, face now unplastered from the dining table. Peter opened his mouth, but found no words came to him. He was still holding the flyer, now crumpled even more in his clenched fist. He glanced up at MJ. She smirked again.
“Pete’s gonna help me with a modelling gig. Bit of extra money y'know?” She ran her fingers through his hair before hopping off the desk, slipping out of his grip. “You wanna get something to eat?"
Harry’s enthusiastic response faded to the background as Peter slid down in his chair. Finally releasing the flyer from his fist, he folded it neatly, opened the desk drawer, and shoved it under a pile of papers. He leaned his head back.
What had he gotten himself into?
—
Peter was running late. He leapt into a back alley, bag tucked under his arm. Head swivelling to check there were no onlookers, Peter dug through his backpack for his clothes, hopping around trying to pull his pants on. His phone began to buzz. Finally clothed, he darted out of the alley, jogging half a block until he spotted a familiar head of auburn hair. MJ fidgeted on the spot, foot tapping as she frowned at her phone. She looked up at him as he approached and heaved a sigh of relief.
“Peter! You said you’d only be ten minutes!”
Peter squeezed her shoulders and placed a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m sorry, I just got-”
“Caught up?”
He hung his head. Why was New York such a crime filled cesspool? Still, he couldn’t just ignore them. MJ huffed, fiddling with his shirt collar, hiding the neck of his suit that peeked out.
“Cmon, we’re gonna be late.” She took his hand and led him into the photo studio she had been waiting outside of. The shopfront was dimly lit, a diffuser sitting on the countertop, filling the air with a sickly lavender scent. There was a surprising lack of pictures in the lobby for a photo based business, and this odd combination leant to the uneasy feeling that filled Peter upon entering. A bored-looking teenager manned the front desk, who stared at them as they entered.
“Hi,” MJ greeted, “I’ve got a booking for a studio, should be for ‘Watson’”
The young girl nodded, flipped open a book and scanned the page. “Yeah… it’s a two hour booking… prepaid… go through that way-” She pointed to a doorway at their right “-and you’ve got room eight, turn right at the end and it’s third on your left.”
“Thanks!” MJ pulled Peter after her as she made for the hallway.
“Also,” the girl called after them, “The light above the door will flash when your times up, otherwise someone’ll come in if you take too long!”
Peter looked back and gave a thumbs up. MJ didn’t pause, tugging him along until they reached a door with a peeling sticker of the number eight. Her hand reached for the handle but paused. A realisation struck him. She was nervous. He squeezed her hand.
“Where’d you find this place?” he asked, glancing around. The hallway was as dimly lit as the lobby. “It seems kinda… sketchy…”
“It was cheap.” She turned the handle. “And discreet.”
She pushed the door open to reveal a surprisingly good looking studio room, albeit a bit small. Various lights ringed the edge of the room, and a few reflectors sat in a corner. There was a tripod next to the door, and a simple white backdrop framed the back wall. Peter shut the door behind them, surveying the equipment.
“I see where all their budget went now,” he joked, coaxing a soft giggle from his girlfriend, who grabbed a stool he hadn’t seen in the left corner, and seated herself in the middle of the room. She looked up at him, tapping her feet on the ground.
“Are you sure no one's gonna come in?” Peter turned back to the door. He twisted the lock, heard it click. Good .
“Nobody will bother us”
Peter turned back to her, and felt his stomach drop to his feet. MJ’s shirt lay at her feet, revealing a lacy, red bra. She kicked her shoes off, glancing up at him through her bangs.
“Cmon,” she murmured, sliding her pants down her legs. She had matching panties. “We don’t have much time…”
Peter fumbled with the zipper on his bag, eyes glued to her chest, cleavage spilling from the lace.
“I thought we had two…”
His voice faded as she leaned back on her hands, pushing her chest out and shaking the hair from her face. She watched him wordlessly. Peter pulled out his camera, dropping the bag at his feet. He forced his legs to move, switching and dimming various lights until he was satisfied, eyes drawn back to her body over and over again. He tried to ignore the growing tightness in his jeans.
Finally, he hovered in front of her uncertainly, fingers fidgeting with the camera.
“Um..”
“We can warm up with a few like this,” she stated matter-of-factly, before her tone switched and a sultry smile curled up her face, “Before we go all out.”
Peter took a deep breath. It was just photos. He could take photos. He was good at taking photos. Just photos.
They began. Each pose sent a rush of heat through his body, making his heart speed and his thoughts scramble. She seemed to grow more confident as time passed, blinking languidly at him under her eyelashes, smiling as he stuttered through his requested adjustments. He had to close his eyes and mentally will a bucket of cold water to be dumped on him when she spread her legs for him, fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties, revealing just a hint of red curls. His jeans felt like a curse.
“Okay,” she whispered after a while, “Real deal.”
Peter couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped him as she unhooked her bra and slipped it off her shoulders, eyes locked with his the whole time. His face must have been an embarrassing shade of red as he watched her remaining garments fall to the floor. She stared up at him from the stool, eyes dark.
“Tell me what to do”
Peter exhaled and tried to fix his slack-jawed expression. He couldn’t ignore the throbbing ache in his cock anymore.
“Turn around,” he breathed, “Bend over.”
She obliged. He marvelled at the curve of her ass, the flex of her back, the side of her breast peeking out from under her arm. The click of the shutter echoed in his ears. She arched, flashing the dark mound of her pussy.
“Spread your legs”
She did, and every shift in his jeans was excruciating. She widened her legs further, arched her back deeper, her folds spreading to reveal her moist pussy. She looked back at him, lips parted. Peter fought the urge to drop the camera and touch her the way his cock was screaming at him to. Still watching him, MJ turned slowly, perching on the edge of the stool, legs still spread. She ran a hand down her thigh and pressed her other arm under her breasts, pushing them up. He spent too long adjusting the camera, zooming in maybe a little too close. Her eyes drifted downward.
Voice rough, she spoke. “Let me see, Pete.”
He jerked the camera from his face.
“Whu?”
“Take it out.”
Peter let out a pathetic noise, but one hand flew to his belt without hesitation. He fumbled with the buckle, undoing his fly and roughly shoving the far-too-tight jeans down to his knees. His cock sprang free, already dripping with precum. His hand hovered near it hesitantly, and he glanced back up at her. MJ smiled at him, puffing her chest out, letting her fingers drift through the soft, red curls at her crotch.
“It’s okay,” she soothed.
He moaned softly as he wrapped his hand around his length. He took a step, pumping himself gently. MJ’s smile faded into a ravenous look as her fingers drifted lower, her breath hitching slightly as she brushed over her most sensitive spot. Another step, and he placed the camera on the ground. Peter twisted his hand and grunted, cupping his balls and squeezing as she dipped a finger inside, the wetness clinging when she withdrew. Another step and his knees brushed hers. Her breathing deepened as she plunged a finger in fully, eating up the way he stroked himself, hard but methodical.
Her other hand rested on his thigh. Peter tangled his fingers in her hair. Precum oozed from him, and he smeared it all over the tip. He moaned in appreciation as she slipped a second finger inside. Until his movements screeched to a halt when she leaned forward slightly and pressed her lips lightly against him.
I should take a picture of this , he thought stupidly. She looked up at him through her eyelashes.
“Are you…” He cleared his throat, finding his voice. “Are you sure you-!”
He choked as her lips enveloped him.
Waves of pleasure flooded his brain as she slowly bobbed on his cock, taking every inch into her hot, wet mouth. She pulled back, tongue lapping and circling the tip, before she took him all in one swift plunge. Peter cried out, fingers clenching in her hair.
God I hope nobody can hear me..
He whimpered, desperately trying to contain his voice as she released a few inches then deepthroated him again, choking on his length. She released him with a pop . A hand came up and gripped his base, pumping as she sucked on his tip like some kind of perverse lollipop. She ran her lips along the underside, up and down, lowering her mouth to his balls, massaging them with her tongue. Peter grit his teeth and guided her head back before he made a mess of her hair.
Lust gripped his thoughts as he guided his cock back to her mouth. He held her head in his hands and carefully rolled his hips, slipping his length in and out of her mouth. She exhaled, opening wider and relaxing her body. She ran a hand up his thigh, grabbing his hip to encourage him deeper, faster. The other slipped down her body to pleasure herself. Peter’s head leaned back as his eyes slipped shut. His hips rolled into her rhythmically, each press of his cock into the back of her throat pulsing waves of pleasure throughout his body. MJ’s hand tightened on his hip, nails digging into his skin, coaxing broken whines through his teeth as she moved her head to meet his thrusts.
His fingers twisted in her hair as his hips lost their rhythm, movements growing erratic as pressure built and a low moan built in his throat. A glance down at the woman beneath him brought him to the edge, the sight tightening his balls and sending a shudder through him. She watched him under hooded eyes, saliva dripping out of the corner of her mouth, fingers buried deep inside herself as she grinded against the palm of her hand.
“MJ!” he gasped, “Unh.. I’m gonna…”
She moaned around his cock, lips wrapping tight against him and she closed her eyes. Something in him snapped. He drew himself back, and thrust into her hard, cumming harder and longer than he thought possible. He grinded weakly against her face, panting. They stayed joined for a long moment, until MJ pushed on his hip. Another pathetic whimper escaped him as he extricated his softening, messy cock. He sunk to the ground, legs like jelly. A rush of satisfaction filled him at the sound of MJ’s thick swallow.
Leaning back on his hands, Peter looked back up at MJ. Her hair was a mess, sticking up all over the place. She wiped at her face and met his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, until she covered her mouth and began to giggle. Peter ducked his head, face flushing, a stupid grin stretching across his face.
“You’re crazy,” he huffed, her laughter increasing.
“You… you’re the best, Pete.”
Their little bubble burst at the sudden flashing of light behind them, heralding the end of their two hour session. Peter groaned, pushing himself to his feet, pulling his pants back on properly. He leaned forward, patting at MJ’s hair in an attempt to tame the wild mane, but only seemed to make it worse. She grumbled and pushed him off, standing to hunt for her clothes that were scattered around the room. Anxious that someone would barge in while she was still half-naked, Peter retrieved his camera and rearranged the studio lights back to their original positions, one eye on the door at all times.
After a few minutes, MJ deemed herself presentable enough to leave. After dabbing the stool with some tissues - Peter averted his eyes pointedly - they made their way back into the dim hallway. The teen manning the lobby hadn’t moved, and barely spared them a glance as they returned to the outside world.
They walked a block, arms linked, until MJ steered them into an alley. Peter looked at her questioningly. She smiled up at him.
“Go on. I’ll be alright.”
She really did know him too well. Peter gathered her up in his arms and kissed her hard. The taste of his cum lingered on her tongue. He pulled away regretfully and slipped off his jacket.
“Wait,” he said suddenly, turning back to her, “What do you want me to do with the photos?”
She grinned cheekily. “Whatever you want, Tiger. Consider it a gift from me.”
Peter gaped at her indignantly. “Did you- you were never going to submit anything? Then why did we…?”
She giggled and waved, sauntering out to the street, leaving him alone with his roiling thoughts.
Peter pressed his hands into his eyes, shaking his head. But as he webbed his bag to the side of a building and pulled on his mask, he found himself smiling. A smile that didn’t leave his face as he swung up and out over the city.
She really is going to be the death of me.