#dark!peter parker

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XVII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You stared into the darkness of the basement for what felt like too long.

It was quiet down there, but not the kind of quiet that felt comforting. It was the kind of silence that felt suffocating—taunting. It was so loud in its taunting, snickering at you and your idiocy and naivety. Even as you laid on the floor, feeling like the lowest of jokes, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that brought you here.

Nat was your friend. Or at least, you liked to consider her one, and even faced with the threat of the worst punishment Steve could muster, you just couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything differently. You couldn’t imagine yourself waking Peter up that night and telling him you saw the redhead escaping, effectively alerting the other husbands to her presence, leading to her subsequent capture. It just wasn’t in you, and clearly none of these men—not even Peter—knew you at all if they thought it was.

The first time you tried to move, you couldn’t, and for a brief moment, you thought that Steve had injured you in his delight to toss you down the stairs like a sack of flour instead of a person. However, you quickly came to realize that wasn’t the case. You could move your fingers and toes fine, even twitch your leg, but you just couldn’t find the strength to move. You felt beyond defeated, and when you blinked, you weren’t shocked to feel a sting behind your eyes.

There was the most awful aching feeling in your chest, both heavy and hollow even though you didn’t know how that was possible. You wanted to cry and scream, but you also never wanted to utter another word ever again. You wanted to let out everything you felt since the moment you came here, but in the same breath, you desperately wanted to feel numb. If you didn’t feel a thing, then you couldn’t get hurt, and you hurt so much, right now.

Peter killed Michelle.

He didn’t help kill her, but he did kill her, and in the grand scheme of things, maybe that shouldn’t make a difference. After all, you’d still been under the impression that he did nothing while his brothers did. You’d still been under the belief that he allowed it to happen at best and helped it happen and cover it up at worst. So, why did Peter pulling the trigger make all the difference in the world to you?

Was it because you thought you were falling in love with him?

That thought had you squeezing your eyes shut, so tight that it hurt, and it was hard to hold back your sob. Your nails scraped against the hard floor as you shook, struggling to breathe as your stomach turned. Once you started it was so hard to stop, and it wasn’t long before the sound of your choked cries were filling the basement. It was a thought you’d considered before, but that was when he wasn’t a murderer.

That was when he hadn’t murdered your best friend.

How could you possibly rationalize it now? Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t your fault. Deep down you knew that there were names and studies dedicated to people in your position and the psychology behind it, but that didn’t make you feel any better. Peter had murdered your friend in cold blood…

…and you thought you loved him.

The thought made you want to be sick, and with horror, you could actually feel your stomach turning. You hurried to sit up, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as you struggled to keep it down. The bathroom only some feet away was locked—wouldn’t be unlocked until someone came down to open it and let you in—and you didn’t think you could handle sitting in a room with your vomit just stewing in the corner.

Struggling to get to your feet, you pressed your other hand to your stomach, trying to settle it. Keeping your mouth closed, you breathed through your nose, lashes fluttering, and after some time, you slowly stumbled towards where you knew the bed to be. You didn’t care about turning on the light, finding no need, and when you sat down, your head drooped in defeat.

There was really no telling how long they’d keep you in here until they figured out what to do with you, and while you knew that Peter would try his damndest to get them to go easy on you, you also knew that they wouldn’t consider a word that left his mouth. You—and also Peter by extension—had proven Steve and the others right, and you found it unlikely they’d ever listen to another suggestion from Peter about you ever again. Or at the very least, not for a long time.

Besides, Peter wasn’t the aggrieved party.

Bucky was, and such a thought made you shudder. You’d done well to avoid attracting Bucky’s ire even though he reminded you of Steve in some ways. Although, unlike Steve, Bucky didn’t seem the type to look for any and every excuse to punish you as he’d prefer in a contrast to Peter’s methods. Bucky seemed—if nothing else—fair to you, and that’s what scared you the most.

Bucky now felt wronged by you.

So, there was really no telling what was in store for you.

You recalled the way he’d reached for you, desperately trying to get past Peter in his efforts to get his hands on you. You didn’t want to imagine what he would’ve done had he succeeded, and you swallowed as your mind went rampant with the possibilities. Your hand came up to graze the tear in your sleeve, wincing at the slight sting you felt when your finger came in contact with the skin. Some part of you knew that had Bucky succeeded, he just might have killed you in his rage, and where you once would’ve welcomed such a thought…

It only made your heart ache, now.

You didn’t want to die, and when you thought about why, your stomach only twisted into knots once again. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you keeled over, throat tight as you tried to swallow down another sob. Your chest hurt so much, feeling like someone had an iron grip on your heart and was just squeezing and twisting it to their content. When you gasped, a cry escaped with it, and the only other time you could recall feeling like this was the day you realized your friends were dead and you were all alone.

You cried until your throat felt raw, and you didn’t fight your body as it started to collapse to the floor, sliding off of the bed in a heap. Covering your face with your hands, your lightly dragged your nails down your skin, frame shaking as you rocked back and forth. Your stomach wouldn’t stop hurting, and you couldn’t stop shaking. In fear or anger or despair—you didn’t know.

You did know that this was all Peter’s fault. He was the one who decided he had to have you, as if you were some thing to be acquired instead of a human being with a life and feelings and autonomy. If it weren’t for him, your friends would still be alive, and you wouldn’t even be here. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be feeling ripped apart by how you felt about the man who kidnapped and raped you. All of this was Peter’s fault…and even still…more than anything…

All you wanted was for him to hold you.

It was hard to say how long you stayed in the basement. The darkness and silence was endless, and it felt like months, but in reality, it was probably mere days. You did know that it was long enough for your stomach to ache from more than just fear and for your nightgown to stink from more than just sweat. You didn’t think you were capable of feeling embarrassed about that anymore. After all, Peter never made you feel like it was something to be embarrassed about, but that was before you heard the sound of the locks on the basement door.

Despite your shame, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Until the light from the top of the stairs outlined a familiar silhouette.

You merely stared at him as he stood on the first step, yours on him and his eyes on you. You couldn’t hear any noise coming from the main part of the house, and you said nothing when he closed the door behind him. Peter wasn’t good. You knew that since the beginning when he told you that everything he did was so that he could have you, making it all okay. Peter had never been good.

So, why did looking at him now hurt so much more than it ever had?

As soon as Peter was close enough, the first thing he did was take your face into his hands. You couldn’t really feel them, realizing that you got your wish to feel numb, and that just made your chest ache more. Just days ago you were desperate to feel the comfort of Peter’s touch, and now you couldn’t feel it, at all.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, face a mere inch away from yours.

When you didn’t say anything back, you noticed the way his face fell, lips pressed together as he eyed you. His gaze lingered on yours for the longest, thumbs just grazing your skin, and you watched the way his tongue darted out to swipe between his lips.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

His words had you blinking, and it was only then did you notice the fresh dress resting on the crook of his arm. You didn’t ask him what day it was because it didn’t matter. You only knew what would be happening today, and it’s why the dress on Peter’s arm was so pretty. It was why you’d been locked in the basement for days. It was why Peter looked at you the way he did as he helped you stand.

“I’m so sorry,” were the words he murmured into your hair as soon as he leaned you against him.

What was he apologizing for exactly? For killing Michelle or lying to you about it? For taking you and ruining your life in the first place? Or for failing to protect you from the wrath of the other husbands? Maybe he was apologizing for what was to come, and that made you shut your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he brought your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

You didn’t respond—didn’t know how to—only allowing him to guide you into the bathroom after unlocking it. You couldn’t really say how you got naked, only feeling as if you blinked before finding yourself sitting in a tub of hot water with Peter raining water down over your head. He was talking to you, saying something that went in one ear and out of the other. All you could focus on was that dress on the toilet, wondering what they planned to make you do while wearing it.

When you felt the weight of Peter’s gaze, it was only then did you take note of the silence. You didn’t know if he’d asked you a question or if he simply opted to stare at you, but when his hand came up to graze the side of your face, you assumed it was the latter. Perusing you, you watched as his gaze became distracted by the shallow scrape on your arm from Bucky’s nails, and when Peter’s jaw tightened, you knew that he realized where it came from too.

“Peter,” you softly forced out, throat tight.

He gave you his undivided attention, and you licked your lips.

“What are they going to do to me?”

Your question came out almost inaudible, just barely above a whisper as you found yourself almost too afraid to ask—too fearful to want to know. When Peter’s face fell some, your own frown deepened, and when he sighed, your heart sank.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he slowly told you, and you could see that he was telling the truth.

You knew that Peter would have no say in this, you’d known that, but faced with the knowledge that was completely in the dark only served to make your stomach twist more. Only this time, you weren’t able to stop it, and it was Peter who kept you from falling as you hurried to get out of the tub. You only just made it to the toilet in time, and with nothing in your stomach to throw up, all you expelled was bile.

One of Peter’s hands were on your waist, the other soothingly rubbing your back as you vomited again. With every heave of your stomach, you shook more and more, and when you were done, you could only stare at the wall behind the toilet.

“You’re sick,” he said, tone strained with worry.

You shook your head.

“No, I’m just… I’m scared,” you honestly told him, lifting your gaze to meet his. “…and heartbroken.”

Peter sadly tilted his head, and your lips quivered.

“Why did you lie to me?” you breathed. “Why did you…? Why did you minimize your part in it?”

You continued before Peter could lie some more.

“Why did you hold me and comfort me and tell me you weren’t as bad as them when you’re much worse?”

“I’m not,” he argued, grabbing your shoulder.

“…but you are,” you said with a frown. “At least with Steve and Tony and Bucky I know who they are. I fear them because they’ve shown me why I should.”

Peter pulled you closer, resting your head on his chest as he rocked you.

“You made me love you.”

The words came out small and choked, your face crumbling as Peter stilled, and you’d stupidly thought you had no more tears left. Your body proved you wrong, frame shaking as your chest tightened, a cry escaping you in the otherwise quiet bathroom. Peter didn’t respond right away, just holding you as you cried.

“I’m still the same person I was before you found out,” he whispered, rocking you. “…the same person you begged to run away with.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he confessed. “…but it’s why I can hold you every night for as long as I want.”

He leaned down to gently kiss your forehead, and your vacant and tearful gaze was on the bathtub, now.

“You don’t have to agree with it, even I don’t agree with it, but it had to be done if I wanted you all to myself.”

You knew that justified it all in Peter’s mind, and the part of your brain that was conditioned to normalize your new reality wanted to pull him closer, but the part that desperately missed your friends and family and old life only wanted to be sick.

When Peter rinsed you off and dried you, his fingers grazed your skin as he helped you get dressed. Soothing words left his lips that didn’t really mean much because how could he calm you against something that was unknown to him too? He didn’t even know what he was comforting you from. Once dressed, he stood before you, looking you over with his fingers grazing over yours.

When your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you didn’t stop him when he leaned in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. Like every touch and kiss of his, now, you didn’t really feel it, and when Peter pulled away, you felt that the numbness that consumed you reflected in your own gaze. He heaved a sigh, fingering the ring on your finger.

“I still love you,” he assured you, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “That’ll never change…and even… Even when I have to do whatever it is I have to do today, I’ll be doing it with love.”

Those words didn’t exactly comfort you, and your eyes briefly closed when he walked you out of the bathroom. The stairs were hard to take, courtesy of your lack of food and what little sleep you’d managed to get. You shook beside Peter, and you knew that it was from more than just not eating. In fact, you were sure you were going to throw up again.

The house was unusually quiet—as well as empty—and that did nothing to alleviate your uneasiness. Peter’s hold on your hand was gentle, and as much you loved to hate him in this moment, you appreciated that he walked outside with you instead of walking you outside like a prisoner. You were surprised by how early it was in the day, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the rising sun. Days in the darkness had them hurting from the harsh natural light.

Just as you got used to it, a familiar and intimidating voice spoke.

“Leave her right there.”

Only, it wasn’t the voice you were used to being on the receiving end of. Your eyes met familiar blue ones as Peter was forced to step away from you, Bucky’s gaze very much transparent as he looked at you. His anger and disgust were palpable, and you found that you couldn’t hold his gaze.

That was a mistake.

“You will look at me,” he sneered, hurrying over to you and harshly gripping your chin.

Behind him, you could see Peter take a step forward only to be stopped by Sam. Bucky’s fingers were painfully pressing into your skin, and as difficult as you found it, you held the brunette’s gaze. It was in that moment that you realized why the house had seemed so quiet on your way out. You noted that the only person missing was Jane, and you guessed with her pregnancy and a need for someone to watch Margaret and Sharon’s children, they decided to kill two birds with one stone.

They clearly didn’t want to stress her, and that only made you more fearful of what was in store for you.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” Bucky said to you, and you swallowed. “We expect the odd escape attempt here and there.”

You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of Bucky’s venomous gaze, blue eyes icy.

“We look forward to it even,” he confessed. “None of you will ever succeed, so it helps you realize that, and you get it out of your systems.”

You blinked back tears, and Bucky took note of them, lip curling over his teeth.

“In fact…we had been anticipating yours from the moment we let you out of that basement, but I guess you really were too docile to fight back properly,” he continued, voice growing bitter. “Too docile even to tell one of us when our wife was trying to escape.”

When you blinked again, a tear finally escaped, and you didn’t know if you were supposed to respond. Evidently you were.

“What?” Bucky wondered, roughly letting your chin go. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

Your chest heaved with a deep breath, and you started to glance around.

“No, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Bucky ordered. “After all, it was my wife who anything could’ve happened to.”

When your gaze met his again, more tears spilled over, and you sniffed.

“I’m sorry-.”

“We expect you to fight back…try and make a run for it… What we don’t expect is more loyalty to a traitorous wife than the men of the house,” he interrupted you, spitting the words out and making you flinch. “…because anything could come of that. You could kill one of us.”

“I… I’m sorry,” you said again, knowing it wouldn’t change anything but also knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

Bucky stared at you for a long time—too long—just looking down his nose at you as if he could barely stand to look at you. You were all too aware of the eyes on you, all too aware of the example being made out of you. You were in the dark about what was going to happen, now, and it made you want to be sick. However, of all the things you expected…

You didn’t expect Bucky to quickly grab your arm, twisting it—and you with his other arm—before violently shoving you to the ground. It happened so fast that when you finally cried out in pain, clutching your wrist, you were already looking up at him from the grass. He wasn’t looking at you though, hands behind his back as he stepped away from you.

“There are two outcomes for you today,” he started, making his way towards Peter who looked like he was moments away from committing murder—again. “Personally, I’m partial to either outcome…”

When you started to push yourself to your feet, the dark-haired man heard it, pausing to look at you with a wag of his finger.

“No, no. You don’t get up yet…”

Heart sinking, you sat back down, clutching your arm to you as you looked between him and Peter.

“The first,” he dragged out, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We finally get to see what Peter has in him…”

You froze, skin growing cold and heart dropping to your gut.

“…see if he has what it takes to make you…” Bucky turned his gaze to you, eyes glinting wickedly “…beg him to stop.”

You couldn’t stop more tears from spilling over, the realization of what this day could possibly bring crashing down on you like a wave. When you glanced over, your eyes met a familiar green pair, and Nat’s disgust and regret was plain as day on her face. She looked at you like she wanted to take your place in a heartbeat, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

You couldn’t hold in your sob, pressing your hand to your mouth.

“You can’t cry, now,” Bucky’s voice reached you as he neared you. “We haven’t even started yet.”

He forced you to your feet, and his hands were the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

When you first got here, Peter promised that that would never be you. He told you that he would never, but considering the circumstances of your offense, that choice was no longer up to him. You couldn’t stop sobbing, choking noises climbing out of your throat as Bucky continued.

“The other option is two months in the basement.”

When your eyes met Bucky’s again, there was a gleam in his eye and a curve to his lips that told you it wouldn’t be so easy as choosing which you’d prefer. You didn’t even want to say that the choice would be easy if given one because while your worst fear was recreating what Margaret had to go through during your first days here…you also knew that two months down in that darkness would break you beyond belief.

Two months down there, and you were sure you wouldn’t even be yourself when you emerged.

“It all depends on who gets to you first,” Bucky softly said, making you frown at him.

When he stepped away, you swayed on your feet, but his hand met your arm again when he turned you towards the small pond, free arm gesturing towards the dense trees behind it.

“Those legs that are near and dear to Peter’s heart are going to take you as far as you can go…”

His whispered words made you frown.

“Now, don’t think that you’re getting away…” he looked at you and you slowly looked at him. “…because you’re not. Someone will catch you, it’s only a matter of who, and that determines if this pretty little dress is coming off or not.”

His reminder of one of the possibilities made you lightheaded, and you pressed your hand to your chest when he walked away.

“If Peter catches you, then Peter will do what he has been instructed to do…”

The man in question spoke up, quietly pleading with Bucky, but the older man ignored him.

“…and I was going to participate in this little game,” Bucky said, jaw ticking as he looked at you. “…but you deserve to be terrified after what you did.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking away tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“So…” he backed up, a small smile on his pink lips. “If Steve catches you…”

You couldn’t stop your knees from buckling, world spinning as you caught yourself on your hands and knees. Your skin pricked, and you felt almost on the verge of a heart attack.

“He gets to put you in the basement…” a pause. “Again.”

The sounds of the world were going in and out, and once again, you felt like you were going to throw up. Both options were the last thing you ever wanted, and once you ran into those trees, you didn’t know what would relieve you less—the sight of Peter or the sight of Steve. It was sick, really, because obviously you would rather be caught by Peter, but not if it meant…that.

…and if Steve caught you, you just knew it wasn’t going to be that simple

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky’s words were mocking, filled with a mixture of disdain and satisfaction, and as you looked up at him, you didn’t know who you hated more—him or Steve. The blond in question was someone you had avoided looking at since you stepped outside, bitter to see the sick satisfaction that no doubt covered his features at your humiliation.

Your comeuppance.

Pushing yourself to your feet was a struggle, and you didn’t look at Peter, too afraid to realize that he might be who you wanted to catch you, after all, even if it did mean public humiliation beyond comprehension. You felt beyond alone as you walked down the small decline, the dewy grass so nice against the soles of your feet despite the circumstances.

It was only when you got to the tree line, staring inside, did it hit you.

You were going to be hunted and chased down like some animal, and depending on who caught you first, that was what your punishment would be. Both options were enough to make your stomach flip, and for the life of you, you just couldn’t decide which was better. With a panicked sob, you forced your feet to move.

Every tree looked just like the other to you, and there was nothing in these woods to signal some kind of progress as you ran. It was crazy to think that there had once been days when you dreamed about being in these woods, closer to freedom and away from the craziness you’d been forced into. Now, however, you were in said trees and all you could think about was who would get to you first.

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind.

It wasn’t a matter of whether either of them would catch you. Both of you knew that you weren’t getting away from here, let alone from Peter or Steve in these woods. One of them was going to find you first, and even as you brushed past harmful branches and stumbling vines, you still didn’t know which choice presented to you was better. More than anything, you wanted it to be Peter to find you, but could you be okay with being raped for the whole household to see? This wasn’t like that day with Margaret…

Both Steve and Bucky wanted to make the biggest example out of you, and so the entire household would be there to witness your humiliation. However…it was one day. One hour even at the most of Peter doing what he normally did whenever you were alone…just in front of everyone else. If Steve caught you on the other hand…

Two months in the basement was a thought that actually made your knees shake, causing you to stumble against a tree. You knew—you knew—that you couldn’t handle that, and you knew that Peter knew it too. One option was just one bad day, that was all, but the other option would turn you into even more of a mess than you already were. You’d spent less than a week down there at the most, and both times were hell for you.

The second more so than the worst, and you didn’t want to unpack why that was.

When you heard a tree branch snap, you felt yourself freezing. The tree you were next to was larger, much larger than you, and you remained perfectly still as your hand rested against it. You had only stopped for a few moments, and the whole time you’d been lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even heard any footsteps. In fact, something in you told you that you were supposed to hear the snap of that branch.

When you dared to peek around the trunk, all of your breath left you.

The sight of Steve’s blond hair and back was a stomach turning one, and just as quietly as you peeked around, you hid yourself behind the tree once more. With one movement, you could end this torture and not have to be fucked for the whole household to see, but no matter how much you didn’t want that…you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

…because you didn’t want the alternative either.

Steve terrified you beyond belief—something Bucky had acknowledged—and something in you just knew that he wasn’t going to find you and take you back to the house as easy as that. Outside of raping Margaret, you had never heard of Steve doling out any kind of physical abuse, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Steve would strike you square across the face if he could get away with it.

Peeking around the tree again, you watched him walk away, scanning the area before him for any sign of you. Your nails pressed into the trunk, and with a sinking heart, you both accepted and hoped that Peter would find you, making peace with what that meant for you. With Steve completely out of your sight, you didn’t know which way to go, and so you went forward, adjacent to the direction Steve went.

You felt like you were getting so turned around the further you walked, and you wondered what would happen if you just decided to go back to the house. You wondered how the punishment would be decided then—provided you actually made it back without being caught. The thought of being caught by Steve prevented you from remaining calm and thinking clearly.

Or maybe it was everything else that did that.

You could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes, and you struggled to swallow, throat feeling incredibly tight. You’d thought that you cried enough in the basement, but that kept proving to be untrue. A few tears skipped down your face before many more followed behind, and you took in a shaky breath.

How was it that you hated Peter so so much for what he did…while also wanting nothing more than to just return to your bedroom with him when this was over? You didn’t want to go back down there, alone and bathed in darkness. You wanted to sleep in your bed with Peter and you wanted him to hold you while you cried about the very thing he’d done that caused the tears.

You hated him, but you wanted to be near him.

You didn’t want to hate him from afar. You wanted to hate him while staring at his face every night and listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling his hands on your shoulder as he sat behind you in the bathtub. You hated Peter so much for what he did—and lying about it—but it just wasn’t the kind of hate where you couldn’t stand the sight of him, and you hated him all the more for that.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and considering you’d gone in the opposite direction of Steve, you were prepared to meet your fate when your gaze would meet that of a familiar brown one. Only, the eyes that met yours weren’t brown…they were blue…and you felt your lips part.

You didn’t hesitate to run the other way, a scream climbing out of your throat when you were tackled to the ground. Steve’s hand was pressed to the back of your head as he slammed your face against the leaves and sticks, making you gasp, and when his arm snaked around your neck, a choked sound left you.

You weren’t surprised when he threw you to the dirt again.

“I knew…” he started, slowly following you as you attempted to crawl away. “From the moment Peter gave us that crock of shit about a gentler method, I fucking knew.”

You clawed at the dirt when Steve reached down to pull on one of your legs.

“I knew then that he was being too soft with you,” he spat, flipping you over. “I knew that it would come back to bite us.”

Steve squatted over you, one hand tightly curling around your throat, and you struggled to breathe as he slowly forced you to your feet. Your scraped at his hand, gaze tearful and pleading as Steve stared you down, nostrils flaring. His blond hair was a mess, an unusual sight for you, but those blue eyes were as cold as ever.

Steve really hated you.

“Bucky is better than me,” Steve hissed at you. “…because if Margaret had gotten as far as Nat did because of you, I wouldn’t make Peter stop until you were begging for him to put you out of your misery.”

You pushed at his hands, panicked, and he only shook you in response.

“You think he’s your best fucking friend,” Steve breathed through clenched teeth, sizing you up. “Instead of the man who owns you.”

When he threw you down, your head spun, and you struggled to right your vision. You pressed your hands to your temples as you cried, fighting the urge to curl in on yourself.

“That ends today…”

Steve’s words were spoken with finality, and you didn’t quite understand the meaning of them as you heard approaching footsteps. You heard Steve exhale, and when you dared to look up, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Peter.

“Peter,” he acknowledged. “Love that timing of yours.”

Peter didn’t hesitate to hurry towards you, placing a hand on your head as you sobbed. As you’d suspected, you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple if Steve caught you instead, and you realized just how complicated it was going to be at the sound of his next words.

“We need to make sure nothing like this happens again, Peter,” Steve told him, and they shared a look, something unspoken between them that had Peter’s jaw clenching.

“So, is that why you forgot who she belongs to? Is that why you treated her like you used to treat Peggy on her really bad days? She’s already terrified of you. What more do you want?” he sneered at him, briefly looking at you and brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I need her to be terrified of you,” Steve answered, hands on his hips. “I told you from the beginning that you were too soft with her. I told you what needed to be done for her to get it.”

“Yeah, Steve, alright, I get it-!”

“…but you don’t,” Steve yelled at Peter, staring at the younger man just like a brother would. “You don’t get it because if you did, this would’ve never happened.”

Steve gestured around, cutting you a scathing look that made you wither.

“She would’ve never felt more loyal to Nat than the men who run this household. She would’ve understood that she exists to serve you and the house as a whole by extension.”

You hated the way Peter’s hands slowed on your face, and when you looked at his own face, he looked to be deep in thought.

“Not just the wives and whatever they think is best, but what’s best for the family,” Steve paced. “You are going to make her understand that she’s not your friend and certainly not your fucking equal.”

You watched Peter defeatedly exhale, eyes falling closed.

“You are going to make her understand that, right now,” Steve snarled.

“Steve…”

Peter’s tone was pleading, and that was when you finally sat up, looking between them with a racing heart. You scooted back, but Peter’s hand on your arm prevented you from going far. When your gaze met his, his eyes had softened, something in them pleading with you.

“I will make you, Peter.”

Steve’s tone was scarily calm, and you glanced at him, lips shaking at the malice in his eyes.

“Do you understand me? I will not rest until I catch her slipping up again, and depending on my mood that day, I just might make you fuck her right there in the garden for all to see,” he quietly told him. “So, it’s either now or it’s later…but it is happening. You decide.”

In truth, you didn’t know why you were crying. You had already accepted that you’d rather get the bad thing over with than drag it out for two months. However, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Steve was going to make Peter do this and still turn around and throw you right down in that basement. Even though there was less humiliation involved, it still seemed unfair.

“Do this and…maybe I can convince Bucky to only leave her down there for a month,” Steve proposed, and by the tone of his voice, he knew that he’d won.

You barely had time send Steve a scathing look of your own before your back roughly met the ground.

Peter’s mannerisms were rough, and while you knew it was because Steve wanted them to be, it didn’t mean you had to like it. You didn’t think Peter had ever been rough with you, and you cried out at the harsh pull on your hair, his other hand painfully digging into your waist.

“See, you need to understand, sweetheart,” Steve’s voice reached your ears as he circled you. “That you belong to Peter. You exist as an extension of him, now. You exist to exalt him, and the only way that you will get it in your head that you’re his property…”

Peter had flipped you onto your stomach, now.

“Is if he treats you like it.”

You yelped when your chest was forced to the ground, Peter manhandling you in the way he knew Steve wanted.

“…and what better way to do that than to show you that he can and will take you wherever and whenever regardless of who is around to see it,” he slowly said, making sure he was heard loud and clear.

The humiliation of feeling Peter push his cock into you before Steve’s very eyes had you squeezing yours shut, a harsh sob escaping as Peter’s skin slapped against yours. His hand was on your throat, and you clawed at it, gasping when his teeth pressed into your shoulder.

“You don’t have autonomy over your body anymore. You don’t exist independently of Peter, and that extends to this family…”

Peter’s harsh thrusts made your toes curl, and what was once a rough entry had become much smoother. With no warning and feeling wholly unprepared for this turn of events, tears escaped your eyes, and your fingers dug into the grass and dirt. The feel of Peter’s cock pushing into your walls was a familiar one you’d grown to love, but the sound of Steve’s pacing steps and voice made you want to crawl in a hole.

You felt torn apart.

“Had you previously understood that, all of this could’ve been prevented.”

Steve sounded pleased with himself—and Peter—and the thought made you sick. When Peter pulled your head back, you winced, and you started to move away from him, wanting this earlier and regretting it now—especially since you were going back into the basement anyway.

When Peter’s lips grazed your ear, you shuddered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you, hand painfully pulling at your hair, making you cry out again.

You recalled Peter’s words from earlier, and you knew why this was happening. You understood the hierarchy in the household, understood that what Steve said went, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Steve would’ve absolutely made this happen for the whole house to say. You understood that this was the better alternative, but that understanding is what made you cry more.

This wasn’t something to be understood. The man thrusting into you had killed your friends and kidnapped you, and the man before you had helped. Peter wasn’t your husband or your lover but instead your captor and rapist. Nothing about any of this was right, and in this moment, you shouldn’t be rationalizing or understanding anything.

…but you did.

You understood why Peter grabbed you with no hesitation and proceeded to fuck you under Steve’s watchful eye. You understood why being raped for all to see had briefly been the better choice to you than being sent back into the basement. You understood why Peter was murmuring sweet nothings and apologies into your ear as he roughly held you down and plunged his cock into you.

You understood it all, and you hated it.

You didn’t want to simultaneously hold Peter closer and push him away as he roughly fucked you against the grass, face to face with you, now. You didn’t want him to obey when Steve told him to fuck you harder. You didn’t want to understand that Peter didn’t actually want this because if that were true he simply wouldn’t do it, right? You didn’t want to accept that this house didn’t follow the rules of the outside world and that so long as you were here—and you would be here forever—neither would you.

“Are you sorry, now?” Steve wondered, somehow able to hear his voice over the sound of your cries. “Hmm?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but you knew you gave him that anyway the moment you started crying. When Peter’s eyes met yours, he shushed you, a poor attempt to make this better somehow, and his next words made you blink.

“Do you see how much worse I could be?” he whispered, too low for Steve to hear. “How much worse they want me to be?”

You stared at him, nails digging into the skin of his arm, and with another harsh sob, you nodded.

“Do you understand what I’ve been trying to protect you from?”

Again, you nodded.

Peter’s nose grazed your own.

“Do you get it now?” he sadly asked you.

When you nodded again, unable to find your voice between cries, Peter shushed you. His fingers pressed into your skin, and his hips painfully came down against yours. When his lips pressed against yours, they swallowed the noises that escaped your throat.

“I never wanted this for you.”

…and you knew Peter was telling the truth.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Perfect Family

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Peter knows you’re about to break up with him. So what’s the next logical step? Get you pregnant, obviously. 

WARNINGS: Babytrapping; Toxic relationship; Birth control Tampering. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

Peter knows exactly what you’re planning, after all he knows everything about you. You’re his other half, his soulmate. 

That’s how he knows you’re planning to break up with him. When he found out through the messages you had been sending your best friend he couldn’t believe his eyes.

How could you ever want that? You love him, he’s sure of that. 

You’re always telling him you love him, before you leave for your college or when you’re about to go to bed. Even if it’s with a blank face, rushing the words out of your mouth before you walk away, without a sincere smile. 

He makes sure to keep an update on the messages, his heart practically skipping a beat when you reveal your plan to break-up after your first-year anniversary, just a few weeks away.  

Peter forces himself to remain calm and to act as if he knows nothing, keeping up with the caring boyfriend’s character. He can’t raise suspicion now.

If his plan works out, you won’t be going anywhere.

“I’m pregnant.” you declare with a shaky voice. Peter stops, the plate falling off his hold and crashing into the ground. 

“Peter, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know how this happened, I swear I took the birth control pills every day, I never missed them!” you exclaim, twisting your hands in anxiety.

Peter looks at you, his face completely expressionless and you fear the worst. You drop your head, panic starting to grow stronger. Peter is going to hate you for ruining everything.

You’re about to ruin both of your futures, but his especially. He wants to go to MIT, not become a dad so soon. 

“I’m truly so sorry and I-” Peter runs to you, elevating you into the air and swirling around as he lets out loud chuckles. 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a dad. Fuck, that’s the best news ever.” he exclaims, carefully dropping you back onto your feet. You clean the tears with the back of your hand, a small hopeful feeling growing inside you as you look at him. He looks radiant, much happier than what you had predicted. 

“R-Really? You’re not mad at me?” you hesitantly ask. Peter fondly smiles at you, cupping your cheek. 

“I could never be mad at you for this. It takes two to make a baby. Besides, it was always part of our future plans, right?” he says, dropping the last sentence with a lightly sketchy tone as if he’s waiting for you to agree but you ignore it, it’s probably your imagination acting up.

You can’t be a single-mother, you already know you won’t be able to deal with it and your child deserves to have both its father and mother together in their life, it’s the least you can do.

You can’t abandon Peter anymore. 

You nod as Peter drops on the ground, pressing his head against your belly. Your hand instinctively goes to his head, caressing his brown hair and his hand comes to cover your own. 

“This is perfect.” Peter whispers, pressing kisses towards your belly, where your baby is developing. “You, me and our baby. A perfect family.” 

[princessbellecerise]

Home Alone

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | The Avengers go on a mission leaving you all alone, which gives Peter the perfect opportunity to finally claim you as his

warnings | softdark!peter, stalking, drugging, delusional!peter, noncon, sex toys, squirting, loss of virginity (f.), pet names, 18+

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter

dividers by @firefly-graphics

It was quiet in the compound. That was the first thing you noticed when you walked in after class, exhausted from all the talk about your senior project and the theme of prom.

You had been tired, and slightly agitated knowing that even though you were going home early due to being a senior, you still wouldn’t get any peace and quiet, seeing as you did live with the Avengers.

You had braced yourself for the upcoming ruckus, perhaps Sam and Bucky arguing again or maybe even your dad and Steve getting into it. You were prepared to dash straight to your room and not even acknowledge anybody, but alas, you didn’t have to.

It was quiet.

The second thing you noticed was the note taped to the fridge, written in your father’s handwriting. You curiously snatched it off and then drunk in the words, getting more and more excited by the second as you read it.

Hey there Rockstar,

Fury called us all away on a last minute mission and Pep is away on a business meeting so you have the whole house to yourself. Don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

Love, Dad

PS, NO BOYS!!!!!!

You laughed to yourself, noticing that boys was highlighted, underlined, and accompanied by several exclamation marks. Shaking your head at your dad, you smiled before discarding the note.

Inside, you couldn’t deny the excitement that bubbled up at the thought of finally having the whole tower to yourself. Peace and quiet, which was so rare you really and truly didn’t even know what to do with yourself.

You looked around, half expecting it to be a prank and for your chaotic family to walk through the doors at any minute. You stared at the elevator, but as the seconds ticked by your smile only grew, realizing that they were really and truly gone.

“Whoohoo!”

You didn’t care if it was cringey, or even if your dad had cameras recording you at that very moment. You were just so excited that you ran laps around the compound, laughing and hollering until finally you got tired, collapsing on the couch with heavy breaths.

You grinned as you noticed that you didn’t have to fight anybody for a spot, picking up the remote and putting on a show that you wanted to watch for once.

Gossip Girl started to play and you realized that it had been a while since you’d watched it and you needed to catch up. That would be easy now since you had nobody bugging you to do your homework or to change the channel to something they wanted to watch instead.

So, you made yourself comfortable on the couch and even brought over a few snacks, eventually settling down and preparing to enjoy your peaceful night alone.

You weren’t sure when it was that you fell asleep, but you knew the minute that you woke up it had already been a few hours. The moment your eyes peeled open, the bright lights of New York City greeted you through the glass panel windows. It was nighttime, and after checking your phone, you were informed that it was 11 o’clock actually. Not too late, but you had already gotten some well-needed sleep so you knew that you weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon.

Since it was a Friday, you excitedly realized that you could pull an all-nighter and enjoy your time before the Avengers got back. Tony didn’t say when, but if it was all of them, you knew they’d get things done quickly. You probably only had a day to enjoy your freedom and good god, what where you going to do?

You didn’t know when another opportunity like this would arise, so you knew you had to pull out the full works.

Binge watching your favorite show? Check.

Eating your favorite snacks without someone else reaching their grubby little hands over (mainly Tony) and forcing you to share? Check.

Bubble bath? Not yet, but you figured you’d get started on that so you could wash away all the crumbs you had accidentally spilled on yourself while you were asleep.

Standing up, you yawned and slightly stretched before grabbing your dishes and lazily throwing them in the sink. You’d worry about them later or hell, you’d even ask Friday to clean them. They were the least of your concern, so you trudged your way to your bedroom, tired but excited for your bath.

You went to the bathroom and drew your water, throwing in a few fancy bath bombs and soaps Tony had gotten you from Italy. The sweet aroma filled the luxurious bathroom, and you sighed, sitting on the edge of the tub as you watched the water fill up.

Somewhere along the lines, you had changed into nothing but a robe and you were all too eager to strip the minute the water got to your liking. You had also grabbed your phone and your speaker for music and a few candles to really set the relaxing vibe.

After setting everything up, you eagerly tied your hair up so that it wouldn’t get wet, ripped open a facemask, and then it was time to finally sink into the water.

You let out a sigh of content the moment your body settled into the warm bath, the water seemingly sinking into your bones and erasing every trace of anxiety that you had.

It was so soothing that you sunk down until the only thing that wasn’t covered by water was your hair, mouth and nose. You breathed in the sweet scents and allowed yourself to relax, closing your eyes and letting everything go as the light from the candles flickered all around you.

You figured the only thing that could make the experience better was possibly sneaking some of Tony’s gourmet wine, but you were already in the tub and didn’t feel like moving. Plus, you knew your dad would kill you and probably take away your suit as punishment.

You didn’t want to take that risk so you decided that you were fine on the alcoholic beverages — at least until you were sure he wouldn’t know about it.

You decided to just enjoy yourself in other ways, like splashing at the bubbles and popping them with your fingernails.

You giggled as some of the soap got on your face, playing in the bubbles like a child. You scooped them up, waved them around, and even gave yourself a makeshift Gotye like your dad, making sure to take a picture before finally washing it all off.

You laughed again, shaking your head at your childish antics before going back to relaxing. You closed your eyes, and you rested for at least thirty minutes before you finally decided to get out.

Your makeshift spa had come to an end, so you drained the water, threw away the face mask, and put your robe back on along with your house slippers.

You made your way into your bedroom and blew out all the candles, leaving your room to be lit up by the ever glowing city lights below.

It was one of the things you loved most about New York, and despite it being the city that got destroyed the most (mainly because of the Avengers), it was home, and you knew you didn’t want to live anyplace else.

The city lights always made you feel comfortable, almost like wrapping you in a blanket and reassuring you that you were almost never alone.

Sure, in the tower you were, but there were plenty of people still around you, walking below you, across the street from you, two buildings over…

In New York, there were always people out, night or day, and often times like now you loved to just sit on the balcony and watch them.

You watched as a woman walked her dog, as a couple argued over which restaurant to eat at. You watch the musicians on the street, wishing that you were down there to maybe put some money in their guitar cases. You watched the crackheads run around, and everybody else pretend that they didn’t see them, and you even watched all of the stray animals that scurried about the big city, always running as if they had places to be too.

You watched it all, and you don’t know when, but somewhere along the lines you started to get the feeling that maybe you were being watched, too.

You knew it was ridiculous seeing as you were alone in the tower, but the more you stayed on that balcony, the more that you were convinced that somebody had eyes on you as well. Which was plausible, but also nearly impossible.

You were fifty stories above the ground and no building even came close to the height of Stark Tower, so it would be almost impossible to see you unless someone had a telescope. But you didn’t see any anybody on the street with one, and even binoculars wouldn’t be enough to see that far up. You were a mere spec in the night, dust that could’ve easily been mistaken as a stars. There was no way that anybody could see you. They’d have to be super human or something; and all of the super humans you knew were currently out on a mission.

You shook your head.

It was impossible; or at least that’s what you told yourself until the feeling grew to be so uncomfortable that you decided to just go back inside.

You quickly gathered your things from the balcony and when you did step back in your room, you made sure to lock the door, letting out a little breath and shaking your head.

You knew it was ridiculous, but living with super soldiers and spies made you paranoid. So yeah, if your gut was telling you that someone was watching you, or at least that something was making you uncomfortable, you were going to listen.

It might just be nothing, but then again, in the city that never sleeps, almost everything was possible.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you heard it.

After all, you had been fast asleep, knocking out quick after a relaxing night and abandoning your all-nighter. You had called it a night after the incident on the balcony, and you had planned to wake up early, but not quite this early.

When you opened your eyes, it was still dark outside, but you could tell that in a few hours the sun was going to peek out. That meant it was probably around 4 a.m but you frowned, because why in the world would you be hearing things at 4 in the morning?

Things like the sliding door of your balcony opening, things like the wind as it gently blew in your room. Things like footsteps which unfortunately, you didn’t hear until it was too late.

You didn’t hear or see him until it was entirely too late. You couldn’t even process the situation, or fight him off because by the time your foggy brain woke up, he had already crossed the room; a dark shadow that jumped at you the minute you laid your eyes on him.

Then, when you felt the pinch in your neck, it was really too late.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed loudly, shock beginning to fester through your veins which quickly turned to fear as a glove hand smacked over your lips, stopping you from yelling anymore. “Ow, wha…”

“Shh,” His voice terrified you as he leaned in close to your shaking body, the silhouette of his head shaking in the city lights. “You have to be quiet, baby. Friday might hear us.”

Friday. Friday. How the hell did this person know about your AI, and most importantly, how the hell did he manage to sneak past something designed by Tony Stark himself?

How the hell did he get in your room, and what did he want?

You screamed again as the pressure from your lips was released, but you found that it was futile because for some reason, it didn’t come out quite as loud as you wanted.

Your screams were muted; low. Sluggish and sloppy, as if you were drunk. Which was ridiculous because you had refrained from raiding Tony’s stash.

There was no way that you were drunk, but as the man got up from your bed, and as you tried to make a run for it, you found that it quite literally felt like it. Your body stumbled, and a low grown escaped your lips as your knees automatically hit the floor the minute you tried to get up.

Everything was blurry and wobbly, even your screams sounding muted as you dug your fingernails into the marble floors and tried to crawl away from whoever was trying to attack you.

You were trying to do something, but it felt like the more you moved your body, the more tired you began to get.

You tried, but the man quickly rushed over and grabbed you up before you could make your escape.

“Please…please help…”

“Shh,” He cut you off again as you whimpered, him hauling you to your feet and lightly dragging you back to your bed with little resistance from you. Your body felt like literal lead, tied down and helpless.

You tried to cry out, you tried to protest as he laid you on your bed, the little nightgown that you had on riding up slowly, but you found that the sounds only came out slow, gargled. At most, all you could do was stare at the strange man as he finally decided to reveal himself.

“Shh Y/N, you don’t want to do anything that’ll alert Mr. Stark,” He said, and as he set his mask down on the edge of your bed, and as familiarity of his voice floated through your ears, your mouth dropped when you realized exactly who had snuck in your room.

“Peter?”

The realization hit you like a train, a strangle noise leaving your throat as you recognized your father’s latest protégé. He sat on your bed, fluffy brown hair and gentle eyes just as you remembered, a soft smile on his face as he looked at you.

Of course, you’d recognize him anywhere, seeing as you often interacted with him around the tower or at school.

You’d seen him in the hallways, in some of your classes, and you’d even hang out with him and his friends sometimes.

He was a senior like you, destined for MIT and an eventual spot on the Avengers, if your father had anything to say about it.

It was…it was Peter.

That awkward boy that you had mostly only seen in passing. It was Peter, the nerdy yet gold-hearted superhero that wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Peter. It had been Peter that snuck into your room.

“Hey, hey,” He reached out to touch your cheek as you slowly began to cry, the drugs taking its affects as you slump down helplessly on your mattress. You wanted to scream, you wanted to run, you wanted to slap his hand away from your cheeks as he stroked them like he was comforting you. As if he wasn’t the reason you were crying. “Don’t cry princess. Please don’t cry. I’ve been thinking about this for months and I want this to be as enjoyable as possible, so save your tears, okay?”

“Months?!” You wanted to yell out, but instead the words were trapped in your brain, ricocheting around your mind as your thoughts raced at a record pace. What did he mean by…months? Had he been planning this all along?

Oh God, he actually…

It was with another sob that you realized just how truly in danger you were, because somewhere along the lines you had missed this side of Peter and you realized that he had deliberately done this. He waited until you were alone to do this. He had waited, and he had watched you for who knows how long, and you had been oblivious to it all until this very night.

You had underestimated him, and he used it against you in the worst possible way. He had used your father and the other Avengers in the worst way, betraying their trust by stalking the person they all considered a daughter.

Peter had planned this for months. And it was with wide eyes that you saw just how prepared he was when suddenly, he pulled something out of a bag that made you cry even harder.

“I can’t wait to use this on you princess.” He held the sex toy tightly in his right hand while you attempted to kick him, but your legs wouldn’t move. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. You know I’ve thought about this for a while now, right? I’ve thought about what it would be like to pleasure you. To hold you, to taste you. I thought about your body so fucking much and honestly, I’m surprised I even waited this long.”

He chuckled, like what he said was actually funny and you let out another noise as he began to come towards you with the toy.

Suddenly, you regretted wearing a nightgown with no panties because it made it all the more easier for him to just slip it up, revealing your very naked cunt that Peter grinned at.

“It’s like you were expecting me baby,” He teased, and you cried out as he removed his gloves, allowing you to feel his touch in it’s entirety as his hands slipped over your body.

You started to struggle, but then you remembered it was only your mind in turmoil because your body didn’t seem to be moving. Whatever he had injected you with made you feel like cement, so you were helpless as his hands roamed all over your body.

You were forced to stay still as they first landed on your stomach, before daring to go up and eventually caressing your boob.

You cried out, but Peter didn’t stop due to the tears leaking down your face. In fact, you only saw him hesitate for a moment before he finally slipped his hand underneath your nightgown.

He was touching your nipple.

You wanted nothing more than to stop him, but it just wasn’t possible. You were forced to let him roll the bud between his fingers, forced to feel him touch your body. And it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that his hands were the first to ever roam your body, and you didn’t even get a say in it. You didn’t have a say in anything he planned to do to you, but you naively prayed that this was it.

You didn’t want to think about him going even further than he already had, but then he dipped his head down to your chest, and you knew that this was only the beginning.

Peter’s mouth came into contact with your nipple before you could even process it, his soft lips wrapping around the bud and his tongue darting out to lick at it as you cried.

His brown curls invaded your face as his lips remained on your breast; licking, sucking, and nagging your body into feeling pleasure that you didn’t want to feel.

He used his tongue to send sparks through your core, heat rushing through you, which you tried to stop. You tried to stop the way your lips parted, the way your legs seemed to open involuntarily. You tried to stop your brain from registering the fact that Peter’s mouth was causing you immense pleasure, because you hated yourself for even thinking that.

You were ashamed.

At your thoughts, at your weak body as Peter’s mouth finally left your breast, a small trail of saliva retreating with him. He looked up at you with a sparkle in his eyes that made your stomach lurch before he finally decided to move elsewhere. You whimpered as his hand gently opened your legs, his fingers finding the one spot you never wanted him to.

“Please…Peter don’t—”

His fingers brushed over your sensitive bud and you gasped, quiet sobs begging him not to touch you there. Unfortunately though, Peter mistook your sounds of protest as sounds of pleasure and eagerly looked up at you again.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you?” Peter chuckled, then he pressed a little harder which caused you to quiver and flutter your eyes shut in shame and pleasure. “You like me playing with your pussy, don’t you pretty baby. It’s okay…you can let me know how good it feels.”

“Please,” You opened your mouth to beg him to stop but somehow only that word came out. Peter smiled.

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. I’m gonna take care of you, all right?” He promised, and you were fearful when his hand left your clit. After a few seconds, cold metal suddenly replaced his skin, which only meant one thing.

“No—!”

Your protest was too late and even if he had heard you, he hadn’t listen to any of the other ones, so you knew he would’ve just kept going. He would’ve turned on the vibrator anyways and took pleasure in the way your body suddenly jerked — the only movement you were capable of so far as you cried out, blubbering as the vibrations travelled through your body.

Peter watched your face as your body shook, taking in the way the tears soaked your cheeks and how pretty you looked in the city lights. He took in the way your mouth was slightly open, but you hadn’t been able to form any words because you were experiencing far too much pleasure.

So much sinful pleasure, that it only made you cry and whimper. Ashamed that you were actually getting off on what Peter was doing to you and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the involuntary movements of your body anymore than you could move it, and you certainly couldn’t stop the rolls of pleasure that gathered in your core as every vibration seemed to sink into you.

You couldn’t stop the cries from your lips, the way you held eye contact with Peter as he held your hand and gently coaxed you through your orgasm.

Suddenly, your shame and humiliation was set to the side and long forgotten about when you finally did let go, letting out a strangled cry and sobbing as your first orgasm racked your body.

Your were shaking, pleasure nearly blinding you as your cum leaked out. Your brain felt like it was clouded, your vision replaced with stars but still you could see the sick smile of satisfaction on Peter’s face as he squeezed your hand gently.

“That’s it…that’s it pretty girl. Cum for me.”

“P-Peter…”

Your voice was broken, your face covered in sweat and tears to the point where you were sure you were unrecognizable. Not only that, but it seemed like every part of your body was either soaked in tears or cum now. The covers beneath you felt soaked as well, and it wasn’t until Peter stood up that you realized why.

You eyed the huge wet spot on the front of his suit and it only took you few seconds to realize what had happened.

With quivering lips, you tried to shake your head with denial but the evidence was indisputable.

It was obvious to you, to Peter, that you hadn’t just came.

You had squirted.

A strangled sob left your lips and — god, if Peter wasn’t smug before, he sure had reason to be now.

“Look at you…such a good girl. I can’t believe you actually squirted for me sweetheart. You’re gonna be nice and wet for me, I can’t wait.”

You just kept crying as everything hit you at once, your ears still ringing and your cunt still sore from your orgasm. Your first orgasm, and if that weren’t bad enough, you had also squirted all over Peter which made him think you liked it.

He thought you liked the way that he made you cum; he thought you liked being a helpless puppet, having no choice but to submit to his mercy.

He thought you wanted him inside of you, which was the worst possible scenario that you could think of.

But it was happening.

You knew it was happening because immediately after you squirted, he laid the vibrator down and in what seemed like a flash, began to strip out the suit that covered the rest of his body.

As best as you could, you tried not to look as his underwear came off as well, but you found it fruitless because Peter grabbed your chin anyway.

He grabbed your chin, and he made you look at him so that you could see his eyes. While yours were glistening with tears that he had caused, his were glistening with the admiration he held for you.

The sick obsession that made him have to have you.

He made you take a glance at what was to come, and before you could even start crying again, he let go of your chin and kissed you so passionately that had it not been for your common sense, your brain would’ve mistaken it as a kiss from a lover.

It was so soft, so passionate, that even though you knew what he was capable of, it was still hard to believe it because well…he was gentle. Gentle, like he was trying not to break you.

Even though he already had.

It seemed like he truly cared about you, and that was the worst part because you knew he wouldn’t stop. And he didn’t.

He kept kissing you and moaning in your mouth, making sure to explore every inch with his tongue and savoring your taste. You tasted sweet, but also bitter like a cherry.

Peter appreciated the irony of this as he deepened the kiss, finally maneuvering himself on top of you. You felt the weight of his body and it felt like it was gonna crush you as he spread your legs. He then settled himself between them, causing the tip of his cock to accidentally brush over your clit. You cried out, but Peter quickly swallowed your cries and there was nothing else that you could do.

This is truly what Peter believed to be right, and in that moment, you accepted defeat, numb as he pulled away from the kiss.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay princess? I’ll try to go as slow as I can,” He reassured you, pressing his forehead to yours. Your hiccups were only thing he got in response, teary eyes peeking up at him.

Through the tears, you could see him smile at you before grabbing your hands and holding them tenderly at your sides. Not that you could move anyways, but you suspect he just did it so that he could lace his fingers through yours.

Then, he spread your legs some more to line himself up with your entrance. He kissed your cheeks, your neck, and even placed tiny kisses on your nipples before he bought himself back up and looked into your eyes.

“I love you,” He said, and then he pushed into you.

“Pe—”

You gasped, as pain traveled through every part of your body, mainly concentrating in your lower regions as Peter pushed himself in and ignored the way you sobbed for him to stop.

It was like he couldn’t even hear you as his eyes fluttered shut, focusing on sinking into your cunt and pushing past every plane of resistance until he was finally where he needed to be.

Buried inside of you to the hilt, his balls against your ass as the squelch of your cum mixed in with your blood reached his ears.

He moved, and you wished you had regained enough feeling to fight him off. But you didn’t, so you were forced to lay there as Peter rocked his hips into yours, moaning like he had just bit into something sweet.

“Fuck.”

He swore as he abused your cunt, his pace fast but gentle. Peter wanted you to enjoy this, he told you, so he tried not to pound into you no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he wanted to be rough, he knew that this was your first time, and he wanted it to be memorable.

He wanted it to be special, so he held himself back and instead decided to focus on you as he continued to thrust into your heat.

He kissed you again, and then his hands left yours so that he could wrap them around your body. Pulling you close so that there truly was no space between the two of you. His chest was touching yours, his cock as deep as it could go. In that moment, you and Peter were truly combined as one, and there was nothing you could do to escape that.

There was nothing you could anymore; not even cry because he had taken your mouth from you as well.

There was nothing you could do as he moaned and fucked you and whispered sweet promises in your ear about how much he loved you, how special you were to him, and how much he couldn’t wait to fill you up.

You dreaded every word, tried to block out every whisper but it was like he was there, invading your every sense and there was nothing you could do to escape from him.

“I’m close,” Peter panted in your ear, clenching his face and slightly speeding up.

You gazed up at him, but you weren’t really looking at him, instead focusing on the ceiling as Peter used your body for his own source of pleasure. You didn’t say anything as he continued to rock his hips into yours, his trusts almost painfully passionate. Each drag of his cock against your walls felt like it had a purpose, and Peter made sure you felt every single inch of him.

There wasn’t any part of him that you didn’t feel. There was no emotion, no feeling spared.

Peter poured everything he had into you until finally, his own thread began to unwind and you winced when he suddenly stilled, cock shuttering inside of you.

You continued to look at the ceiling, but your vision became blurred as you felt his cum paint your walls, flooding directly into your womb.

Peter had gone as deep as he could to release himself inside of you, and when he was done, he collapsed and didn’t bother getting up so that you could get every last drop.

He was still inside of you to the hilt as he lay his head on your chest, squeezing you with his arms still wrapped around you.

He made no move to get up, no move to clean you or himself. He only laid there, basking in the pleasure that just happened to him.

The nightmare that just happened to you.

Peter didn’t move, only shifted as he finally looked up, resting his forehead on yours and smiling.

“I love you, princess,” He said, and suddenly, all of the lights in New York couldn’t brighten the darkness that you felt.

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

[buckysslutsblog]

Midnight snack | p.p

Warnings- smut, non-con, oral (female), unprotected sex (p in v), rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, spit kink, bondage, reader doesn’t want it, choking

Authors note- this is a dark smut, so if you don’t like it don’t read it,

__________________________________________

When you wake up you feel an intense pleasure all through your body, you feel something against your pussy but before you could react and actually think of what is causing it, you cum your legs twitching and eyes rolling back

That’s when you feel it, a hand holding your thigh down and a tongue against you, you know you fell asleep by yourself and no one else is in the apartment, when you go to move your hands you can’t and you look up seeing the familiar web.

You look back down and see Peter parker your ex, your eyes widen as he says “hey baby, I’ve missed you” as he’s smiling up at you, I go to kick my legs but they are webbed to.

“Peter stop” you say moving your hips, peter just laughs and shakes his head as he says “why would I stop when I just started sweetheart” and he starts kissing up your body stopping at your boobs as he plays with your nipples

He sucks your right nipple into his mouth as he plays with the other one, and you can help but moan for him, peter smiles when he here’s you and he starts leaving hickeys everywhere all over you

Then he reaches his hand down to grab his cock as he slides the head through your folds, tapping your clit a couple times as your legs twitch and he says, “your mine and only mine got it” then he slams into you

You both moan at the feeling your body betraying you as you move your hips to meet his, then he pulls out to just the tip and he slams back in, he does it a couple times slowly, then he goes animalistic and starts pounding into you

You moan louder as he grunts into your ear and he says “always so tight for me love” then he bites your neck sucking, one of his hands slides down your body and to your clit then he starts rubbing fast circles 

“Cum for me baby need to feel you squeeze my cock” he says into your ear as he pounds harder hitting your g spot as you cum all over his cock, but he doesn’t stop he just keeps going harder and harder

He continues to rub your clit as he grabs your neck, choking you lightly and he says “you should have known to not leave me, you stupid stupid girl” as he pounds harder, “and now your never going to be able to leave me again, your mine”

He says then chokes harder and he pounds faster and rubs your clit harder saying “cum one more time baby and I’ll cum in you then we’re done for know”

Your face drops and you say “Peter please dont cum in me” and you cum around him again as your whole body shakes and he says “to bad” then he cums to filling you up

He continues to fuck you both through the high and when you both start to get back to earth he pulls out of you slowly, watching as his cum drips out of you, he gently pushes it back in saying “can’t let any of that go to waste you need yo get pregnant”

Your frozen and you say “Peter what have you done” as you start to cry, Peter wipes your tears and holds you saying “your mine and you need to know it” then he kisses you on the forehead “your going to have my child”

_____________________________________________

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, mentions of abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You stumble out into the hallway, nearly colliding with the dingy and peeling paint on the wall. The door slams with the force of your frantic exit, nails bending painfully as you let go of the brass knob. Your heart pulses in your ears as another crash bangs from inside the apartment and your father's tirade blazes on.

You untangle your bag, the only thing you could snatch as you stepped halfway into your shoes. The doorknob twists again and you quickly flee down the hall, your father yanking at the door as it jams. You quickly veer down the staircase and only stop at the top of the next flight to pull your shoes on all the way.

You catch your breath at the front door, aware of how Mrs. Davis’ door snaps shut when you pass. You continue outside without a destination in mind. You could hide out at the library again, no one notices you there. It is a bit far to walk.

You sling the crochet bag over your head so it hangs against your hip. You reach inside and find your change purse. You don't have much after the electric bill. Two bucks, it's three to get the bus.

You huff and tuck your hand back in your bag. Your feet carry you as you wind down the street. The apathetic rush of traffic makes you feel invisible. You don't mind that, it's more dangerous to be seen.

There's nothing remarkable about you. You're taller than most girls but that's more worthy of ridicule than admiration. You wear second-hand clothing, some of it your dad's handmedowns, and hunch until your spine hurts. An elephant trying to play fawn.

You chew your lip and stop by the vintage shop. Not the Goodwill but the expensive place with the designer houndstooth and Louis Vuitton logos. In another world…

Across the street, a night club stands desolate and eerie in the daylight. A few times you passed during opening and it was rowdy and flashing. Just on your way to the bus station to spend a couple hours on a bench.

On the next street, a cafe. The place that closed then opened only weeks later. New ownership but everything else the same. The prices aren't as steep as the Starbucks kiosk near the station.

You ponder it, stopping outside as you see a woman behind the counter. You're a bit relieved it's not the usual barista. That guy with reddish hair and warm brown eyes. He likes to talk, too bad you don't.

You enter and approach the till. The woman greets you brightly, her eyes look tired, and she points out to the specials. Nope, you can only afford a tea.

You pay for the green tea and way for her to pour the hot water. As you tap your fingers on the counter, another figure appears from behind the espresso machine. It's that guy. Dang.

“Hey, done break, your turn,” he chirps, quieting as he sees you standing there. He smiles, “oh, hi, you been helped?”

You nod and look down. The woman places the cup of steaming water in front of you. You thank her and take it, turning to claim the seat in the corner.

You sit and settle in with your bag in your lap. You don't have much to do so you stare out the window. Pedestrians pass by, with purpose, some even happily.

The cafe is quiet. There's a couple nesr the opposite wall, on a date, maybe. The ambiance holds even as people come in, ordering and leaving with their drinks.

You blow on your tea and sip. You tug the string of the bag and dip it up and down. Your dad will tire himself out soon. Maybe two hours. You can't make one tea last that long.

You put your arm on the table and curl your shoulders. You trace a finger on the tabletop. You usually keep a book in your bag but you took it out to read last night.

You frown. It shouldn't be like this but that's just how it is. You don't have much of a choice. Your dad is your family, your only family, all you have.

You wiggle your nose and swallow back your self-pity. No use crying. Especially here.

“Hi,” the voice frightens you as the barista approaches with a cinnamon bun on a plate, “uh, I'm Peter, remember? Saw you last week?”

You blink. You press your palms to the cup and feel the heat threaten to blister. He's short, his shoulders broad, and his posture straight.

“Er, you want a cinnamon bun?”

“I… no, I don't have the money,” you rasp and sip your tea.

“On the house,” he insists, “really, there was a mix up this morning and we made a batch too many.”

“That's nice but… no thank you.”

You know what it is to accept favours. They always come back to debts. You lower your head again.

“You don't like sweets? We have quiche–”

You shake your head. He hovers, waiting. You turn to watch out the window again. You wince as the plate clinks onto the table. He leaves the bun there and goes back behind the counter. You ignore it.

Maybe you won't come here anymore.

[deftmeat]

‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ stepbrother!peter parker obsessed with you

NSFW ( mostly just a self-indulgent au )

• reposted since tumblr hid it •

w a r n i n g : contains non con and perv!peter

before tony stark had settled down with pepper potts, he had been with another woman. but after a messy divorce and an unwanted child, he decided to cut off all contact with her.

that woman was your mother. you had never met your father until she handed you off to him one day in the chilly autumn of new york.

after turning 18, she had decided to kick you out and dump you at the very front doors of stark tower.

with loose, messily packed luggage and fat tears staining your face, a man with short curly hair opened the door to you.

of course, later you learned his name was happy and tony trusted him greatly. happy also seemed to willfully obey his every order so you assumed there was a lot of trust and history between them. but you also wondered if tony ever told anyone about you.

it didn’t surprise you though, when you were brought up to tony, escorted by happy, that your father had no idea who you are. and when you explained yourself, he acted shocked you existed.

that’s how you ended up being employed by tony himself, starting out more as an errand runner or assistant to his incessant requests.

you couldn’t lie and say you enjoyed the first few months helping out around the avengers tower and catering to people who intimidated you- but after two years you had come to form closer relationships with those on the team and were more than just a nuisance.

but there was one other person you spent a lot of time with.

peter parker.

you were basically the same age as him, both the same generation and shared the exact same humour. your friendship with peter was nothing like the ones you possessed with the other, older avengers.

your texts between each other consisted of memes and spammed word vomit. peter spilled his secrets and his fears to you while you comforted him and listened. he didn’t see you any differently despite being aware of your hidden relation to his boss, respecting you enough to never bring it up.

there were times where you’d catch him staring at you for too long or you’d accidentally touch each other and he’d linger… just a little bit. you only brushed it off that he was clingy and touch starved.

alas, peter knew sometimes you would feel embarrassed of the fact you were tony’s kid especially when tony never liked to share details about himself to his coworkers. a few of them had been told too but treated you like you weren’t the daughter of one of the most narcissistic men they knew.

another reason you got along well with everyone. so much that you had been silently promoted to aiding in missions and able to train side by side with peter and the rest of the avengers.

when sparing with peter, he’d purposefully sweep your legs out from under you, only to collect your wrist in both of his hands and slam them to the mat, his thighs locked on either side of your hips and his face unnecessarily lowered to hover over yours.

you found most of your sessions under him and while it frustrated you that he beat you every single time, you couldn’t help but notice the look on peter’s face when he did trap you to the floor.

you also noticed how as soon as he got off of you, peter was quick to end the sparring match- practically running out of the gym, his pace fast and posture hunched over. maybe peter was just weird in general?

but he couldn’t help it. seeing you under him, looking vulnerable and so damn pretty like that… his cock swelled with blood and his balls ached with the need to breed you. every. single. time.

the feeling didn’t go away, even after may had died. despite the fact peter had become a mess, you were right there, picking up the pieces that used to be him and taping them back together as best as you could.

that’s when tony had made the executive decision to take peter in. he reasoned that he was already like a father figure to the poor boy, nothing would change. tony obviously had a soft spot for him.

at least, that’s what he said to convince you. and you couldn’t turn peter away when everyone he loved was no longer in his life.

so he moved into the building, took all of his belongings and clothes with him. peter put university on hold while he figured things out. you were understanding and tony- supportive. that’s when he could see the resemblance between you two. you both cared for him. and he suggested to become apart of your family.

of course tony took it the wrong way and surprised peter by adopting him, not even telling you beforehand. you were both speechless but for different reasons.

when peter stroked his leaking dick at night, giving into his fantasies of pushing your head down and dragging his red sensitive tip across your slit and deep inside your soaked walls; he could do so freely. now? now he couldn’t.

he couldn’t have you the way he wanted. peter was definitely frustrated at the new dynamic between you and him but he found it as an excuse to freely walk into your room whenever he wanted. why not? he was your step brother now.

it creeped you out at first, how he would sometimes silently slip past your doorway and make himself at home, occasionally starting up random conversations as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

eventually you got used to it. sometimes leaving your room to grab a snack or go to the bathroom. you could trust peter not to break anything. he was such a sweet and quiet guy.

and that’s when he would take his chance, going through your drawers and stealing little things of yours.

the sheer panties your best friend from high school had given you for your birthday. a photo of you in a revealing bikini from a trip to the beach when you used to live with your mom. one of the many bottles of body spray that littered your vanity. lotion that you used all the time. another pair of underwear that were less appealing but you wore all the time when you wanted to dress comfortably.

peter even started to lay on your bed on his stomach as soon as you left the room and grind his hips down, rubbing his jean clad bulge against the soft blanket you slept under. he’d stick his face down into your pillow and hump your mattress, veiny hands fisting any fabric he could grab and pulling it closer to his nose, smelling you while he thought of raw dogging your puffy pussy in your own bed.

just when he was on the verge of cumming in his pants, you’d always walk in and he’d feign innocence. pretending he wasn’t just dry humping your bed like a greedy rabbit. you were never the wiser.

you noticed certain things of yours started to go missing little by little until you barely had things to wear or use. you assumed it was the dryer eating your entire wardrobe so you complained to tony and he gave you his card to buy an entire new one.

he didn’t want you going alone though so he made peter go with you. you weren’t entirely thrilled since had he had been glued to your hip almost constantly as of recently but you went along with it, knowing that if you didn’t agree, tony wouldn’t let you go at all.

so when you get to the small shop on the busy corner, peter wouldn’t stop suggesting pieces for you to buy or even try on. you found that they were either way too revealing or borderline inappropriate for him to request. but he wouldn’t stop insisting, going as far as to shove a whole armful of things into you and pushing you to the changing room very eagerly.

“i’m just trying to help.” he told you before closing the door behind you once you fully stepped inside. it didn’t help that every two minutes he’d knock and ask if you had finished, that he wanted to see what they looked like on you.

you obliged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. you were exposed- not to mention in front of peter. your step brother.

you left the small room in the first thing he had shown you, a size too small t-shirt and extremely tiny booty shorts. but peter seemed to hype you up, smiling enthusiastically. his eyes held a glossed over look while his gaze slowly went down your body, taking in how your skin would stick out and show where it probably shouldn’t be.

“okay turn around.” he spoke abruptly, making your face twist into one of uncertainty. he shook his head and merely spoke down to you like you were playing dumb; “come on, i just wanna see what the back looks like.”

huffing out a sigh, you reluctantly shifted your weight and spun to show your backside.

when you did though- you swore you heard a camera clicking but when you whipped your head around to catch whoever had taken your picture without consent.. no one was there.

“peter..?” you meekly stared around, looking for the boy but he had disappeared as if in thin air. the only other people you saw were two employees reorganizing hangers across the wall.

your stomach twisted and you shrunk back into the changing room, not bothering to try the other pieces on and put your own clothes back on, feeling anxious that someone was watching you.

as soon as you went to open the door, peter was standing right in front of the entrance- making you jump and drop the large pile of things you were holding.

“woah, sis. calm down. it’s just me.” he laughed it off, giving you that boyish smile, peter’s eyes never leaving yours. you felt your face flush and apologized- pushing past him to put the exposing clothes back on the racks where he had gotten them from.

ever since then, you felt violated. you avoided peter. you started to ask FRIDAY to lock your door with an access code. you weren’t entirely sure it had been him but he was starting to freak you out even after that day.

you’d wake up multiple nights in a row, in a cold sweat, absolutely sure you could feel someone else had been inside your room besides yourself.

you’d place your hoodie down on the couch to grab a drink, coming back to find it gone.

peter would stay up for two hours after you went to bed, wanting to be certain you had fallen asleep before typing in the access code to your room- watching you put it in while he stuck to the ceiling one day.

he’d quietly shuffle in and see your phone beside your pillow and your face scrunched up while you dreamt. he’d whisper your name just to double check then crept over to your bed, hovering down to stare.

the next thing he knew, he was fucking hard- just by looking at you. that’s what you did to him and you didn’t even know it. his step sister always teasing him, purposefully taunting him with something that was forbidden for peter.

but he bottled up his frustration, struggling to push down his jeans as silently as possible. the slight sound of denim rubbing against itself was drowned out as his pants clung just below his knees. he hadn’t worn a belt for this very reason. wanted easy access while keeping you unaware of his presence.

peter bit his lip when his warm palm finally made contact with his cock, the angry tip already leaking and spilling down to weave through his fingers. “mmshit..” he choked out, careful not to be too loud when he started to stroke himself. his eyes were locked onto your sleeping face, his tongue darting out to drag across his bottom lip with desire. desire for you.

since he couldn’t have you, this was the best he could do, flicking his wrist to increase the speed that his hand jerked his dick, his cheeks wearing a dark flush the faster he went.

“yeah.. wanna breed my lil’sis.. make you mine, baby..” peter muttered, leaning forward so that his cock was right beside the pillow, the back of his hand almost ghosting your nose every time he moved up the entirety of his throbbing length.

he had only touched himself above you one other time but every single night since he saw how your ass looked in those small shorts- he couldn’t help but visit you while you were unconscious, whispering about how badly he wanted to feel your pretty cunt wrapped around his dick, about how good he bets you taste. but he was growing restless, as he confided in your passed out form- he needed more.

which lead to two nights ago. peter couldn’t help but jack off while sitting at the chair in front of your desk in the corner, listening to your soft breaths, one your previously used panties stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet - forcing peter to spurt cum all over his hand and bare thighs.

tonight was no different but he was feeling bolder, the aggressive animalistic demand his mind screamed at him to paint your face and mark you as his. to see how hot you looked while his warm sticky seed dripped down your lips and chin and onto your sheets, ruining them. ruining you.

a low groan rumbled in his chest when you shifted, your face now just under his slapping balls. peter almost came at the sight of your unconscious submission, your eyes fluttering and your lips just barely parted. ready to swallow the load he could feel about to explode from his swollen cock head.

his other hand not gripping his dick, shot out to claw at your head board to steady himself from falling on top of you, his body tingling with pure heat. he could barely stand, his knees buckling and the strong muscles in his pale thighs rippling with the effort to maintain his stance.

he was sure he could last another few minutes but when you moved your arms under your blanket, the sudden action pulled it down, revealing the loose tank top you had chosen to wear to bed.

peter’s eyes flitted down to your tits, and upon noticing you hadn’t worn a bra, your nipples stiff and pressing into the fabric- he let out a loud moan, massive ropes of white cum pouring out of his cock.

a few spurts hit your bare collarbones, your chest, the soft blanket draped over you and of course your pretty face. he watched as the thick goo caught on the tip of your nose and bottom lip- gravity causing it to run inside your mouth and down your cheeks onto the pillow.

“fuuuck.” peter cursed at the sight of his cum soaked step sister, all laid out for him.

when you felt something hot splatter your skin you flinched. it had made you stir. blinking your messy eyelids, trying to get whatever it was out of your eyes- you were fully awakened when you heard that familiar click of a camera.

rising your hand up to drag your numb fingers across your face, whatever was on it stuck to your digits and webbed between them. then you noticed it was also in your mouth so you leaned forward and let it drizzle out past your lips and land on your sheets. then you saw movement in the darkness and your unfocused gaze lifted to just barely be able to make out what it was. or who it was.

your body ran cold- you were first met with a cock that was still strikingly hard, leaking and pointing right at you, followed by hair framing the base of the shaft, accompanied by a small trail of the same hair up to below his bellybutton.. peter’s face above it all.

he lowered his phone with clouded eyes, panting heavily and cheeks flushed. his eyes on you.

“…pete?”

[clarks-letterman]

lost in reality | perv!peter parker x gender-neutral!reader

a/n — this is not what i usually post! there was going to be more smut but i didn't know how far to go with it, so if anyone wants to see something more extended, let me know! (Peter is a bit of a perv in this but i tried to make him get his comeuppance) gender-neutral, i think

warnings — smut! 18+, some brief facefucking, gore (sorta mild, but don't read if you don't like it!)

summary — Peter uses the reality stone to practice his pickup skills. With such a powerful device at his disposal, what could go wrong?

words — 3.7k

~~~

A mesh of red and blue ambled to the quarters of the Avenger's compound. No rush nor worry affected Peter as he kept one foot light over the other, heading into each step, furthering him down the hallway. It was another neighborhood saved and another day where he would be free from the thoughts of letting his powers go to waste, and his life could finally regress into normalcy for the start of the new day. While he had a kick in his step from how smoothly the night had gone—and how much his mentor acknowledged the fact—Peter felt the need for something a little more caffeinated to help him instead.

As Peter returned from his latest venture, taking no rush to get to his room, you were on your way out of the resident android's room. In your hand, a pad of Stark Industries-branded notepad paper with all but one of the Avengers' coffee orders scribbled down filled it. You would not be in Vision's room with the question of coffee being the reason, something he was physically incapable of drinking, but Wanda frequented the room, and it was likely that she was in there. You were right to assume that, and now, you planned to check the door just further down the hall to see if Peter was around.

It turned out that you did not need to go far; the bright colors of his suit caught your eye the second you stepped out into the corridor. Anything resembling Peter's mood of being on top of the world was gone, and so was that little kick that pushed him further—you could almost see him lose it in his eyes once he saw you, even from afar. You approached him with one thing on your mind, the pen and paper used to record everyone's order at the ready.

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

There was an awkward silence between the following words until you reminded him by tapping your pen to the side of the notepad to draw his attention to it and speaking up, "Your order?"

"What?" He was already blowing it. Peter glanced down to his red-spandex feet and then back to you, his voice returning to its natural pitch, "Oh, yeah, uh—"

Peter paused. He realized he did not know what he wanted, and while you found the evident attempt to appear cool somewhat endearing, you could have already been heading out to get coffee for everyone by now. Almost by reflex, you started to tap the pen against the nearly completed list of coffee orders ranging from simple menu items to oddly specific modifications to non-existent drinks. And in seconds, the pen slipped from your grasp and unceremoniously landed on the laminate of the hallway floor.

"Shit," you reached down to grab the ballpoint, but Peter stopped you.

"I'll get it."

He attempted to bend over, only to find his hand stuck to the wall. Peter quickly stood straight, subtly tugging his hand away from the wall without tearing a new hand-shaped hole in the plaster and paint. In his panic, Peter's hand stuck itself to the wall, and no matter how hard he tried to pull away from it, his hand wouldn't budge. That left you to get the dropped pen, reaching for it without the trouble of spider-centric powers messing with you.

You looked to Peter, scribbling down his name next to Tony's order, "I'll just get you what Tony gets and leave you alone with your hand. See you later, Peter."

With that, Peter was left alone and sufficiently embarrassed as you strode down the hall, and, finally, his hand let him free once you were gone. He scuttled to his room in a bout of shame and locked the door, heading to his mirror with a plan to practice asking you out. It was a simple mirror resting on the opposite side of the wall that had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object that could neither sway nor influence his spider abilities. He planned on using the reflective rectangular sheet as a stand-in for you but decided to change himself into something that didn't remind him of the awkward encounter he had moments ago.

Now, he stared at himself in the length of the full-body mirror, dressed in a tee sporting Midtown's gold and navy-blue colors and a simple pair of beige cargo pants. It was more on your level, casual clothes that were unlike the striking symbolism of his superhero suit. Peter hoped it would make him feel more comfortable talking to you, as he wouldn't discern the need to be perfect in everything he does around you. He could be Peter.

The first words he spoke to himself in the mirror were natural, not meant to sound broody or cool. It was how he usually talked: voice cracks and diffidence-galore, "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to swing me to get coffee with you?"

Peter realized his slip-up and started the question over again.

"Oh my God, that's so funny that you get coffee!" He placed a hand over his chest with a fake smile to match, "I love caffeine and wanted to know if you would drink me. I mean, drink it with me?"

“Hey, I was just in the neighborhood—saving it, and all. Coffee, you-me? Then, we could come back here for. . .” He paused, knowing that he could never be that smug with you—he could barely get his powers to work! How would the Parker-Charm not blow up on ignition? “Okay, dial it back, Pete.”

"I'm hopeless," Peter let his head fall, staring at the floor. He could hardly watch himself fumble in the mirror, but the glint of a red sheen in the mirror pulled him back—the reality stone, sitting on one of the few bookshelves resting against the walls of his room. This one housed various meticulously assembled Star Wars-themed Lego sets, and the stone quickly became an amenity on the set of Boba Fett's Starship. Could he use it for this, of all things? If he did use it, it would only be for a couple of minutes. For practice, he told himself.

Many people would probably ask why a teenager would have one of the most mighty pieces of rock sitting on a shelf in his bedroom, and well, Peter wouldn't know the answer himself as to why he was allowed to keep it. According to Tony, he was a good kid, and the rest of the team knew he wouldn't use it for anything malicious, like obliterating half of all human existence. So, it was a souvenir, a relic that Peter never utilized for anything apart from letting it be some seriously cool decor and a piece he constantly bragged about to his only two friends.

He turned away from the mirror, retrieved the stone from its entrapment in the plastic bricks, and returned to his full-length reflection. The jagged edges dug into the soft inside of his palm in retaliation to the pressure as he squeezed it with a closed fist. With a single thought—one that held details of nearly everything about you—a soft ring of smoke formed a couple of feet away from him on the carpet. His heart thrummed as it quickly moved upward, revealing your form as it went. After a few moments, the puff of smoke faded as it rounded your head, topping off the manifested version of yourself.

Nothing could compare to the real you, but this was close.

The imagined version of you standing before Peter looked like the spitting image of you, almost to the point where, if dressed the same, it would be impossible to tell the two of you apart. Almost. But, there was one thing that let Peter tell the visually deceitful version of you apart from the real one: he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He figured that, while you looked the same on the outside, the inside was missing a few vital features of the real you.

Regardless, Peter struggled to remember that information since your lesser interpretation was still stunning enough to make his heart sink into the never-ending pit in his stomach. His feelings got the better of him, and Peter started his practice in err from the moment he opened his mouth.

He held the stone tight, waving his other hand to you, "Hey—hi, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're Peter." You stated it as if he should have known that already, and he noted it. From what he could tell, you had at least some part of the memory of your actual self, so maybe this version of you could provide an accurate reaction to asking you to get coffee with him.

"Okay, cool. Cool. Yeah, that's. . . cool," Peter trailed.

"Why do you keep saying cool?"

The only problem was that you were real. Unduly real. Down to the slightest mannerisms that anyone but Peter would be able to catch when they spent time with you, and with your stunning looks and perfect quirks brought about by the stone, Peter could remember everything about you. He could hardly hear the absence of your heartbeat from his' sonority, ultimately distracting himself from his original intent.

"So, what did you wanna ask me?"

"You. . . you ask a lot of questions. But, I wanted to know if you could—"

Peter was finally going to get the words out, albeit to someone who was only pretending to be you. He wouldn't have to worry about finishing that project he procrastinated on—this would be his big success of the day. But his web-shooter had gone off erroneously across the room, spraying against the walls and pouring onto the floor from its canister. He jumped away from the source and nearly dropped the stone in the process.

Peter's mind was fleeting, even his rehearsal was going wrong, and he immediately thought of an old trick for speaking to people that he hadn't needed since a young age—he imagined you in your underwear. He didn't mean for it to happen, but if he thought it, the stone made it a reality for as long as he held the little rock. He watched as a red puff of smoke took your clothes into the air, vanishing from your body in less than a second. Underneath, a simple pair of boxer briefs clung to your nether region. Maybe it wasn’t all about the practice to Peter. His mind had thought of this, so it couldn't be that bad to indulge in it.

"Could you come over here?" He asked, throat dry. He needed to feel you to confirm he had not gone completely insane from one too many hits on the head. Peter defeatedly took a few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "Please?"

His heart pounded with each step you took, accepting his wish to draw near. Peter could not help but watch your vulnerability follow ostensibly close behind. In just one beat, you stood directly in front of him. He watched your knees rise and fall on either side of his legs as you sat on his thighs. Peter felt the warmth of your presence, the surprising weight of you on his hairless and sinewy thighs, even if you were empty inside.

Peter was bristling, brown eyes wandering over your exposed form. His body felt immovable, no matter how much he wished to drop the stone and watch you vanish. His head was the only thing not to freeze, the rest of his body turning into a well-sculpted monolith. His jaw moved with a bit of tension, "I didn't ask you to do it like this."

"No, but you thought it."

"How did you. . . ?"

"You thought that, too."

Peter realized that he was practically having a conversation with himself, just through the guise of your face. The details became more apparent; the color of your eyes, the set of your mouth, and the same smile lines appeared as he thought about its utter perfection. He connected that now, asking you to come closer only worsened his issue. Your presence over his prominent bulge made it push the limits of its cotton confines. Slowly, his marble arm broke from his reserved mold, and an empty hand cupped your cheek the same way he had always thought about doing it. He would use both, but one was occupied with creating his living dream. Then his hand slid away and around to the back of your neck, your hair brushing his chewed fingernails and overly scraped knuckles.

He knew that guiding you into the kiss was redundant as he could think about it, but this was far more passionate. As he brought you close, the thought of your smell and the feeling of hot breath joining in concordant timing against each other's skin started to fill his head. At the touch of your lips to his, Peter kissed like someone who had nothing to lose. Like he didn't have the responsibility of seeming to have it all together placed foremost. Like he could be a needy and desperate mess for more than a passing swing around New York. Only now, and only because of you.

His impetuous thinking decided that taking care of his problem now would mean that he could resolve everything else later. He needed to take care of it now; it was the only thought running through his head. Desire.

Breaking away, Peter silently commanded you to slide off your boxers and get on your knees. He caught a glimpse of you as you followed his direction, surprised by how his mind subconsciously filled in the gaps for everything he had never seen.

Your hands worked in a way that left their presence unknown until they were hooked into the band of his boxers, easily tugging down on the well-worn stitching to free Peter's springy dick. He watched your eyes ogle it and how you took it into your hand without a second thought, and while he filled your hand well, he couldn't help but think about his inadequacy. He had seen his teammates' sizes after sharing training sessions with them. Not that he was looking on purpose, but mostly out of insecurity. Peter already paled in comparison to the heights and builds of the others, and while he was far from small, they didn't make him look all that great. Peter started to wonder if the stone affected him in the same way it did you.

With a single thought, he decided to test it. He watched his shaft grow bigger and chub up with a thicker girth. Your hand could barely wrap around it as it had with his true size. It felt like an innocuous veneer to gaining the confidence that he never had. As a result, he was eager to get you on him and make you squirm like one of the criminals he spun webs around.

In seconds, your lips formed an imperfect circle and took the head of the arachnid, and the rest of him, as if it were nothing. Your lips brushed his decent smattering of hair around the base of his cock without convulsion. This version of you had a throat that fit around him like a cock-sleeve, hugging his girth without any of the need for restraint.

"No gag reflex? This is better than any toy I ever made."

Peter's hands found their way back to the rear of your head, controlling the pace at which you took him for his own pleasure. The sheer feeling of something far better than lubed-up rubber made him go wild.

At a certain point, he couldn't remember when his mind started to break reality further than he thought until he was suddenly yanked back to it. Peter started to feel effervescent guilt towards his actions. This is what he wanted, but not how he wanted to get it. Quickly, Peter felt the heavy weight on his chest return, the need to right himself by putting an end to this. He hated that he changed himself to impress something that wasn't even you. He wondered what his mentor would think, what you would think, or how you would react. A small shift inside him sent that weight toward his hand, the one he held the stone in, and it went from its dormant glim keeping the illusion alive to a bright shine, creating something new.

"Get off, get off, please," Peter asked, thinking the words in his head as hard as he could to free himself from his twisted fantasy. You let his stiff, unrelieved dick pop out of your mouth and got off your knees.

"What's wrong, Peter?" He had thought that, too. What was wrong with him?

He could barely stand to face you, but he needed to acknowledge you to make you leave. When he did work up the nerve to look in your direction, the guilt glared back at him. He felt like a creepy monster for even thinking it was a good idea to give in to his urges. The feeling overtook him so much that he didn't even realize your gradual change.

At first, it was your face. The pleasureful expression turned into a sour one, eyebrows funneling together and your upper lip upturned. But, the features of your face pressed forward as if they were made of putty and someone was trying to claw their way out. They stretched out and ballooned until they burst, leaving you headless. Your body went without a head for a few seconds before the more seasoned details of his mentor formed in your absence.

He kept his hand flat, wicking it away from his body and the rest of his arm with the hope that the stone would fall off, but his powers had already made that choice for him. Then, he thought of his suit, his web-shooters, and the communicator that could signal Tony. If he drew attention to the issue, it would resolve itself, but could he successfully explain everything as if it were the typical morning paper arriving at the doorstep? He could try, or at the very least, lie. But that would never solve this issue, though, not in the long run.

Peter formed a mental map of the fastest route to his closet in his head and decided that his backup web-shooters might be strong enough to hold the illusion down and give him time to pry the stone from his nonreciprocating palm. He turned, locking eyes with the monster as it started changing again.

Peter looked on in horror, the stone shining its brightest and shading the monster in terrifying red like a stop sign you see at the last minute when your heart sinks at the thought of being crushed. The soft tear of wet, stretching flesh and its stringy reformation flushed his ears as the beast before him grew. The harsh snap and sound of bones splintering from the fattening weight pierced his sensitive ears; nothing new to him at this point in his life, but he had never heard so many cracks and gushing wounds. Yet, through all the bodily changes, Peter never broke his stare with the amalgamation of his worst thoughts. Its eyes never left him, either. The cold and frighteningly dead stare of non-existent emotion didn't phase him until he heard a heartbeat, one that he believed came from the creature itself.

However, it wasn't the monster's—it was yours, heavy-thudded blood-pumping. The real you and your usually pleasant voice calling for his response. From the other side of the door, he heard you pleading for him to answer and affirm that he was okay. He figured that you must have overheard his distress and the ensuing raucous.

Peter reached for the stone but stopped. Everything was gone. His suit still sat in a messy pile on the floor, but the webbing was gone from the walls. The stain on the carpet was no longer there, and his pants were the only thing absent from his body, but nothing left the confines of his boxers. Had all of it really been in his head?

He quickly answered the door without any precaution, seeing your face still intact.

"Hey, I got you something different than Tony's. I was in line and remembered when you drank out of his cup by mistake and spat it all over the counter. Are you okay? I thought I heard a girl screaming."

“Thank you, and it wasn't a. . . never mind. Do you want to come in and hang?”

“Yeah! But get some pants on first, Spidey. I can't have my thoughts get to me.”

[shayyprasad]

faults | peter parker

summary: peter's a nice guy, you liked him. key word being liked.

warning: non-con, slut-shaming (no nsfw/smut)

pairing: dark!peter x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k+ words (i've never done dark!peter before, just playing around with the idea)

check out my masterlist!

this can technically be read as either a 2nd part to this, or a stand-alone!

if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

(first person)

loud music drummed in my ears as narrowly avoided people. if i'm being honest, i'm not quite sure why i agreed to this in the first place.

aliyah, my best friend of seven years, was dead-set on planning a party for me. what type of person would i be to let her down like that? so naturally, i agreed, right?

only now was i regretting this.

the thing is, when she said "party", i thought she meant a couple people. maybe some school friends. i thought that spencer, this guy i just recently started going out with would be there too, but he's just ghosted me. like completely.

i haven't heard from him or anything, sucks, kinda.

...peter. he'd was coming, too.

i wasn't sure what was going on between us. it was subtle flirting, and i thought it was platonic. don't get me wrong, i really did like him at first, but now i'm not sure.

yeah, he's hot. but also not my type. granted, i don't really have a type, though i do think we'd be better off as friends. also, he wasn't the same as he used to be. and i know something's changed, even if i can't pinpoint what it is.

but lately, i'm not sure if we're on the same page about that. everyone thinks we're dating, because apparently you can't be just friends with a guy.

i'm genuinely unsure how to break that to him.

we did try one date, if you could even call it that. peter took me to the movies, but he never quite clarified what it was.

technically, i was a minor at that time, so maybe it was a friendly thing.

it didn't matter though, i told him that i wasn't interested in him. also... spencer, right?

spencer was a guy i'd been talking to, and i won't lie, he's pretty cute. 

i don't know. i try not to think about it because it makes my brain hurt. so, uh, yeah. that's that.

lost in my ever loving train of thoughts, i wasn't watching where i was going, and i ran into someone.

not just someone.

peter, of all people. the one guy i was trying to avoid.

lovely. absolutely lovely.

"heyyy, birthday girl! how's the party?"

"uh. yeah, it's... awesome," i winced.

"not your scene? okay, but, like, bright side?" he paused, as if he were waiting for me to say something, but when i didn't, he continued. "you're a legal adult! not a minor anymore, right?"

he had this unusual twinkle in his eye, like there was more to unpack. peter pulled me close to him, chugging wherever it was in the red solo cup he had in his hand.

pete's hand... was lower than comfortable, but i figured it was best not to say anything.

it was obvious he was totally out of it, and i inhaled sharply at the sharp stench of alcohol.

"wanna get out of here?" he asked, gripping me harder.

"um..." i wasn't sure what he was implying, because he literally could. not. take me anywhere.

"c'mon."

"wait, i—"

too late. i was already being dragged out the door. pete brought me out in front of his car... well, his old truck.

"no, no, no. you're way too drunk to drive, peter. you aren't taking me anywhere."

he groaned, rolling his eyes. "buzzkill."

i inhaled sharply, stopping myself from getting upset. he wouldn't normally do something like this... right?

"all right, fine, fine," he slurred. "h-how about... ooh! let's go to my place!"

i hesitated, unsure of how comfortable i felt with that. especially since he'd been so weird, with all the touching. i knew that he didn't live in a dorm and—

wait, what?

no, no. peter and i were friends, and i could trust him, right? it could have been the alcohol that was making the edges of my brain turn fuzzy, but i finally agreed.

"um, okay."

"mm. it's like..." pete hiccuped, and mentally facepalmed. "somewhere here."

"you're lucky i know the way, dummy." i said, smacking his head. he did nothing but grin back at me.

we walked in silence, or i did really, while he babbled on about the most random things. i didn't mind it, considering he was drunk.

it was chilly outside, and the cold air nipped at my skin, making me shiver. peter must have noticed this, because he swung a hand over my shoulders, lazily pulling me close.

i thought it best not to say anything, and also, he was warm. so, i guess i wasn't complaining all that much.

eventually, we got to his place. he fumbled with the keys, trying to shove it into the lock. unsuccessfully, might i add.

getting tired, i took them from him, unlocking the door.

"there we go." i pushed him inside, shutting the door behind me. "how about we get you come water?" peter didn't argue as i pulled open a cabinet, grabbing a cup. i filled it up with water for him and handed it over.

"drink it. all of it."

"yes, mom."

it seemed like that helped him sober up slightly, and i flopped down on the couch. that party had exhausted me altogether. peter was quiet as he sat down next to me, rubbing his eyes.

he looked over at me, but i kept my eyes fixed at the tv in front. i was flipping though channels, trying to find something good.

"look at me," he whispered.

i sucked in a breath, turning my head to do so, "yeah?"

and then, that's when it happened. so quickly and roughly, i didn't even register it. because one second we were face to face, and the next, he was grabbing my face, kissing me.

instantly, i pulled away, looking at him in horror. "what the fuck, peter? you can't— you can't do that!"

"do what?" he stared dumbly.

i just blinked at him, confused. "i..."

he kissed me, without consent. that wasn't okay, right? peter just looked at me, raising an eyebrow. was this because he was drunk?

"well, i- you just kissed me?"

"so? i thought you were chill. besides, you were basically asking for this."

what did he mean? asking for it? i wasn't asking for anything. i didn't even like him like that, and i thought he knew that. well, i mean, i was pretty sure. kind of. 

"b-but i wasn't." i was trying to make my voice more firm, but it probably (most likely) sounded very pathetic. clearing my throat, i tried again, "peter, i don't like you that way. as a friend, of course, but not... not more than that. this one time it's okay, since i guess it's also on me for not making that clear."

"don't like me that way? are you serious?"

"well-"

"you come around, to my house, dressed in that, and you expect me to think we're just friends? i did you the favor of waiting until you were 'of legal age' and all that crap, so what the fuck are you on about?"

"pe-"

"you've literally been sleazing around like a slut, practically begging for attention."

no, he was reading this wrong. i met him at the cafe i worked at, and we hit it off. as friends. besides, he was older than me. well, not by much, but still. and what did he mean by "slut"? it was my birthday party! that i didn't even want to be at! peter was the one who invited me here, right?

"and, on top of that, you've been leading me on. now that's fucked up."

"leading-? yes, okay, maybe a little. and- and i'm really sorry about that, but-" i backed up into the couch, trying to move away from him.

"i love you, y/n/n. and," he scoffed, "and i can treat you way better then any of these other guys."

love? he loves me? how- we've only known each other for a couple months. 

i thought, if anything, this was platonic flirting. was this really my fault?

"i think i should go, peter, we can talk later." i was uncomfortable now. no, past that.

i was scared. 

peter was scaring me.

"i'm not into you, and i'm-"

"seeing that other guy?" he finished. "what was his name, again? spencer? ever wonder what happened to him?" there was a dangerous look in his eye, and that's all it took for me to understand.

"oh my god, what did you do?"

"what i needed to," peter pinned my hands above the wall, "i was gonna wait, and do this the nice way, but you've left me with no choice."

"no, please, peter," i choked out, tears streaming down my face. 

"this is your fault, y/n."

and it must have been. i hurt him, so this was only fair. 

right?

taglist!

@whatsupstark

[spider-stark]

A DARK AGE - PREVIEW

a tasm fan fiction // coming june 2023 // click here to read notes

“Spider-Man’s not a murderer.” You weren’t entirely sure who you were attempting to convince with the statement; Jameson or yourself.

Jameson’s shoulders lifted into a lazy shrug, leaning back in the rickety chair. You knew his opinion on Spider-Man, knew his stance on the matter. Still, even he knew that Spider-Man had never crossed that line before. “No, he isn’t.” He agreed with you. “But he’s about to be. He’s the only one that can be linked to the crime scene. If Sytsevich dies—and it’s only a matter of time—then Spider-Man’s the one who goes down for it.”

Your mind was reeling, gaze falling to the floor. Coffee still leaked from your cup, causing the already prominent stain to grow in size, but you didn’t care.

New York had already begun to turn on Spider-Man. The city that he had saved time and time again had grown to hate him, unable to forgive him for abandoning them entirely, for leaving them to wonder if their beloved hero was even still alive. And to come back like this? To come back a murderer?

“It’ll turn into a man-hunt.”

There was no other outcome for it, both of you knew that much. There was already an eerie sense of unrest that had settled amongst the city in Spider-Man’s absence; and if it was confirmed that their former symbol of hope had abandoned his own code of ethics? The world would turn to nothing but chaos.

It would be the dawn of a new age.

A dark age.

bonus teaser scene - peter parker dialogue from A Dark Age

[yichuuonvenus]

The Willow Maid

Dark!Peter Parker x Reader

~Description~

You were enchanting… Everything about you made him floored by you from the way you smiled to the way you moved. Your hair always seemed to shine in the moonlight. Just like right now.

~Warnings~

Rape/Non-con, Possessive Behavior, Face Slapping, Dryad!reader, Hunter!Peter Parker, Fantasy AU

You were enchanting…

Everything about you made him floored by you from the way you smiled to the way you moved. 

Your hair always seemed to shine in the moonlight. 

Just like right now.

Peter couldn’t stop staring at you. He came across you suddenly when he heard a voice singing. The music that came from your lips had him enchanted by you. It was so soft and sweet. It sounded like a song that was meant for him. 

You were like a dream to Peter. A beautiful magical dream he didn’t want to wake from. He knew from the first song your voice prettily sang you were rightfully his. 

He wanted only him to hear your sweet loving songs. For him to be the only one you sang to. That’s what he decided the day he wanted to take you away and marry you. 

He followed you every day constantly and marked what you did, how you did it, why you did it. He figured out that you lived on the willow tree. Sleeping in the sturdier part of the branches. There you would make blankets out of the yarn-like leaves and sing your heavenly songs. 

You never left the forest, or the willow tree. It was like a post. He noticed how you would hug the tree and talk to it as if it could understand you. He loved just watching when you talked to the tree. The smile that would grace your face only made him fall deeper in love with you. 

Today, you were just lazing about on the forest bed waving your hand through the water, giggling at the fishes that swam up to kiss your hand. You look so blissful just laying there enjoying the water. 

He decided that today was the day he was going to make you, his. That he was going to introduce himself instead of watching you. 

He stepped steadily into view but you didn’t look up so he stepped a bit closer. His shadow and reflection mirrored in the water, all the fishes swam away scared by the sudden shadow. Your hand stopped waving through the water for a moment and you focused on the reflection. You carefully turned around and when you did your beauty was one like no other. 

You both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before he finally broke the silence. 

“My maiden… I I have been enchanted by you…” he said eyes filled with admiration. 

Your gaze remained unchanged, a look of neither surprise nor nervousness. It was just your natural face, a face of pure serenity. 

“Come with me. Come with me, my maiden,” he whispered the last part but he knew you still heard him.

He didn’t know if you understood him until you shook your head.

You spoke, your voice ever so gentle made his heart sing but the words that left your mouth made his immediately made him snap out of it, “I cannot leave this place, Hunter. Don't ask me to follow where you lead.” 

Before he could even have a chance to think you left him, disappearing in the willow’s thick leaves. 

Peter stared dumbfounded at the place you left him. He wanted to follow you towards the tree but he didn’t see signs of you anywhere around or in the tree. 

He knew he had to try again. 

No, He needed to try again and this time you wouldn’t say no. 

. . . 

Peter held a yellow flower he’s seen you stare at often in awe and smell with glee on your face. He thought since you rarely left, it would be nice if you could have the flower for yourself.

You were staring out into the River bank humming softly while braiding bits of your hair. You looked so serene like you’ve known nothing but the calamity of the forest for your entire life. Peter would be the one to change that, to show you the world. 

You stopped when you heard him. You turned your head with a look he couldn’t quite place. 

“My maiden, your beauty is nothing compared to this flower but I hope it will suffice…” he gently laid the flower in your hands.

You gently held the flower in your hands and stared at it. Your eyebrows furrowed while you looked at it. 

“I’m enchanted by you and your beauty. I want to be the only one who listens to your sweet songs. I hope to be your husband,” he said eyes gleaming at you. 

You couldn’t hide your feelings. Your face said it all as your lips curved into a soft frown and tears started to well in your eyes. 

You shook your head just like before while holding the flower tightly to your chest. 

“I will never marry you,” you said, the frown on your face becoming more apparent. “Not near, nor far, nor soon.” 

A small why left Peter’s lips as you stared at him. As if you were frightened you stepped back towards your willow. Peter couldn’t let you go. Not yet. Not while you are not giving him an answer as to why. 

Peter gripped your dress. You let out a yep before trying to pull him off, tearing it in the process just before you vanished. 

Peter was angry. You left him again just after he gave you a flower and poured his feelings into you. 

“You will come to regret your decision,” he said into the wind. You still heard him and shook as you laid the flower on the willow tree’s branches, softly crying for him to just go away. 

Days went by. 

Then weeks. 

Then months… 

He was nowhere to be found. 

You went on your day like any other. It was sunny and the green lush leaves of your tree shined brilliantly. You lay on the grass, admiring the new flowers that were growing in. It was all so peaceful. That hunter was finally gone and you could enjoy protecting your tree. 

You could’ve laid there all day but you had things to do. Things that were important to the plant life of the forest. You went on your way. You could never stray from your tree or your forest so you had the help of little rabbits and squirrels to get you the things you needed. 

You felt something was wrong for a moment like there was an impending doom that was about to befall the forest. You wanted to ignore it. Your mother protected you and the woods, surely nothing would happen. 

Oh how wrong you were. 

You felt a hit to the back of your head and when you came to. You were on the forest floor with nothing on. You would’ve screamed if there wasn’t a gag in your mouth. Your hands were tied. There was no way you could’ve freed yourself. There was a voice in your ear telling you it was okay. Whispering how much you looked tonight while they petted your hair. 

Your lungs almost gave out from your muffled screams. That hunter was right above you, kissing your face, using his filthy hands to touch your body, stroking and touching the most precious parts of you. 

“Mother,” you tried to say. “Mother help me.”

But no one came. No one was there to save you. You cried when you realized it. That no one was coming for you. Not even your mother. 

His eyes were so soft as they stared back at yours, which made you confused. You could feel that he was conflicted with what he wanted to do. You didn’t sense any regret nor was he upset with what he was about to do. He pressed his fingers against you, slowly rubbing your clit until you were wet enough for his fingers. He kept his fingers there while his other hand lowered down to a spot that had you screaming. You kept twisting the rope that was holding you it was rubbing your skin raw and you could smell the blood that came from it. 

A harsh slap made you stop altogether. It was so hard it had your ears ringing throughout your head. 

“My sweet maiden please forgive me. I just wanted to calm you,” he said as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

What he was feeling now was remorse but it wasn’t for you. It was for him because he didn’t want to hit you. He was upset because you made him hit you. You could’ve thrown up at the emotions you were feeling from him. The scent of no regrets of what he wanted to do to you made you sick. 

Fingers stuff themselves deep into you. You’ve never felt anything more intrusive than his fingers. They are what made you quiet other than your deep breaths that he mistook. For what you weren’t sure but he made him happy every time you cried out. 

When he felt like he was done he pulled down his trousers. He couldn’t wait as he hurriedly untied them. You knew that there was no going back after this. He held his cock over you. It was thick and veiny with an angry red tip. It had you choking just by the look at it. You held your breath and closed your eyes as he slid it back and forth till he was slick enough with your wetness. 

Slowly he entered and all the air inside your lungs left you. It was a piercing sensation that took over the bottom half of your body. It was so painful, every waking moment made you feel like you were on the verge of passing out. 

“Relax… my maiden relax,” he said. 

Relax? After being taken against your will and being violated in the worst possible way. You wanted to hurt him, a feeling that you’ve never felt before. You wanted to kill him. You couldn’t even move or breathe for that matter. 

What disgusted you the most was his moans as he thrusts slowly, lovingly even. He was so infatuated by your beauty that he didn’t even notice the fact that your face looked so disgusted by the sight of him. 

It finally got easier after what felt like hours of him just thrusting into you. It felt like it was never-ending. If this was what it felt like to be with someone you’re supposed to love you were having none of it. It was like the devil himself made his own personal hell for you. His thrusts, his pants that were all over your face and neck, and his hands constantly touching you. 

You felt like you were about to break apart. And break apart you did. This feeling that was so overwhelming it had your legs wanting to close. Your body was quivering so hard you thought maybe this was it. The small death before absolution. 

Your gasps and pants fell from your lips and continued to come out as the hunter got faster and faster. He wasn’t done. Not yet not when he was so close. He did one final thrust that had him calling out to the gods above. 

Wet and sticky was all you felt when he pulled himself from you. You couldn’t bring yourself to sit up to look at what he did to you. There was no way you could’ve handled it. So you lay there as he pulled on his clothes. He removed your restraints mostly because he knew you wouldn’t get up and run around. There was no way you could’ve not with the aching pain between your legs. 

You hear the hunter pick up something and start to hit your tree. Your willow tree. You ran towards him. You didn’t know where the sudden energy came from but you knew that you needed to stop whatever he was doing. He pushed you down before swinging his axe again. 

“I’m freeing you, my dear maiden.”

One… two… three more strikes and your tree was down. You felt tears form at the base of your eye-line. You hugged the tree, crying into it. Whispering sorrows and pleas for forgiveness. You didn’t do anything to it but you still as though you needed to ask it for forgiveness. You shook as you sobbed into the bark. You wanted nothing more than to disappear. Go to a place where this hunter could never hurt you again. 

You had nowhere to go now. No home to call yours. He gently picked you up as you sobbed. You sobbed in his chest the whole way towards the edge of the forest. He took you. He took something that didn’t belong to him. You felt yourself fading as soon as he stepped one foot out of the forest. You didn’t know what was happening only that you could feel your energy slipping away. 

Peter screamed and fell to his knees when he saw your body practically turn into dust and in your stead of where the powder of your body used to be grew a flower. It was beautiful. One he had never seen before. He touched the flower and his body stayed in that position as if a punishment for taking something from the forest that was never meant to leave. 

His final thought was only of you. 

At least his body would remain close to you.

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training Masterlist (Peter Parker x Reader)

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

➥ Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, violence, kidnapping, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, housewife kink, cop!Peter

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➯ dividers by @straywords​​

 ➥ Peter’s POV (after Ch. 11)

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Marriage Proposal

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You should’ve broken up with Peter long ago. Now you deal with the consequences. 

WARNINGS: --  

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

You reluctantly look up from your plate at the feeling of a hand covering your own, the warmth irradiating from the firm palm making you itchy to remove the hand, but you let it be. 

"Happy anniversary, babe.” Peter smiles at you, so genuine and loving, and you force your lips to stretch into a pleasant smile. 

“I can’t believe we’ve been together for a year now. I feel like we’ve only met yesterday but here we are.” he says with a chuckle.

“It’s as if time flies away when you’re in love, right?”

You weakly nod, opting to bring the wine glass to your lips to give you an excuse to avert eyes. But that doesn’t stop the turmoil of emotions that devastates you inside, the guilt eating you away.

You’re a horrible girlfriend. And a coward one too. One that keeps prolonging and dragging time, too timid to break-up. 

Not tonight, you decide, delaying the confrontation furthermore. Peter is so happy and you’d hate to break his heart on such an occasion.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

“This place is really gorgeous, I love it.” you say, allowing your eyes to wander around the restaurant.

The place is indeed pretty. Elegant but at the same time, private and personal. It suits Peter. 

Tension accompanies throughout the entire dinner as you play the girlfriend role dutifully, pretending to laugh at Peter’s jokes and smiling at him. 

A part of you feels so bad for it, there used to be a time where you actually loved Peter.

You still like and respect him, he’s a great guy, unlike many men. But you’re no longer the same person that you were when you meet him. 

And Peter…

He’s the one that took a 180º change. Deep inside, he probably means well, intending to protect you but that isn’t enough to make you stay.

Not if you want to have a toxic-free life. A life without having to answer a full interrogation when you plan to hang out with friends.

A life without having to call and text your boyfriend about what you’re doing, otherwise he’ll most likely show up at your workplace, face pinched with worry because you failed to contact him. 

You’re so caught up by your thoughts that you wince, surprised when people start clapping and cheering, everyone’s attention fully on your table. 

When you confusedly look for Peter, your whole world drops. 

The world seems to stop when you look to your side as Peter gets down on one knee, a jittery smile curling his lips. 

Your face drops in horror, mind frozen and unable to think. 

“Peter…”

“I know, I know.” he brushes you off, joy irradiating from him, “Just let me say this first, yeah? I’m so nervous.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times and you blink, unable to fully comprehend what’s going on. This can’t be true…

This has to be a prank, there’s no way that Peter is actually proposing to you. But your doubts are swiftly cleared as a small and elegant velvet box appears in the scene.

No…

Peter clears out his throat with a small noise before looking at you, and you realize how nervous he actually is, a light layer of sweat in his forehead.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know. Been preparing it for weeks now.” he confesses after a long moment, shaking his head.

“Tony helped me write it. Lots of fancy poetic words and-and I completely forgot all of it.”

“But what I really wanna say is that I love you, Y/N.” Peter declares, his voice gaining determination, “From the moment I saw you, I knew that you were the one for me. I was lucky enough that you gave me a chance to prove to you how much I care for you…”

Your heart tightens at those words and you clutch the table’s fabric, feeling yourself helpless. 

“... and this past year has been amazing. The best year of my life. All because of you.” Peter smiles tenderly at you, his hands working on opening the velvet box and you feel yourself tensing up when a delicate silver ring comes into sight. 

“So…Y/N L/N, will you give me the honor of being your husband?” 

And just like that, you faintly nod, not trusting your voice to speak. Peter beams at you and you do your best to retribute, despite the numbness that strikes you like a bullet.

The restaurant explodes in a loud applause and Peter wastes no time in pushing the pretty ring on your hand, engulfing you in a tight hug. 

“I love you so much.” he feverously kisses your head.

You push your face against his chest, hoping to hide the tears that burn in your eyes as you start regretting saying yes already.

[princessbellecerise]

Picture Perfect Masterlist

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Your sister Natasha is in trouble. You know it in your gut, and even moreso — you know it’s because of her so called ‘family’ the Avengers. Natasha hasn’t been the same since joining them, yet you can’t quite seem to prove anything. But with a little digging you think you may be able to discover what’s really going on behind those superhero facades. Look beyond the sickly sweet smiles, the false personas the rest of the world seems to buy into. There’s something dark lurking behind the secluded walls of the avengers compounds, and it’s up to you to figure out what exactly it is. It’s up to you to save your sister and yourself — before it becomes too late.

warnings | dark!peter parker, dark!avengers, non-con, kidnapping, dubcon, violence, loss of virginity (m. and f), manipulation, overall mature themes, stalking, delusional!peter, 18+ ONLY

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

Prologue

I

II

III

more to come…

[prettybabybaby]

bunny | peter parker !

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

word count: 10.9k

synopsis: Peter Parker has been your best friend for years. After you develop a relationship with somebody else, you see a side of him you've never seen before.

content warnings: RAPE/NONCON, blood, dark!peter parker, plus size!reader, negative self talk, insecurities, slow burn, implied stalking, oral (f! receiving), slapping, degradation, spit, unproteced sex, creampie, lmk if i missed any

¡ marvel masterlist !

You were sixteen when you met Peter Parker. 

He had shyly approached you, a blush high on his cheeks as he handed you a stack of papers. Confused, you simply stared at them, eyebrows cinched and lips slightly down-turned. 

You were well aware of who Peter Parker was. He was a member of the Midtown Academic Decathlon team that you were also part of; though you never directly interacted it’s him due to your nerves. He seemed kind, he was lanky and a little geeky, making him the butt of a lot of jokes. Much like you were. For opposite reasons, of course.

You were often teased and ridiculed for your size. You were heavier and much curvier than other girls your age. You had a puffy face and a matching plump body, most people couldn’t look past that. So, to say the least, you weren’t very popular.

Peter Parker knew all about you. He had been watching you since your freshman year. He was mesmerized when first laid eyes on you. He swears he had never seen a more beautiful sight than you, taking little, shy steps like you were afraid to make your presence known. Your hair was done in the way he would grow to like best, and you wore a pretty blue plaid skirt and a white sweater. The skirt was a tad too long and he could sense your discomfort as you tugged it down even further. He remembers staring at you as you looked around with unfamiliarity and slight fear in your eyes. The innocence in your eyes was also hard to miss. You held textbooks to your chest, in an attempt to conceal your tummy. He watched as you stood alone, your cute nose making slight movements as you stood. Your nose wiggled like a little bunny. He felt the desire to protect you, keep you next to him and out of harm’s way. He regrets not approaching you that day. It would have saved you from a lonely year. 

“I was told to give these to you,” he said silently, “I heard you missed a few days.”

“Oh,” you breathed, taking them from him, your chubby hands looking silly against his thin, veiny ones. Peter thought they looked perfect together. “Thank you, Peter,” you said, quickly pulling your hands away and hiding them behind your back when you saw his gaze on them. 

His eyes lingered on where your hand was against his before he looked up at you and gave you a bright smile, “no problem.”

Peter walked you to your class after that, taking the empty seat beside you and discussing the subject matter with you. And to your surprise, he followed you to your next class, and the next, and the next. By the end of the day, you were quite fond of the boy. He was a lot kinder than you’d imagined, he even promised to see you the following morning for breakfast with Ned and MJ. Of course, you tried to decline but he wouldn’t let you leave without the promise of arriving on time. 

This was years ago and your friendship had only gotten stronger. 

Being friends with Peter was refreshing and comforting. He wasn’t like the other guys you’d met in university. He didn’t have any ulterior motives nor did he fetishize you. He did not attempt to coerce you or manipulate you into getting what he wants because you owed it to him. No, Peter would never do that. 

Peter was actually the one to look after you, he made you aware of what those who sought you were really after. They want to take advantage of you, bunny, he’d said several times. They want to ruin you. He would never elaborate on what he meant when he said that and you didn’t like to pry. He just had a good judge of character is all.

Of course, Ned and MJ were your friends too and they were very nice to you as well, but you always felt that they were only acquainted with you for Peter’s sake. You never hung out with them without Peter present but you tried not to let it bother you.

Your goal for the year was to acquire your own circle of friends, and maybe even get a boyfriend after being single your entire life. Peter had a few girlfriends here and there, though nothing was ever serious. You couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of him, he had grown to be quite attractive, making it easy for him to make connections.

He had lost the baby fat on his cheeks, his jaw was now angular and his strong bone structure was one of his most prominent features on top of his big, brown eyes and muscular body. He was muscular in a lean way, a way that isn’t entirely noticeable under the sweaters he always wore. 

Today Peter sat across from you, latte in hand as he basked in the morning sun. His tight black shirt highlighted his muscular arms and chest, you caught yourself staring as you sometimes did when he ditched the ill-fitting clothing. His chocolate brown curls framed his face beautifully, looking golden where they met the sun. His lips, colored like pink peonies, rested with the slightest pout.

You sipped your London fog, squinting as you looked up in search of the singing bird in the tree above your head. You caught sight of it. The creature’s delicate red feathers looked like fire in the golden sky as it flew away. Your stare fell on Peter again, “our 8 AM lecture was canceled today.” 

Peter hummed, not moving from his previous state, “I know.”

You huffed, “why’re we here, then?” you set your cup down, “it’s way too early. We, no I, should be in bed.”

Peter’s lips quirked up into a smile, “I wanted to hang out.”

“At six-thirty A.M.? We could’ve hung out at a more reasonable hour, like, I don’t know, eleven,” you began ranting and you saw one of Peter’s eyes open slightly. “Or maybe twelve, we could’ve gotten breakfast or… or brunch!”

“You never eat breakfast,” he said, swinging his head forward, eyes now fully open and on you.

“I do…” you claimed, your nose scrunching, lips pouting.

Peter clicked his tongue, “not enough.”

“Well, whatever,” you opted to change the subject before he could continue further. 

“We still could’ve met up later. Like I said, brunch.”

“I don’t know,” he began, sitting up all the way now, “I kinda like being out this early. It’s nice and quiet.” 

“I guess so,” you murmured, leaning back to rest on your elbows.

Peter watched you, gaze moving from your Mary Jane-clad feet to your pretty hair. You wore a dress today. It was Peter’s favorite dress, not that you knew that. It was a lilac purple color and it had short, puffy sleeves. He liked the way the dress clung to your curves and complimented your skin tone. It was the shortest of all your dresses, so he especially liked the way it rode up your thighs when you sat down, making your pudgy thighs all the more visible to him. He stared at them now, noticing the way the plush fat pooled around you like a sea of soft flesh as you relaxed. He wanted to grab them, bury his face in them and drown in you. 

His eyes ran up your body further, over the curve of your tummy and swell of your breasts. The necklace Peter had gifted you last Christmas sat prettily around your neck, resting on your bare chest above the heart-shaped neckline of your dress, rising and falling as you breathed. He stared at it, not noticing when you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Okay?” he heard you ask.

“Mhm,” he replied, tearing his eyes away and giving you a soft smile. 

+

The morning had passed rather quickly and you perked up after your second tea of the day. Your last class of the day was your creative writing class. As you strode in, you took your usual seat in the front of the room, setting your things down beside you.

Your focus was on the board in front of you when you felt a gush of air on your left. You looked over, catching sight of a tall figure sitting down beside you. 

“Hey,” the man exhaled, setting down his things next to yours. 

You opened your mouth to respond but you ended up holding your hand up to signal a hello. 

The man smiled, “I’m Harry,” he held a hand out for you to shake.

You looked at it, quietly introducing yourself as you took his pale hand. Your touch was featherlight as it took you by surprise when he gripped it tightly with a slight laugh. 

Harry was effortlessly charming. He was cute and cool and he had a sharp sense of humor, you learned. But on top of that, he had a contagious smile and a gaze that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. You often caught yourself gazing at him from the corner of your eye trying to be inconspicuous with your staring. He had shiny blonde hair that you thought resembled Peter’s. Only lighter and shorter and straighter and not really like Peter’s at all. 

You weren’t sure why your mind had suddenly wandered to Peter. Maybe a part of you wondered what he would think of Harry. Or maybe you were subconsciously comparing them. You weren’t sure.

“Hey, um,” you turned towards Harry who had begun speaking. The class had ended and you were gathering your things. “We should meet up,” he grinned, “maybe at the library?”

You weren’t used to social invitations, much less from men like Harry. 

“Does tomorrow at four work for you?” 

You nodded, unable to find your voice. You felt blood rush to your face at the look he gave you next. It was like he was trying to figure you out, understand you with a simple glance. Like he was trying to read you like a book. 

“Great,” he picked up your bag for you, “looking forward to it.”

+

Peter was laying on your bed when you arrived at your little studio apartment. He was half asleep, strong arms wrapped tightly around your stuffed bunny and surrounded by your assortment of other stuffed animals. He shot up at the sound of the door opening, “hey.”

“Do you ever go home?” you kicked off your shoes and set your bag down. “This place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

In his mind it was. Just perfect. It kept you close.

“Why would I? You’re such good company, bunny.”

You snorted, “I’m sure that’s the reason and definitely not you trying to get away from Ned and Betty.” 

You moved towards your bed, plopping down next to him, adjusting the skirt of your dress that had ridden up when you landed. Peter watched your hands as they rested on your tummy. He could see right down your dress. He could see the white bra hugging your tits, a little bow between the cups. 

“What?” you asked, self-consciously moving your hand to your chin.

“Nothing. Don’t do that,” he looked at the ceiling. It bothered Peter when you did things like that. As if you weren’t the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

You simply huffed, “how did you even get in here?”

He motioned toward the open window, “you need to start locking it. One of these days a creep could just come waltzing in and you’d have no idea.”

“A creep like you,” you joked with a breathy laugh. You tore your stuffed bunny from his arms.

“Worse,” he said lazily.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds as Peter began to doze off again. 

“I met this guy in class today.”

Peter was suddenly very awake. “Oh,” a pause, “who?”

“He said his name is Harry, I don’t know his last name but he was very nice.” You sounded excited, “we’re meeting up at the library tomorrow to study and get some work done.”

Get some work done. Sure, that’s what you were gonna do. Peter knew better than that. You didn’t, of course. That’s why you were so lucky to have Peter with you, by your side, protecting you from evil college guys who just wanted to get under your skirt. They wouldn’t have a clue what to do to you. How to make you feel good and have you purring sweetly in their ears… 

“So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break into my home.”

“Huh?”

You gave him an unamused look, “you weren’t listening.”

He grinned, “I’m always listening.”

You rolled your eyes, “I said, don’t come by just in case we come back here.”

Peter furrowed his brows in disgust. What business would he have coming back to your apartment if you were just going to study? Did he ask you if he could come over? 

“Why would you do that?”

You shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t know…”

Peter felt sick. 

“We should do something else instead. There’s a new Vietnamese place not far from here. MJ says they have really good pho.”

“Peter…” you started. He knew you were going to say no. You rarely said no to him. “How about Friday? We can get takeout and come back here and watch movies. Your pick.” 

His first mistake was looking over at you. Your chubby cheeks and pretty lips pulled up into a sweet smile. Your eyes were pleading, please say yes, please say yes. His second mistake was giving in.

“Fine.”

+

Peter left your apartment shortly after that. You had spent the rest of the night going over the conversation trying to figure out where you went wrong. He seemed upset as he hugged you goodbye. His brown eyes didn’t hold the same warmth they always did. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to replace him. But that wouldn’t make any sense. You only just met Harry. You didn’t know anything about him besides his first name. 

“Hey!” Harry called a tad too loudly for the library. He stood from his seat, waving you over.

In all honesty, you didn’t expect him to be there. It was a little before four and you had arrived with low expectations. Though this was only intended to be a study session and nothing more, Harry was a very attractive man. He was funny and charming and extroverted and you… were none of those things.

“Hi,” you mumbled as you neared the table he was seated at. It was in the far corner, furthest away from the librarian. Or any of the other stressed university students. 

“I chose this table so we won’t have to whisper,” he smiled, patting the open seat beside him.

His eagerness made you blush. “Good idea,” your voice was still small.

He chuckled, “thanks,” he dramatically whispered.

You blushed further, “sorry.”

The both of you were silent as you took out your laptops. 

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for some time now,” he started. “I read one of your pieces when the semester started and I really enjoyed it. You’re a phenomenal writer.”

“Really?” he appeared nonchalant as he typed in his password. As if he hadn’t just given you the kindest compliment you had ever received.

“Yeah, it’s so obvious how passionate you are. I mean every time I look at you, you look so entranced by the books you read or by the professor or your work.”

He looked at you?

“Oh,” your face felt warmer, “um, thank you.”

He smiled at you, “no problem, it’s true.”

You felt butterflies in your tummy and you began to log into your laptop to avoid looking at him.

You began to work in silence, hyper-aware of every time Harry leaned in close to you, reading your story as you typed. He smelled of musk and vanilla. His head of blonde locks tickled your ear.

Eventually, you presumed he grew bored as he shut his laptop and turned to face you in his chair. You attempted to ignore him but your typing began to slow and your focus was only on the boy beside you.

You gave him a faux look of annoyance, “I thought we were here to study.”

“We are,” he propped his head up on his hand that rested on the table. “To study and get to know each other.” 

Get to know each other. 

That was unexpected. 

You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted in your tummy, “Oh, okay, yeah.”

Surprisingly, you had a decent amount in common with Harry. Of course, not overly so. Not like you and Peter. But this is a good thing. You’re making your own friends.

+

“Oh, he’s so lovely, Pete!” you gushed, your nose wiggling as you spoke.

“Mhm,” Peter watched you with a strange look, mouth full of boba pearls, “you’ve mentioned that.”

You gave him a smile that normally would have made him turn to mush. Only this time, it didn’t. Had you smiled at Harry like that?

“I’m excited!” you waved your hands in the air, “I’m making my own friends, Pete. I’m an independent woman now.”

He rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his tea, “good. Good for you.” He couldn’t help the bitter feeling that rested in the pit of his stomach. 

Independent. You had made a single “friend” (Peter didn’t even want to think about that. He knew Harry was just using you, that’s not what friends do. You shouldn’t throw that term around like that. He was your friend. Peter was your friend.) and you already pegged yourself as independent. He could laugh in your face. You were far too pure to face the world without him by your side. Like hell you were independent.

You pouted, your eyes searching for his, “are you angry with me?”

Angry? Why would he be angry? Because you hadn’t shown at your arranged time? Because the reason you were late was that you wanted to squeeze in an extra “study date” with Harry? No, he wasn’t angry. Not at you anyway.

“Of course not, bunny. Could never be.”

It was true, he wasn’t necessarily angry, he was more so slightly bothered by what you had done. That’s how it usually was. You would do something that Peter did not agree with but he would never be angry. Just mildly annoyed. He couldn’t be angry with his sweet little bunny. You probably didn’t even know the consequences of your actions. He couldn’t blame you for that.

You smiled, leaning in to hug him. Peter was immediately enveloped in warmth, your soft body melding with his. The sweet scent of lavender and honey was all around him. Your hair tickled his neck where you buried your face. You were on your knees on the couch, allowing Peter a view of your backside covered in your loungewear.

He loved your hugs. They always succeed in lifting his spirits and making him a little dizzy. You were just so warm and soft and perfect for him. 

You pulled away, still smiling as you sunk back into your spot on your tiny, tiny couch and pulled your tea to your lips. 

He let himself watch as you wrapped your lovely mouth around the straw. A minuscule puddle of milk tea formed on your bottom lip, and you licked it up as you removed the straw. Your tongue was wet and a delightful shade of pink as you slid it across the expanse of your lip.

He felt a throb in his sweatpants. Shifting, he asked, “so, what else did you do today?”

You hummed, chewing the balls of boba in your mouth, “that’s all. Just hung out with Harry. We have a lot more in common than I thought,” you giggled. “We just don’t run out of things to talk about.”

He inhaled, feeling himself go soft, “that’s a lot of talking in the library.”

“Oh, we didn’t go to the library,” you shook your head. 

He gave you a look, “where did you go?”

You looked hesitant, “um, we went to his flat. It was nearby and he had forgotten his books, so it was easier to stay there.” 

How convenient. 

“Bunny,” Peter started. 

You had a guilty look on your face as you stared at him, “I know,” your voice was small, “not safe. I know… but he’s not like the other guys Pete. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“How can you be so sure, hm? You’re in no way prepared to protect yourself. What if he had done something to you? What would you have done?”

“He wouldn’t…” you looked down, “he wouldn’t do anything.” You bit your lip as you nervously whispered, “I think he likes me.”

Peter could hardly hear you. He was sure he hadn’t heard correctly because of how softly you spoke. “Speak up, bunny. I can’t hear you.”

“I said I think he likes me,” you said a little louder. He could see the embarrassment on your face. Like you couldn’t believe you had said that out loud.

Peter swallowed, “oh.” 

There was a pause, “what makes you think that?”

“Well,” your nose fluttered, “he said he’s never met anyone like me. And he,” you glanced up at him before returning your gaze to your lap, “he tried to kiss me.”

Oh. 

Peter didn’t know how to react. He stared at your pretty eyes with his brows cinched and an analyzing gaze. The first thought to pop into his was: did you kiss him? Then: did you want to kiss him?

“Oh,” he managed to say, “did you?”

You inhaled, “um, no…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. “I couldn’t.”

Good. He doesn’t deserve to feel your lips. He doesn’t deserve your first kiss. 

“I don’t know how,” you looked up at him. Your eyes looked glassy and you had a look of embarrassment on your face.

It should have been obvious. Peter did keep any potential love interest as far from you as you could manage, yet he was still flustered.

He hummed, feeling blood rush to his groin, “you don’t?”

You shook your head, “no… never learned how.”

Your lips looked so pretty as you pouted, shame present on your face. Peter wanted to reach over, pull you in close, and kiss you softly. He wanted to run his hands through your hair and up your soft curves. To hear your lovely noises as you gave into him. 

He grimaced as the image of Harry’s dirty lips inching closer to yours. Your pure, innocent mouth being tainted by his filthy one. He could have that. What else would he make you do?

He could only imagine your gasp of surprise, your inexperienced movements, your sugary taste. But you were sitting right in front of him, weren’t you? You had enough confidence in him that you would even confess such a thing. He was obligated to help you, wasn’t he? You’re essentially asking for help, right?

“I could,” he paused, unsure, “I could teach you.”

“Really?” You straightened your back a tad, eyes widening at the offer.

You trusted him so much. After all these years that you’d known him, Peter had never once misled you in any way shape, or form. He was the person you trusted most because you knew he had your best interest in mind. He was your best friend. He was there to keep you safe.

“Mhm,” he moved a little closer, “if you’d want that, I can.”

You nodded eagerly, “yes, Peter, please.”

Yes, Peter, please…

You sat still as Peter invaded your space.

He licked his lips, you reluctantly placed one hand on your thigh, and the other reaching up to cup your chubby face. The warmth of your being was seeping into him so deep he felt warmer than he ever had.

You looked at him expectantly, your glassy gaze flickering from his honey brown eyes to his lips. 

“Are you ready?” He whispered, mouth mere inches from yours.

You inhaled, “yes, Peter. I wanna be good for Harry.”

He ignored the pang in his chest, “well, you have to be good for me first, bunny.”

You nodded, fluttering your eyes shut. He watched you for a second. Your nose wiggled faintly as you breathed and you sat patiently waiting with your pouty lips puckered up slightly. 

He was able to see it all this close to you. All of your imperfections that he never had the privilege of noticing before. It only made him long for you more.

Peter ignored the thought in his head that said if he knew you’d give in to him so easily under the pretense of teaching you, he would’ve offered his services much earlier.

He leaned in, hovering just before your lips, eyeing how your eyebrows furrowed and your lips extended further. But not a single complaint about Peter’s excruciatingly slow pace because he knows best, and he knew you knew that.

He could feel your shaky exhales on his skin as he finally connected your lips. He felt himself twitch, once, twice, at the sheer feeling of your lips pressed against his. It was harder to refrain from going further - maybe a hand up your thigh, up to your belly and to your tits, maybe wrap them around your neck…

He felt your face contort as he began to finally move his mouth against yours, your kisses were as sloppy as he’d imagined them to be. And he was correct, your inexperience made him painfully hard. He reluctantly removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on his bulge. He just couldn’t resist. You let out a high shaky breath as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting you.

Peter could taste the remnants of your milk tea on your tongue. You attempted to mirror his movements and he felt another throb at your feeble efforts.

He rubbed his hand onto his hard cock to resist the urge to do something completely inappropriate like take your hand to place it on his thigh to get him even closer to his release. He didn’t believe it would take much at all for him to cum. Your mouth moving against his was more than enough.

You began to get the hang of it and it somehow made Peter’s erection even more painful. His hips involuntarily jerked as you wrapped your arms up around his neck, tugging him close. Your thigh brushed against his cock, and he sighed. You gasped, your tongue halting its sloppy movements.

He could feel you pulling back and he chased your lips, pushing into you and not permitting you to disconnect your mouths. You leaned back against the arm of the small couch in your attempt to pull away from your best friend’s lips. Peter followed you, body against yours. His cock sat on your thigh and he hoped you couldn’t feel it twitch. 

As his hips made small movements, grinding into your thigh. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your head, keeping you against him, while the other felt up your sides, resting below your tits. You let out a whiny sound as you began to kiss him back again.

Peter’s thrusts became more erratic as he drew closer and closer to the edge. He felt your thigh tense and your hips lifted off the couch, pushing into his lower abdomen. Your arms tightened around his neck. 

Your kisses were still messy, you used far too much tongue and had little technique but Peter had never had a better kiss. He came abruptly when you moaned into his mouth again, hand pulling on the hair at the name of his neck. He pulled away from you and groaned, out of breath into your shoulder as he steadied himself.

“Pete,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so eager.”

Peter was taken aback. He didn’t respond as he regained his composure into your warm shoulder, inhaling your scent. His cock was slowly going soft but the proximity to you made him believe that it would shoot back up with any movement you made. 

“I just,” a pause, “I guess I got a little carried away.”

It baffled Peter that you thought any of what happened had been your fault. As if he didn’t invade your space and force your head into place so he could get himself off.

“It’s okay, bunny.”

You buried your head into his shoulder and there was no sign of parting for a while. Peter only pulled away when he felt his hot cum seeping through his pants in a wet puddle. His movements were quick when he grabbed a throw pillow and threw it over his lap.

“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

+

You had spent an increasing amount of time with Harry over the last few weeks. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you’d thought he’d have grown bored of you by now. But it seemed the opposite. He texted you often, smiled at you in a way that made you feel warm and special, and he seemed genuinely interested and excited to speak to you. You hadn’t felt that way since you met Peter.

It had been the only thing on your mind for the last week. Well, that and your mess of a friendship with Peter Parker.

After the kiss shared with Peter, you had spent less time with him. On top of plans with Harry, you felt guilty for how you acted. You felt that you had taken advantage of him and his kindness. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and in a way uncomfortable around Peter now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, it was yours. And he deserved better.

You began to ignore his calls and texts and you took different routes to and from your classes. You even stopped replying to Ned and MJ after they began questioning where you’d run off to. In a way that comment made you feel a little ridiculous. It was like they expected Peter to be dragging you around on a leash. Like you were his little pet or something of the like.

That wasn’t Peter’s fault though. You didn’t believe anything was. Peter was a saint in your eyes. Your savior of a life of solace. That’s why you felt the worst you ever had about locking your window. 

The first night, you had pretended to be asleep when you heard light taps on the glass. You closed your eyes and ignored the noise, waiting for what felt like hours to move again. 

Now, almost two weeks later, you had finally been confronted.

Peter looked at you in a way you had never seen and couldn’t decipher. His lips were pulled in a tight line and his forehead and eyebrows were creased, his eyes looked darker and his gaze was hard and they held a different feeling. Even the air around him felt different, it was cold and suffocating.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“Hm? Oh, no, no, Pete m’not-“

“You are.”

You opened your mouth to speak but your words were caught in your throat. You were avoiding him. 

“Why? Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” you took a deep breath, “I’ve just been busy-“

“Busy? With what? Osborn? He keeps you so busy that you can’t even respond to my texts?” 

You felt your lip quiver and your eyes welled up with tears at his tone and his unwavering stare. Peter had never reacted this way towards you. You didn’t even know he could speak that way. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you looked down at your feet and attempted to blink away your tears.

Peter looked down at you, waiting for you to say something, anything. He wanted - no, he expected an apology. He had been restless the past few weeks, waiting for you to respond to him. He had been following you around as New York’s friendly neighbor Spider-Man, so he was well aware of what you were up to. He watched as you found new routes to your home, hid away in obscure places, and, of course, he watched your giddy expression as Harry Osborn gripped your hand or your waist and walked around with you on his arm as if he owned you.

It didn’t help that Peter had seen you locking your window. Double-checking, triple checking that you had locked it, and then periodically again throughout the day. At first, Peter suspected that you had known he got off on your thigh that day, that you were creeped out or disgusted by him. 

“So? What is it? Why have you been avoiding me?”

You sniffled and Peter surprised himself when he didn’t soften at the noise. He didn’t feel the usual tighten of his heart nor did his stare at you become less intense. He wanted you to feel like this. It made it feel a sort of power having you vulnerable in front of him, for him.

“Y/N, I’m speaking to you. I expect an answer. Did you lose your ability to speak to me when you started fooling around with Osborn? Neglecting me? Neglecting our friendship? Does it mean so little to you?”

Tears started falling from your eyes at the sound of your name. Peter never called you that. You were his bunny, his best friend. You covered your face with your hands in shame. You weakly shook your head.

“So you can’t speak, hm?” 

Peter could think of a few ways to get you to start talking. Many scenarios to get your pretty mouth moving.

Peter had thought a lot about you recently, somehow even more than normal. His thoughts had turned alarmingly crude the more time you spent away from him. What was once an innocent daydream of kissing your lips turned into a filthy, sordid fantasy of flipping your skirt and fucking you over the table in the library where you studied with Harry.

Flashes of your mouth and body were intrusive thoughts and the feeling of them on him lingered. They left him unable to focus on patrolling, ultimately leading to him jacking off on the roof of the building across the street from your apartment. Some days, he was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your bare legs through cracks in your sheer white curtains.

“M’sorry Peter,” you peered up at him through teary lashes, “didn’t mean to make you sad.”

He clicked his tongue, “well, you did.”

You let out a sob as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your face into his chest. His heart rate kept its steady pace and Peter stood still for a few seconds. Would he forgive you, no, could he forgive you so easily?

He focused on your warmth around him and he felt his walls lower. He begrudgingly hugged you back, taking in the feel of your curves under his fingers. He sighed, “it’s okay, bunny. Don’t cry.”

You wanted to cry harder. Normally, Peter would be cradling your face, wiping your tears, and pulling you close, enveloping you in his warmth. It was nothing like his tight grip and cold demeanor he currently had. You hadn’t meant to upset him so much but you just felt so guilty for possibly crossing or blurring the lines of your friendship. 

Peter knew he would give into you. The way you whimpered and cried into his chest made his heart feel heavy. He began to rub your back and he placed a kiss on your head. Your arms tightened around him. 

“C’mon, bunny. It’s okay, we’re okay.”

You whimpered again, doing all you could to collect yourself. Peter held you tightly until you lifted your head. 

Your face was red and puffy, wet with your tears and your eyeliner was smudged at the corners of your bloodshot eyes. Your lips were slightly opened as you breathed through your mouth. Your nose was runny and you sniffled, nose wiggling. Peter felt his pants tighten. You looked so wrecked and it was all for him. Because he was upset with you. He had that power over you.

“Are you okay?” concern filled his face.

“Mhm,” you said, shakily smiling. “Missed you.”

He smiled at you and you felt the warmth return, “I missed you more, bun. Should we catch up?”

You nodded frantically, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of your apartment.

+

Things had since gotten much better. You were in Peter’s grasp once more and Harry Osborn had been moved to the backburner. 

You sighed as you switched your kettle on for a cup of tea. Peter was busy and you were stuck at home alone again. You were bored beyond belief as your eyes flickered from your TV to the warming kettle. Your foot tapped on the ground and you all but ran to your phone when the familiar ping came from it. 

Your eyes widened and excitement erupted in your belly. Harry had sent you a message.

hey stranger… u around?

You contemplated an answer. A part of you felt you shouldn’t respond but another was happy to hear from him.

Maybe

The response was instantaneous.

meet me at the bar

You smiled, rushing to your closet.

After making up with Peter you had begun to neglect your friendship with Harry. You were so focused on keeping Peter happy with you. This had become an increasingly difficult task that required a lot of time and attention.

Peter was easily bothered with you now. His patience would run thin and he would turn cold in the blink of an eye. You had spent nights crying, wishing you hadn’t ruined your most important friendship. But none of that stopped you from trying. 

You knew Peter didn’t like Harry, that was obvious. He’d roll his eyes and stare blankly at you with an expression of disappointment you had seen so much of recently whenever you would mention him in conversation. He made sure to remind you that Harry was just like other boys who wanted to take advantage of you and hurt you but he said nothing more.

As you walked into the cafe, Harry waved his arms in the air. You smiled, a blush forming as you took a seat across from him. He looked happy to see you, and he told you that. 

“I missed you, y’know,” he looked down, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Haven’t seen much of you recently.”

“Me too, um, sorry about that. I’ve been a little, um, busy.”

He looked up with a shy grin, “s’okay, I’m happy you’re here now.” You were slightly taken aback by his shyness. 

He paused, licking his lips and taking a deep breath, “so, Y/N, I’ve been thinking…”

Oh no, here it goes. He’s gonna tell you that he can’t see you anymore. That he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your heart stopped, a date? You had never been on a date before. “A date?”

He cleared his throat, looking nervous, “uh, yeah. It’s just, that I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I missed you so much the last few weeks. So I thought I’d finally ask.”

You exhaled, trying to process his question. “Yes, I’d love to,” you said, face warm and bashful smile.

+

It was cold outside as you walked back to your apartment. Harry had offered to drive you home but you declined, wanting some time alone to think. 

Your mind was racing as you turned into the alleyway before your apartment. You were going on a date with Harry Osborn. What would you wear? What would you talk about? What would you tell Peter?

You sighed, glancing around the dark alley. There was a spider web hanging from a pipe a few steps ahead of you. You began to walk a little faster. If Spider-Man was around there was likely some sort of criminal activity. Hopefully, it wasn’t too close to home.

As you rushed into your apartment, you didn’t bother turning on the lights. You shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, sighing deeply as you plopped down onto your bed. 

“Where were you?”

Your eyes darted to the source of the noise. The streetlight peering in through the window illuminated him just a tad, barely enough to see his face. But it didn’t matter, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Peter? How did you get in here?” You distinctly remember closing the window, locking it, and double-checking before walking out the door.

“You were out with Harry. I saw you.”

“Oh, um,” you sat up and pulled your dress down, “W-we were just getting a drink.”

He inhaled deeply and hummed, “just getting a drink.” He let out a dark laugh, “sure you were.”

“We,” you paused, “we were. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Peter scoffed, “and that’s why you agreed to go on a date with him, hm?”

You opened your mouth to speak but he didn’t let you.

“I thought we’d gotten past this, bunny.” Peter tapped his foot. Did you feel like you didn’t need him anymore? After all, he’d done for you? All these years by your side and you abandon him for the first man who gives you the time of day.

“Why don’t you listen to me? I only want what’s best for you. For us.”

You stayed quiet, looking down at your frilly, white socks. Peter sighed and you heard him rise from his spot on the couch. He lifted your chin with his cold fingers. His eyes looked dark again and the darkness of your room added to the eerie feel of him. He leaned down, fingers light on your chin as he drew closer to your lips. You turned your face away before he could connect your mouths.

What was he doing? 

He scoffed quietly as his hold on your face tightened and forced your face to its previous position. You furrowed your brows as you tried to turn away again. 

“Pete, what are you doing?”

“I’m tired of you treating me this way. I deserve better after all I’ve done for you. All these years I have been there for you. I made sure you were okay and I loved you through it all.”

He loved you? You didn’t like the sound of that. Peter was your best friend and nothing more and you dreaded the possibility that he could think of you as something more than that.

“I know that,” you whispered, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

A tiny smile graced his lips.

You returned it, “and I love you too Peter, you’re my best friend.”

His grip on your chin turned painful.

Best friend. 

He laughed darkly as he shook his head slightly, “best friend.” He smiled.

Feeling uneasy you smiled softly at him, forcing out a giggle.

His smile fell, “bunny, I love you. I want to be with you. I want you to be mine.”

You gulped, “um,” you looked down, “Peter, I don’t, I don’t feel that way about you.”

“Why? Because of Harry? Because you have ‘choices’ now, hm? I’m not good enough for you?”

You stayed quiet, trying to steady your breathing to keep yourself from crying as Peter used his free hand to move up your arm to your shoulder, holding it forcefully.

You didn’t even know Peter was remotely interested in you. The entire confession made you feel sick to your stomach. While you hadn’t known, the revelation didn’t change the fact that, to you, he was just a friend. This had nothing to do with Harry and his romantic interest in you.

“No, Peter, I just, I’m sorry. I don’t like you like that,” you looked down and spoke so softly you doubted he could hear you.

He scoffed, letting go of your chin and shoulder with a push. You steadied yourself, looking up to see him pacing around the room. You wanted to ask him to leave, but before you could he turned to you again.

“He could never treat you like I do.”

“Peter…”

“No! He couldn’t. I know deep down you know that. He wouldn’t know what to do with a pretty girl like you.”

You shifted uncomfortably.

Peter watched as you fiddled with the hem of your dress. It was the purple one again, his favorite. Harry would never be able to satisfy you the way he would. He just needs to find a way to let you know that. No, he has shown you. Everything he had done since you met should have shown you. You were just… ungrateful. He needed to let you know that you couldn’t get away from him. There was no one else that could love you as he could.

Your heartbeat sped up as Peter took long strides toward you. 

“He doesn’t deserve you like I do,” he shoved his knee between your own and forced them open just enough to fit his leg between them. “And I’m gonna show you, that only I know how to treat you. I know what you deserve and I can give it to you.”

You were confused and scared, you watched him cautiously as he stood before you. 

His hand reached for your hair, he touched it lightly. You let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know what he was about to do. You weren’t sure what he was capable of anymore.

His fingers caressed your face, giving your chubby cheeks a light squeeze as he moved his hand down to your neck. You let out a shaky breath as his hands ghosted over your throat.

“Peter,” you whispered, “what are you doing?” 

He smiled, “I’m gonna make you mine, bunny.”

You felt your lip quiver and you hesitantly pushed his chest, trying to get him away from you. “No, Peter. I don’t want this.”

His hands tightened around your neck, “you don’t know what you want. You’re just a dumb bunny. You don’t know what is good for you. I do.”

Tears welled in your eyes as he leaned down to leave wet kisses on your cheeks and jaw, his hands on your throat. 

You moved your face away, side to side, avoiding his lips. His grip cut off your airways as he gave you a shake, “stop.” He pushed you onto your back, attacking you with kisses. 

Tears fell from your eyes as you tried to push him back. You should’ve been able to, even if it was just a little. But he didn’t budge. Your legs kicked his own trying to get him off. He acted like you hadn’t touched him at all. You bit down on his tongue as it forced its way into your mouth, he pulled back in surprise. You took the opportunity to wiggle out from under him, moving as fast as you could towards the door.

Peter’s temper was running thin. With quick movements, he activated the web shooter tucked under the sleeve of his plaid shirt.

You barely made it a few steps when you were pulled back. Your eyes went to Peter who was seated on your bed, a cold look on his face. The sight of your hand stuck to the table left you in shock. The sticky substance was too strong for you to pull back. You began to sob as you connected the dots. 

Peter was Spider-Man.

You didn’t know how you hadn’t figured it out before. You should’ve known. The random bruises on his body, the overnight strength, and agility, the disappearances, the way he always knew where you were and what you were doing… it should’ve been obvious.

“Peter, please, let me go,” you cried, using all the strength you could muster to attempt to free your hand.

He stood from the bed and took slow steps to where you stood. “You’re my little bunny, and you’re not going anywhere until you realize that.”

As he worked to free your hand you took the other and impulsively delivered a harsh slap to his cheek. Peter didn’t react right away. He kept his eyes on your hand for a few seconds before glancing up.

“Ungrateful little bitch.”

You inhaled, trying to stare at him with the same venom that he did you. He continued to free your hand, sliding the little knife across your thumb, slicing it. You hissed in pain. 

You were so confused, this man was nothing like the Peter Parker you knew and loved. This man was pure evil and you wanted to get as far away from him as you possibly could.

Peter stared at you in disbelief. Could you not see that he was only trying to give you the best? He had to make you see it even if it meant by force. He looked into your eyes filled with fear, tearing threatening to fall and your lip quivering. He wanted you so bad and he was finally going to have you.

Peter looked down, watching the slow drops build on your fingertip before falling onto the counter. Your hand was barely trembling and he softened immediately. He hadn’t meant to cut you so deep.

“I’m sorry, bunny. Are you okay?”

His change in demeanor puzzled you, he had gone from evil to the gentle Peter you knew and loved. 

You nodded stupidly, “mhm, hurts just a little, Peter.”

“Aw, bunny,” he said softly, taking your sticky hand and bringing it to his lips.

His tender touch had you in his grasp again, like he hadn’t just assaulted you, screamed at you, cut you.

He placed a soft kiss on your bleeding finger, eyes looking lovingly into yours. You fed into it like you always did. A drop of your blood rested on his bottom lip, and you watched as he licked it up with a swipe of his tongue. 

He closed his eyes, relishing in the taste of you on his tongue. His cock twitched and he ached to taste your pretty cunt on his tongue. He wasted no time.

Before you knew it, he was throwing you to the bed with ease, flipping your skirt up. He inhaled deeply, feeling his pants tighten further by the sight of your panties. They were just as cute as you. Just what he imagined you’d wear, yet somehow it was better. Your panties were a pale pink color, little hearts a darker shade of pink littering the fabric. He couldn’t help but stare, taking in the view of your pretty panties covering your perfect, plump ass. 

Cries escaped you, pleas for him to just stop. He ignored them, instead of giving your right ass cheek a little slap. He moaned at the cry you made, the way your flesh rippled at the impact.

You had been fooled once again. The Peter Parker you once knew was long gone.

Peter looped his fingers under the delicate fabric, your skin warm, he pulled up roughly. You yelped, arching your back to relieve the pain, but it only gave Peter a better look at your puffy pussy, bulging against the fabric he had pulled. 

“Oh,” he cooed, leaning down and placing a kiss on your ass.

Tears pricked at your eyes again, threatening to fall as you tried to rack your brain for ideas on how to get yourself out of the current situation. You gasped at the abrupt feeling of cold air on your cunt. The tears began to fall.

Unable to control himself, Peter placed a sloppy wet kiss on your cunt. You gasped loudly, trying to move your ass away. He held your hips tightly in place, pressing pecks along the entirety of your backside. A strangled moan fell from your lips as he kissed your clit. 

Peter stared at your pussy, admiring the wet string of slick that drilled from your little hole. He felt a sense of accomplishment at the drip of slick, he was making you feel good even when you resisted. Extending his tongue from his mouth, he licked up your slit, flicking his tongue as he did so. He moaned at the taste of your sweet juices. 

He finally let himself loose, allowing himself to bury his head into your puffy cunt. His hands groped your thighs, kneading them, keeping them apart so he had good access to your cunt.

You tried to hold in your body’s reactions. You held your breath, curled your toes, and turned your hands to fists. But you couldn’t stop a loud mewl as Peter swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud. You bit your lip as you contained sobs. 

Your fingers grabbed onto your sheets, squeezing them tightly as you felt yourself becoming more aroused. The lewd sounds from Peter combined with the wet sounds of your pussy. Peter was essentially drooling, strings of spit and slick keeping him attached to you even when he pulled back for air. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

You felt a coil form in your tummy, tightening with every passing second.

“Are you gonna cum for me, bunny?” Peter asked, his voice deep. 

Your body was trembling and your hips unconsciously pressed into his face. You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as your mouth opened involuntarily, a loud cry slipping out as the coil snapped. You shook, your knees going weak as your body was overtaken by the pleasant, but unfamiliar sensation. 

Peter groaned into your sopping cunt as he licked up your release. His cock was so hard it was painful, his mindless humping on your sheets wasn’t nearly enough. He held you up when your body gave in, on the verge of going limp as he continued his movements on your pussy long after you had become sensitive.

“Peter, please stop, hurts,” you managed to blubber out.

He pulled away, a string of spit connecting you. He watched as it snapped, falling onto his plaid shirt. He licked his lips, sliding his arms out from under your thighs. Your lower half hit your bed and you were unable to move. Your pussy throbbed from overstimulation as you laid dumbly. Weak little moans falling from your mouth. 

Peter reached a hand up to wipe at his face, collected the excess juices, and inserted his fingers into his mouth to consume it. He savored the taste, watching as your body jolted from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The skirt of your dress was scrunched around your waist and your ass was glistening under the streetlights from where he had drooled over it. Your thighs were in the same position they were in when he dropped them. He felt himself twitch, you were too weak to move them. 

Harry couldn’t have made you cum like that. He probably would even eat you out. What a waste of a sweet cunt that would be. He could live off your pussy alone he was sure of it. 

Peter rested a hand on your lower back as he stood from the bed. You glanced over at him, relieved that he was going to leave you alone. Your tears had stopped and you felt them drying on your cheeks. 

When Peter pulled off his plaid shirt and the gray t-shirt under it, you wanted to scream. You wanted to get up and push him out of your apartment. He had just forcefully inflicted oral sex onto you and you were terrified of where he wanted to go next. 

You couldn’t help your stare at Peter’s toned body. His defined abdomen and strong arms were illuminated perfectly under the soft light. You wanted to slap yourself as you felt yourself become slightly aroused.

You managed to sit up, slowly and gently seating yourself down. You instinctively reached for your stuffed bunny. You held it to your chest as you watched Peter fiddle with his belt. “Peter,” you called quietly.

Your hair was a mess and you had faint black tracks going down your chubby face. Your lipstick was smudged. Your thick, soft arms were clinging to your bunny. The bunny he had gifted you years ago. Your dress was askew and barely covered your thighs. 

“Yes, bunny?” he pulled off his belt.

“Please stop now. I’m sorry I upset you.”

He sighed and simply shook his head. “I helped you, now you need to help me.”

Helped you? You didn’t ask for his help. 

“But-”

“Look at what you did, bun,” he pulled off his underwear as he tugged off his pants. His cock sprung free and slapped his stomach. It was big and long and thick, protruding veins ran up its length, leading to an angry red tip. You felt your lip wobble, you weren’t even sure if it would fit. “It hurts and only you can make it feel better. You caused this. It’s your fault that this is happening.”

You weren’t sure what to think. Was this your fault? 

“Lay back for me, bunny.” he motioned to the bed. “I need gonna fuck your pretty pussy.”

You shook your head. 

Peter rolled his eyes, “do what you're told, stupid bunny. Don’t act like you don’t like it. Couldn’t you feel how wet you were for me?”

You stayed in place. He clenched his jaw and grabbed your ankles, pulling you until your back hit the cushion of your mattress. You tried to kick the hold of his wrists from your feet. 

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he felt up your thigh, eyeing you in a way that made you feel self-conscious. You felt like prey.

“I always like this dress,” he said, tugging it up your body. Peter pulled your bunny from your arms to pull the material over your head. “It’s my favorite one. Looks so beautiful on you.” 

You reached for the bunny to cover yourself but were unable to reach it. You wrapped your arms around your tummy. Peter clicked his tongue, “no.” He leaned down to press kisses over your middle and he pried your hands away for better access. You felt tears brimming.

He pulled your bra off with ease, absentmindedly as he ran his mouth over your skin. You gasped and turned away, refusing to watch. You felt his tongue find your nipple and you hated the way it aroused you. He groaned and you felt his cock against your thighs. He kneaded your breasts as he kissed up your neck. He looked you in the eye as his cock found your cunt, running up and down the slit. 

“It’s gonna feel so good, bunny. You’re gonna crave my cock after. You’re gonna realize that no one is better for you than me. Fuck, you’re so warm and soft.” 

His cock twitched on your pussy, causing you to inhale shakily. 

Peter was so ready to be inside you. The warmth your cunt radiated made his cock ache so bad. He pushed his cock through your fold, watching as your face contorted. Your hole was pulling him in as soon as his cock head reached your entrance. It was like you were made to take him. 

Your face had a pained expression painted over it and your hole contracted. 

“Relax, bunny. Or it’s gonna hurt a lot more than it needs to. You were doing so well just now.”

He was too big, the further he sank into you, the more it hurt.

He couldn’t resist the involuntary thrust of his hips. You jolted up at the strength of them. As he pulled out he looked down. The sight of your loose tits, belly rolls, and puffy pussy around his cock made him feral. The red coat of blood on his pelvis made him feel a sense of accomplishment. He had you first.

He finally had you. All of you. And he deserved it all after everything he’d done.

Peter forced his way in until he bottomed out. Relishing in the way your tight pussy squeezed him. He knew it hurt from the way you had begun to cry and the way your body shook but he didn’t care. You’d adjust. Soon you’d be a stupid cockwhore. What he always wanted you to be. All for him. 

“Ow,” you cried, reaching your hand up to his back, seeking comfort.

“You feel so good,” he moaned.

Peter began a slow pace, pulling out just a little before sliding back in. your nails dug into his back as your head moved side to side, whines, and cries leaving your lips. More and more slick came from your hole as he continued his abuse. 

Soon enough his thrusts had gotten faster, harder and your thoughts were few and far between.

Fuck. 

I don’t want this.

Feels so good.

Peter’s hands were all over you. Running up your sides, squeezing your soft skin, playing with your clit, and caressing your face as tears fell from your eyes.

You weren’t sure when you had begun to cry or whether it was due to pain or pleasure. 

Peter moved his lips to rest on yours, kissing you in sync with his thrusts. You whined, moving your face away, “no, stop.”

 His hand that rested on your bouncing tits delivered a quick, harsh slap to your cheek. You cried out, tears falling faster. Peter pinched your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You opened your eyes, watching as he spit into your mouth, a string of spit lingering. You clenched around him.

Peter chuckled, “you liked that. Dirty slut.”

You had stopped fighting him, too caught up in the feeling of his cock in your cunt. Peter knew you would. He knew you loved him, too. 

He fit so perfectly inside you like you were meant for him.

A string of “Hm, uh, uh's” and breathy high-pitched noises fell from your lips with every thrust Peter made. The noises harmonized with the squelching sounds of your wet pussy. It was music to Peter’s ears. The prettiest noises he had ever heard.

Soon, you felt a coil in your belly. It snapped a part of you back into reality, while the other was dumb at the feel of Peter’s cock.

“Peter, hm, Peter, uh stop, m’gonna-”

Peter shushed you, sloppily kissing your neck, “cum for me.”

You were lightheaded, the feeling was too good. Peter suckled at your soft spot and you felt yourself cum with a high whine. Your orgasm was more intense this time. Your mind was blank as tears poured from your eyes and your body tensed. Your back arched off the mattress and you scratched down Peter’s back, holding him close.

Peter felt dizzy, you were everywhere. He could feel you everywhere and he had never felt such ecstasy. He twitched inside you as your cunt clenched around his cock deliciously. 

You weren’t able to contain your moans as you cried harder, salty tears saturating the sheets beneath your head as he fucked you past your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said, voice deep with desire. The way your pussy fluttered around him became too much.

“N-no,” you shakily moved your hands down to his pelvis, pushing with all the strength your weak body could muster. “P-peter, don’t want,” black mascara-stained tears streamed down your face, your lipstick smudged up to your nose, and you looked absolutely wrecked.

“I didn’t fucking ask,” his voice was near a growl, “m’gonna cum in this pretty, puffy pussy. Listen to it scream for me, pulling me back in, fluttering around me. You want this.”

You shook your head, pushing once again, you let out a choked sob as he thrusted particularly hard, “N-no.”

Peter moaned loudly, squeezing your plump waist as he stilled. 

You could feel his hot, hot cum painting your walls. You felt a weight on your heart, he had coaxed multiple orgasms from you, stolen them and your innocence along with them. And now, he was inside of you. His cum had likely forced its way into your cervix, mingling with your most intimate of places. 

A small part of you liked it. You tried your hardest to ignore that part of you that enjoyed being full. So full of Peter. He was the best for you, after all. 

Peter thrusted a few more times, dreading the thought of leaving your tight, warm hole. 

You were everything he had ever imagined. Your plump body, your sugary sweet taste, your beautiful noises…

He would never let you go.

Peter gave your limp body a final kiss. You were too fucked out to react. As he pulled out of you he stared at your puffy cunt. It was wet with slick and sweat. Cum slid out of the abused hole. He took his finger and pushed it back in, loving the way you jolted and tried to close your legs.

Peter Parker loved to look at you. Even more so now, with you bare in front of him. Your skin was glistening under the rays of the artificial streetlights outside your window and remnants of your innocence were on his cock.

[azkzaban]

SNAPSHOT

PROLOGUE 1.9k words | 10,630 characters

Your fingers tapped the table, your eyes burning as you stared at your computer screen. You rubbed your forehead as a crease forms. The tip of your tongue pushed against the top of your mouth as you did your best to not squeeze the drink in your hand.

Your nose was wrinkled slightly as you rested your foot on the stretcher of the table, your other jerking repeatedly on the ground.

The document you pulled up hours ago remained blank, the cursor blinking constantly, ridiculing you, causing your frustration to rise. The warm air of the cafe didn't help the agitation that crawled up your neck either.

The screen taunted you with its flickering line. It seemed to say, "Come on, write something. Anything. I dare you." You hated it. At this moment, there was nothing you hated more than writing. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did writing feel like such a daunting task when speaking was so effortless?

You clenched your hand around the plastic cup, feeling it bend under your grip. The lid popped off with a loud noise, startling you. Cold coffee spilled over your fingers and onto the table. You let out a frustrated sigh and dropped the cup, wiping your hand on your jeans.

“Shit,” you hissed quietly.

A subtle groan left your mouth as you sucked some of the dribbles off your hand, looking around for a napkin. Could this day get any better?

You get up, wincing at the drenched, sticky feeling on your skin and clothes as you walk to the counter, grabbing a handful of tissues. You wiped your sodden fingers and sauntered back, cleaning the mess on the table and on your cup.

First, you had woken up late for class, again, after your roommate turned off your shared alarm. She had left early for her own class, leaving you to oversleep. You scrambled out of bed and threw on some clothes, having to skip breakfast to beat time. You had hoped to catch the bus, but as you rushed out of the door, you saw it pulling away from the stop.

You then had to walk down 116th. The weather was cold and miserable, and the sidewalks were covered in slush and ice. You tried to be careful, but you slipped and fell several times, bruising your knees and elbows.

You could still feel the cold that seeped into your bones and the throbbing in your limbs. You wished you had worn a warmer coat and gloves, but you didn't have time to think about that.

Finally when you reached the classroom, 10 minutes late, you snuck in and sat in the back, hoping the professor wouldn't notice you. Only for him to call you out in the middle of class to lecture about punctuality and responsibility and the importance of it in journalism.

To add on to the embarrassment, you had taken out your laptop and opened the file of your last assignment. You had worked hard on it, hoping to improve your grade after failing the previous two. Clicking on the feedback link, you hoped to see a good score. But instead, you saw a big red F. Your heart sank and your eyes stung. You read the comments, and they were harsh and unforgiving. You had made too many mistakes, missed the point, and failed to follow the instructions.

Whoever said senior year was the easiest, lied. You've had more trouble the closer your graduation got, and at this point, you weren't sure if you were going to make it. If you were to fail this next assignment, you were done for.

You crumbled the napkins and tossed them on the table in frustration.

“You have to give me another chance," you begged, your voice cracking with despair. You felt like you were on the verge of a breakdown, ready to rip out your hair in frustration. “Please, don't do this to me. I'm so close to graduating. Please, please –"

Your professor sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes wearily. He raised his hand to stop your pleading and you felt a knot in your throat as you clamped your mouth shut.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I know how much this means to you. I really do. But there's nothing I can do at this point."

“That's not true! You've been holding me back for months, keeping my grade just below the passing mark, no matter how hard I worked! I did all the extra assignments, I submitted everything on time, this is so unfair!"

“Your effort is commendable, but it's not enough if you don't respect the rules." His voice was cold and firm as he slammed his fist on the desk, making you flinch. “You've been constantly defying my instructions, my feedback, my expectations – everything that was essential for you to pass this course.”

"I followed your guidelines to the letter! You asked me to cover the story on the museum fire on 12th Street? I did it. The school's scholarship fund running out of money? I fucking nailed it! You can't fail me just because I have a different style than you!”

"Watch your mouth, Ms. Y/L/N!”

You shook your head, feeling a surge of anger and helplessness. You buried your face in your hands and let out a long, shaky breath. You lifted your head and looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Please. I've done everything I could… what can I do to make this right?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, his tongue pressing against his cheek as if he was holding back his words. He took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses on his nose, then ran his fingers through his raven hair. A low groan escaped his lips before he locked his gaze with yours.

"Look... I don't have any problem with you, you have to understand that. I never meant to make you feel that way. You have a gift for writing, Ms. Y/L/N, but you're not objective. You let your emotions cloud your judgment-"

"That's my voice, Professor," you cut him off, making his jaw clench. "That's how I express myself in my work because I believe it's not facts that move people. It's feelings and empathy. It's the connection you have to your writing that makes people listen. Please, you can't penalize me for that. It goes against the essence of journalism.”

His mouth formed a thin line of displeasure and his fingers drummed impatiently on the textbook in front of him. His left eye twitched as he averted his gaze from you and you held your breath. You've never dared to challenge a teacher before. It was a nauseating feeling and a part of you longed to erase the past few minutes.

"Sir, please,” you whisper. "Give me another piece —”

"—There's no room for other opinions in this world, Ms. Y/L/N. The moment you make yours known, you will be a target. No job will hire you. All I've been trying to do is protect you."

“You're destroying me."

He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. A long pause followed, as if he was weighing his words carefully. He opened his eyes and straightened his back, making the old chair squeak in protest.

"Alright... I’ll tell you what." He said, leaning forward and resting his chin on his knuckles. "I want you to pick a topic that is heavy with controversy. The most divisive issue you can think of, and write about it without taking sides. If you can do that, I'll bump your grade up to a C, maybe even higher.”

"Sir—"

"A good journalist has to learn to be impartial. You have to learn how to present the facts from different perspectives, otherwise you're not going to capture the whole image. And that means your readers won't either. It's a fair offer, Ms. Y/L/N, I urge you to accept it.”

And accept you did... and now you are faced with a blank screen and a pounding headache.

You drop your head onto your keyboard with a muffled moan. You had a firm opinion on everything. It often gets you into trouble. How did you think you could manage this?

And a controversial topic? There were endless of those, how were you supposed to select one that was impressive enough?

You raised your head and let out a weary sigh as you faced the jumbled mess of letters on your screen. Your mind throbbed as you rubbed your tired eyes, hitting backspace to delete the nonsense.

"—iderman spotted near S.R.F shortly after the explosion that claimed the lives of two scientists—"

The abrupt sound of a news report made you turn your head, spotting a boy with curly brown hair who hastily lowered the volume on his phone. He caught your gaze and offered you a sheepish wave. You forced a smile and shifted your attention back to your laptop.

Your eyes scanned the document with a frown, feeling frustrated by the lack of progress. Then, a faint gasp escaped your lips. You straightened up and glanced over your shoulder again. The boy was clutching his phone in his hand, his mouth tight and his knuckles pale. You strained your ears to hear what his phone was saying, your heart hammering in your chest.

"—wondering if his reign of terror has reached a new level after one of his signature webs was discovered outside the lab's entrance. Some claim the infamous red and blue hero, or villain, was there to prevent the disaster and that he actually rescued the workers inside, while more than half the world believe Spiderman was behind—"

Your eyes widened.

Spiderman.

Spiderman was the most divisive subject in the world. He was the lead of nearly every conversation in New York. The hero who turned evil.

The boy suddenly frowned and locked eyes with you, his eyes burning with a strange intensity. They were dark, like a void, making your pulse race and stomach tingle. You looked away. A shiver went down your spine as your brows knitted.

You glanced at your laptop screen, your fingers poised over the keyboard. With a breath, you dragged your cursor to the empty space where 'Unknown Title' lingered. You erased it and typed a new one.

‘The Spiderman Dilemma: Is He a Hero or a Threat?’

You tugged at the chapped flakes of your lip with your teeth, letting out huff. You clicked your tongue in annoyance and dragged your cursor over the title, erasing it. Your fingers flew over the keys as you bit the inside of your cheek.

'Spiderman: The Man Behind the Mask.'

You snorted as you typed the last letter. You pressed the delete key until the screen was blank again. You drummed your fingers on the table, feeling frustrated.

A hand landed on the back of your chair and you nearly jumped out of your skin as the mysterious boy suddenly leaned over you, peering at your computer screen. His presence was intrusive and oppressive and you opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

"How about, 'Spiderman: Murderer of New York,'" he suggested, tapping the back of your chair. "Who is the next victim and how far will he go?’ It’ll get you more awards, trust me."

Your eyebrows knitted together and you tried to speak again, but he walked away before you could, shaking his head in disapproval. Your eyes followed him until he disappeared, then you frowned and looked back at your computer.

Definitely can't write that.