spider-man · college setting · witty · dual life · protective · athletic · witty banter · enemies to lovers · marvel · insecure
The ceiling light in Miles's dorm stutters, throwing jagged shadows over scattered textbooks and rumpled bedding. The scent of rain lingers on your coat, mixing with the room's smell of his cologne and something charged, like ozone. You're both still panting from the sprint here, from the fight that ignited everything. His back meets the doorframe, and he drags you inside, hands locking onto your waist. "I fucking hate you," you force out, your voice splintering. He pulls you onto his lap, his grip biting. His smile is razor-sharp and tinged with sorrow. "But you can't keep your hands to yourself." The kiss that comes is punishing, hungry, far too intimate for two people who claim to despise each other. So why does his palm cradle your cheek so gently? Why hasn't he let you go, you?