#dark peter parker x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherienymphe · 9 months

Text

Basic Training XIII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, 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.

Peter was at work.

It had been some weeks since the inevitable had happened, waking up to find Peter putting on his uniform. You had expected it at some point, but definitely not so soon. Or, at least, soon for you. It had been hard to hide the disappointment on your features when the dark-haired man had glanced at you, his own face falling some as he neared you.

“Hey,” he’d softly said, cupping your face as he leaned over the bed. “It’ll be okay.”

You hadn’t responded, only blinking, and Peter continued.

“I’ll only be gone a few hours, just to get both of us back into the swing of things. I’ll be back in no time,” he’d assured you.

He’d been right, of course. He had only been gone for a few hours that day, but what felt like no time to him felt like an entire day to you. You’d gone through every task like it was indeed nothing more than a chore, merely trying to find some solace in your cleaning and cooking and gardening, trying to find some way to keep your mind off of Peter’s absence.

In truth, all you’d accomplished was counting down the minutes until he returned.

You’d been in the middle of helping Pepper with lunch when familiar hands had settled on your waist. It had startled you, at first, before the familiarity of them set in, prompting you to stop what you were doing. You hadn’t hesitated to turn and wrap your arms around him, feeling so much more at ease with him home.

“What’ya making?” he’d asked after briefly acknowledging the other woman in the room when she’d done the same.

“Thor wanted subs,” you’d told him. “Pepper’s toasting the bread.”

He’d smiled at that, and it was something you did often, now. Unable to hide your relief at having Peter home, telling him about your day, and listening when he did the same. The town struck you as so small, from what you remembered anyway, but you were always shocked by just how much crime and mess Peter and the rest of the station had to deal with.

The day he’d come home with a bandage on his arm was burned into your memory.

“It’s nothing,” he’d kept reassuring you. “Just some asshole trying to rob a bank with bad aim.”

You hadn’t laughed at the joke as Peter had, and he’d quickly swallowed his chuckles down. He’d reached out to touch your face in the hallway, but you’d been intently focused on the light blood that had bled through a bit. He’d been right, of course. It was nothing, a flesh wound, a graze, but it hadn’t stopped you from worrying all the same.

The heaviness in your chest had shocked you. After all, you liked to think that Peter meant nothing to you, but that wasn’t entirely true. You’d hesitantly reached up to graze his arm just below the white gauze, eyes burning. Peter could’ve been seriously hurt, he could’ve died, and that had worried you for more reasons than one.

“Peter,” you’d softly started once in the privacy of your room moments later. “What would happen to me…if something happened to you…?”

Surprisingly, it was a thought that had never occurred to you before. These men were mortal and human just like anyone else, and considering their professions, the possibility of any of them dying should’ve entered your mind at least once or twice. However, as you’d stared at his arm, you realized that this was the first time you’d truly given it some thought.

You’d heard him sigh.

“Don’t think about that,” he’d tried to coax you away from the thought, making you look at him.

“…but you’re a cop…and clearly this town isn’t as boring and safe as I’d initially thought.”

You had multiple reasons to come to that conclusion.

“What if something does happen to you?” you’d quietly asked him.

Peter had stared at you for a while before slowly leaning in and brushing his lips against yours.

“That won’t happen, pretty girl,” he’d slowly assured you, continuing before you could say anything. “…but if that ever were to happen…you’d just still be a functioning part of the household with no title to your name.”

You had frowned at that. So, you’d still be doing as you did but just without Peter around. The thought had terrified you for one reason above all else, and his name was Steve. You didn’t even want to imagine the kind of trouble you’d get into without Peter around to protect you, and you had thrown your arms around him before you knew it.

He’d rubbed your back, making soothing sounds, but you’d shaken your head, burying your face into his shoulder.

“I think I’d rather just die.”

You had said it so quietly you were sure Peter didn’t even hear you, but if the way he’d paused was anything to go by, he’d heard you clearly.

You couldn’t survive in this place without Peter, and he had to know that. You felt like you were barely hanging on when he was around, and God knows that thread only became thinner when he went to work. If you had to face the reality of never seeing Peter ever again, you didn’t doubt that you’d lose all reason under Steve’s wrath and stern discipline.

“Don’t say that,” he’d whispered. “Besides, it’s not going to happen.”

You had to believe that because the alternative wasn’t feasible to you.

“You don’t know that,” you’d murmured back, fingers digging into his side and the uninjured arm.

“You wouldn’t want to live without me…? Even if you had something to remember me by?”

You’d stiffened at that, understanding dawning on you as to what he was hinting at.

Peter didn’t bring up the possibility of kids often. He probably didn’t want to scare you, but you knew what was expected of you…you knew what he wanted. On the off chance that Sharon or Laura brought their sons around or Steve or Margaret stepped out with Sarah, you were no fool. You saw the smile that lit up Peter’s boyish features. You saw the longing in his deep brown eyes, the desire to have children of his own someday…with you.

Of all the men here, if any of them deserve to have a kid, you supposed that it was Peter.

However, you wondered just how true that was. The man had kidnapped you, after all, and clearly had no qualms against his brothers and whatever methods they chose to punish their wives with. Peter wasn’t a good guy, no matter how good he made you feel these days, and so maybe he didn’t deserve any children.

…but you yourself had wanted kids someday…but not like this.

The thought of subjecting your future sons to the same fate as their father or your future daughters to the same fate as you made your eyes water. It seemed like such a cruel thing to do, but giving Peter children was inevitable, you supposed. It’s not like you had any means to protect yourself against the possibility, and since Peter had first had sex with you, he had never not come inside of you.

It was honestly only a matter of time.

“I…don’t know,” you’d honestly answered his question.

Without Peter, any child you had would be far better off with any of the other wives than with you. You doubted that you’d even be able to look after yourself, let alone a whole other person who’d completely depend on you. On the other hand, though, you didn’t know if you could trust your hypothetical child’s wellbeing with anyone but you. Especially with Steve around.

Someone had to make sure they didn’t grow up completely messed up by all of this.

…but then again…maybe you weren’t right to be that someone either.

After all, Peter had kidnapped and raped you, and you greeted him when he came home from work each evening. You smiled as you told him about your day. You clung to him in the dead of night and welcomed his kisses. Even then, as you held him and fretted over his safety and the danger you had never considered he’d be in before…

You yourself were already so messed up by all of this, so how could you keep the same from happening to anyone else?

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

Peter’s soft encouragement went straight to the pit of your stomach, adding to the heat that was already there. The water in the bathtub jostled slightly, small ripples in the water from your movements. Peter’s hands were pressed firmly into your waist, and you could feel his gaze on you.

“So good,” he whispered, leaning up and brushing his lips against yours.

You felt so…full, much fuller than you did when Peter was covering your frame with his own, pressing you into the mattress and pushing his cock into you with a pace that had your breath shortening. Now, you were the one on top of him, lifting and lowering yourself, sliding up and down on his cock with every movement.

A simple bath had turned into something more when Peter’s hand dipped between your legs, a noise of mischief escaping his lips as you’d tried to shy away. He’d been smooth in sliding you back onto him, a hand resting on your back before he’d expressed his desire to see your face.

Peter pressed kisses along the expanse of your throat, tasting you with them and his tongue. Your bare chest brushed against his own with every rise and fall of your hips, your hands pressed into his shoulders to steady yourself. Sex wasn’t new to you, but you’d always thought of it as a chore more often than not. You’d thought it was just one of those things that wasn’t for you.

Peter’s presence proved that the fault lay with bad boyfriends.

Granted, it’s not like Peter gave you the choice to refuse sex, therefore forcing you to engage in something you’d always thought of as meh. He didn’t even allow you to disassociate as you had in the past, forcing you to be present and engaging and taking pleasure that you weren’t all that familiar with. You both hated and loved it.

Peter moaned into your mouth as he kissed you, a wet hand massaging into your back, and you kissed him back, hot and wanton and just as hungry for your climax as he was his. Every time you sank down onto him, your walls stretched, and with Peter’s hand on your hip, rolling it over his, you had to pull away and gasp.

The first time you came around him, you were in the tub, but you were in the bed when you stiffened around him for the second time. Peter talked you through it, whispering sweet nothings to you as explosions burst behind your eyes, one hand twisted with yours and the other tracing patterns into your thigh.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured into your neck, his chest pressed to your back as you lay beneath him. “We both have to wake up pretty early, though.”

He sounded sad as he said that, pulling away from you. You were still catching your breath when you turned to face him, eyes fluttering closed as he reached out to brush his fingers over your face. You were tired, but you still found the strength to stare back at him. Peter was pretty, you’d noted before, but it was something you hadn’t wanted to linger on then.

Your eyes drooped a bit as his hand danced towards yours, taking it and playing with your fingers. It was moments like this that made it so easy to pretend. It was dark outside, and in the room, the only light coming from the glow of the moon outside. The rest of the house was quiet, and the only sounds in the room were that of your labored breathing.

It was moments like this that made it easy to pretend as if Peter hadn’t kidnapped you, as if his brothers hadn’t killed your friends. It was easy to pretend like you were the only ones in this whole house, just basking in each other’s presence and the afterglow of taking pleasure in each other’s bodies under the cover of darkness.

Like a normal man with a normal job simply coming home from work and making love to his normal wife.

Peter’s fingers touched your ring, and you were brought back to reality.

“Not every couple has done it…but some of the others have…had ceremonies…”

Your brows rose at that, and Peter’s gaze remained on the thorned ring around your finger.

“I would really like it if we had one too,” he murmured. “I… I want to declare my love and vows to you in front of the whole family…and have you do the same to me.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that, and so you merely frowned. Your eyes met Peter’s when he finally glanced up, and his tongue darted between his lips.

“…because I do, you know.”

When you didn’t respond, your confusion must’ve been evident to him because he continued.

“I do love you.”

That word made you feel faint, and you quickly sat up. Peter followed, a hand on the back of your neck and the other still playing with your hand.

“I do,” he reiterated, making it hard to swallow. “You’re so open about what’s on your mind, and you’re never afraid to ask me anything you want.”

You hesitantly looked at him, pulling your gaze away from the sheets.

“…and now that you’ve finally settled here, I can see how caring you are. I see how worried you get when you think Jane is straining herself or when you think Margaret might be too tired on her feet. I saw it when you were more worried about your mom than…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish it. Maybe it was silly at the time to worry more about your free mom than your captive self, but you couldn’t help it.

“I knew I chose right, but it’s something entirely different to have it confirmed every single day,” Peter whispered, taking his hand and resting it under your chin. “…and you may not love me yet, but that’s okay because I know you will…just like I love you.”

Peter’s words were so…heavy. You found it hard to believe that he loved you, but then again, Peter had nothing but all the time in the world to observe you and watch you and take note of every flaw and quirk. Who were you to tell him what he felt? No man had ever told you that before, and there were layers to the fact that the first one who did was the same who’d stolen you away.

Something stirred in your chest at that.

“I want to make every promise in the world to you, and I want to do it in front of our family.”

Our family.

That was so strange to hear, but wasn’t it the truth? You had long accepted that you were never leaving, and despite what you personally wanted, this was your family, now…weren’t they?

“You don’t have to give me an answer, now,” Peter assured you, laying back down, fingers grazing over your lower back. “…but you know what I want.”

Yes, but what did you want?

You cared about Peter more than you wanted to admit. The thought of losing him in any way made your chest ache, but that wasn’t love. You knew what it really was, but your heart couldn’t decipher real feelings from ones brought on by circumstances and a means to cope. Your heart only knew that Peter was now in it, and his fingers on your skin and his devotional words made you feel things that you were ashamed of.

He pulled you back down to lie with him, resting your head on his arm as you clung to it. You looked up at him as sleep fought to claim him, his own lashes fluttering as he stifled a yawn. You were going to be with Peter forever, that was indubitable, and declaring that in front of the whole household wasn’t going to make it any more true than it already was.

You tilted your head back down, pressing your face into the arm of the man who loved you.

You had just got done taking the dish out of the oven when a familiar voice outside drew your attention. Peter’s laugh was loud, and you hurried to set the heavy pie and get your gloves off. He had been gone when you woke up, and Sam had told you that he’d had to go in early with Steve. You thought that meant he’d be home earlier, but no. This was one of those rare days where he was gone almost the whole day, and you’d been so anxious.

“Slow down, Y/N,” Christine called as you dashed out of the kitchen.

No other effort was made to stop you, and you practically tripped over your feet as you hurried down the hall. If Peter was having some important conversation with Steve and Tony, he put it on the back burner in favor of catching you as you flew into his arms.

“Woah, hey,” he chuckled, arm tight around you as he held you to him.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” you murmured. “You were gone when I woke up.”

You pulled away just a tad, hand twisting into Peter’s dark uniform as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“I know,” he sadly said. “This one screwed up some paperwork with a guy we arrested, and we had to go in pretty early.”

He jerked his head towards Steve as he said this, and you’d forgotten about the blonde’s presence entirely. Tony too. You barely spared them both a glance, only acknowledging them as evenly and respectfully as possible without putting in too much effort. You were already turning back to Peter when they returned the acknowledgement.

“Jane told me your favorite food,” you told him, pulling and forcing him to come with you.

He threw Steve and Tony a backwards glance as he waved them off, signaling that they’d continue whatever they were talking about later.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I made a cherry pie,” your tone was hopeful, nervous, and Peter’s gaze lit up.

“Really…?” he wondered as he stopped, more excited, now. “All by yourself?”

You nodded.

“It hasn’t been tasted yet, so I hope you like it,” you worriedly said.

The other man softly chuckled, and you briefly glanced up as Natasha walked by.

“I bet it’s perfect,” Peter assured you, kissing your cheek. “…and even if it isn’t, I’ll love it anyway. You made it, after all.”

You weren’t able to linger on his words like you wanted to, worriedly gazing at the redhead’s back.

You’d been worried for her ever since that day she’d told you she thought she was pregnant. She hadn’t brought it up since, and neither had you, too afraid of being overheard by the wrong person. You didn’t know if she was or wasn’t, and if she was, and Bucky knew, the whole house would definitely know by now. Thor had made a whole day of it when he found out Jane was pregnant, and considering what Natasha had told you about all of their efforts, you doubted that Bucky would be any different.

However, there was no word of it, and while Natasha didn’t seem as mopey as she had been, she was still…off. Quieter. She smiled more, now, especially at Bucky, and you’d found yourself wondering if she’d made peace with what he did to your friends so quickly. It seemed…unlikely but considering that she was in the same boat as you, with no chances of leaving, it’s possible she wanted to make peace with it for her own sake.

You wouldn’t fault her if she did.

None of this was easy, and especially so considering her own history with Bucky, so you felt no anger or disgust when their intertwined hands rested on the table between them. You didn’t blame her for the smiles she threw his way, or the soft kisses on her cheek that she didn’t turn away from. After all, you yourself had cut the first piece of pie for Peter, anxious to see how the brunette liked it.

“It’s great,” he hummed.

You’d been skeptical, still unsure of your own cooking skills, but Peter had assured you that he wasn’t placating you. He’d even fed you a piece, and you’d been shocked at just how good it really was. You and Peter had mostly been in your own world throughout dinner. After all, you hadn’t seen him all day, something that only strengthened your animosity towards Steve, and you felt like you had so much to tell him.

So, when dinner was over—and Natasha and Laura were cleaning up—you were disappointed as Peter stood too. The other men were heading towards the den to talk about work and the household as they did every evening after dinner. Peter’s hand was on your lower back as he walked you towards the stairs, and you knew your hesitation was evident.

“You’ve been gone all day,” you whispered, almost afraid to voice your desire to have him come upstairs with you. “…and who knows how long that will take. I don’t want to be asleep when you finally come up to bed.”

Peter tilted his head at you, studying you in a way you couldn’t place. His other hand reached for yours, fingers threading through your own, and you watched his tongue dart between his lips. There was a furrow between his brows, like he was thinking deeply about something before he glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you want to sit with me?”

You hadn’t expected that.

You didn’t quite catch what he meant at first, and then it was your turn to frown. You blinked at him, confusion and apprehension filling you.

“I can…?”

You couldn’t swallow down the small relief you were starting to feel. It would be different—unfamiliar—but at least you’d be with Peter instead of alone in your bedroom.

“Am I allowed to?” you wondered. “I didn’t think any of us could.”

Peter gave you an encouraging smile.

“It’s not common,” he honestly answered, pulling you along. “…but sometimes little Sarah can only be quieted by Steve so Margaret will bring her, or now, with Jane being pregnant and hormonal, she gets her way if she wants to rest in Thor’s lap.”

He chuckled at that.

You’d cleaned the den a few times. It was a large room with no windows, only brightened by the low light of lamps. The furniture was all dark wood and leather, and it had a bar that you’d never been tempted to use. You’d always been able to imagine the men sitting around and discussing police paperwork and what household business needed to take priority over others.

As Peter led you into the room, you realized you’d be witnessing it tonight.

“Peter…”

Steve’s stern drawl of his name reached your ears, half warning, half question.

“She’ll be good,” Peter lightly promised.

There were just enough seats for the men, and you realized why Peter had mentioned Jane sitting in Thor’s lap when she got in one of her moods. You didn’t hesitate to sit by Peter’s feet, curling your legs up underneath you as he took your hand. Truthfully, you didn’t care what they had to discuss, even if it was interesting and consisted of the mention of some woman who’d broken into a house.

You just cared about being next to Peter.

As you’d guessed, you were tired, and you were right to worry that you would’ve been asleep by the time Peter joined you. At some point during the meeting, your head drooped, and you did the right thing in leaning it against the side of Peter’s leg, your cheek resting on his thigh. Your hands curled around his leg, holding onto him as you fought sleep. Your lashes fluttered, and it was easier said than done…

Especially when you felt Peter’s hand on your head.

His fingers gently pressing into your scalp was soothing, and you slowly blinked, fighting fatigue. You were pretty sure Thor was talking, now. Or was it Stephen? Either way, it didn’t help, and you shifted, tightening your arms around Peter’s leg. The feel of his hand in your hair was going to put you fast asleep…if it weren’t for the feel of an oppressing gaze.

When you glanced over, your eyes met familiar blue ones, Steve hardly paying attention to a thing Stephen was saying. His cold blue irises were focused entirely on you. For a moment, you worried that you did something wrong, and you clung to Peter even tighter, and the brunette made an inquiring humming noise. You only shook your head in response, looking away from the blond and desperately wondering why he seemed to hate you so.

It was hours later when sleep evaded you. It was strange. You’d been so exhausted downstairs that you’d passed out almost immediately when you crawled into bed. However, your body had betrayed you in the middle of the night, waking and refusing to go back. Peter’s arm was comforting around your waist when you stirred, and you’d simply laid there for a few moments, basking in the feel and sound of him before making your way to the window.

The moon was only half full, and you used the glow of it to look down at your ring.

You thought about what Peter had said, about a ceremony, and you touched the thorned metal. You had never given marriage a lot of thought before, but you had never imagined it would be in the backyard of a large and beautiful country house, decorations and everything homemade.

You had also never imagined it would be to the man who’d kidnapped you either, but…

You sighed, shifting the ring a tad and blinking. It was true that your friends would want you to be happy, and that your mom, wherever she hoped you were, hoped you were okay. In a lot of ways, you weren’t, but in some ways…you were. No one in your life would’ve wanted this for you, that was sure, but you were in a bad situation, you were never getting out of this bad situation, and so why not make some good of it?

You glanced up, eyes running over the yard briefly, and you were about to look back down at your ring…

…when you saw it.

Movement in the yard made you blink, and it was so late, you almost wrote it off as some animal. You were out in the rural Midwest, hidden away amongst the trees, and so the odd animal here and there wasn’t uncommon. Jane had left a towel on the clothesline one night and something had dragged it off by the next morning.

However, looking closer, the figure was too large to be some animal.

They were moving across the yard, slowly and carefully, as if they were trying to go undetected. There was a sinking feeling deep in your gut, and you took a step closer to the window. You could feel yourself frowning, worry coursing through you as you watched some stranger figure move about. You were just about to call for Peter when the glow of the moon glinted off of hair.

Beautiful red hair.

Your lips parted at the sight of Natasha in the yard. It was too late for anyone to be outside, let alone her, and when she looked over her shoulder, her green eyes lifted right towards your window. You could tell that she saw you, her face falling just a tad, and you both blinked at each other. It didn’t quite click at first, unable to understand why Natasha was outside so late, but then your eyes fell to her clothes, clothes that she wouldn’t be caught dead in in the house.

Bucky’s clothes.

You felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had washed over you, and you placed your hand on the window, your gaze almost pleading. You silently begged her to come back, to turn around before she was caught. You shook your head, disbelief and horror and confusion tearing through you. You shook your head at her again, glancing at your door, trying to silently convey that you’d help her come back inside and lie if need be.

Anything to keep her from being thrown in that basement again.

However, Natasha silently refused, her only response being to step away slowly and continue going. You sharply exhaled, feeling frozen, and you didn’t know what to do. She didn’t look back again as she ran across the yard, and you pressed your hand to your stomach just as a familiar voice reached your ears.

“What are you doing up?”

Peter’s voice was groggy, sleep coating his tone, and you flinched. Blinking, you looked over your shoulder, heart in the pit of your gut as he rubbed his eyes. You stared at Peter with parted lips, eyes burning with tears, but you didn’t know why. You were confused. You were scared, but why did you want to cry?

Was it because you had to tell Peter that Natasha had managed to sneak out somehow, making a break for it? That her entire demeanor this past month had been a farce, a way to be sure Bucky wouldn’t be suspicious? That the discovery of what he did to her friends had indeed been too much for her and had pushed her over the edge to bring all of them down?

Were you crying because you had to tell Peter Natasha had escaped and therefore get her into more trouble than she probably ever had been in before?

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Peter had seen your face, now, sitting up with concern in his eyes, and you glanced over your shoulder. You could just barely make out Natasha on the other side of the pond, so close to the trees, and you exhaled.

Or were you crying because if Natasha succeeded, your time with Peter would be numbered? Peter was the reason you were here, the sole reason you were in this place, and yet, the thought of him behind bars and forever separated from you was too much to wrap your head around. The man was your sole comfort. Peter was who you clung to, the thought of being away from him enough to send you into a downward spiral.

Peter was all you had, now…

…and yet…

With all of that being true, your eyes finally met his again.

“I… I had a nightmare.”

The lie was said so softly, you almost couldn’t believe you’d said it. You watched his face fall some, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching for you. Like an obedient lamb, you walked right into his embrace, and more tears spilled over before you could stop them. He shushed you, rubbing your back and soothing you, but you couldn’t be consoled.

The moment to stop Natasha was gone. Who knows how long it would be before Bucky discovered her absence. If Natasha was caught, you did not envy what awaited her, but if she succeeded…you did not envy what awaited the you in the future. You did not envy the version of you that would have to watch Peter be arrested and separated from you forever.

You didn’t envy the version of you that would have to learn to live without him.

You wrapped your arms around him and let Peter pull you into a kiss.

#peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #dark!peter Parker x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel imagine #peter parker fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

thefiery-phoenix · 9 months

Text

YANDERE PETER PARKER HEADCANONS

Bold of you to even assume you'll be left alone and have your privacy with this boi here. Bby boi here loves you so much, you're the very reason he's living and you're like AIR for him. If he's not close to you, he feels like he's shattering and dying inside and hence, he might stalk you every now and then as Spiderman pretending he's on rounds around the city just to make sure you're safe

He is a literal puppy mark my words and when you deny him something, his expression will resemble that of a kicked puppy that'll tug your heart strings for SURE

"Baby do you REALLY HAVE to go to that party? I mean, you barely even know them you just met them 2 months ago~"

Will beg you to spend every single second of your time with him and as a yandere, I can clearly see him as a worshipper who'll worship TF outta you pal

If you go out somewhere without telling him, expect a dozen messages on your phone and 45 FREAKING MISSED CALLS!!! Ngl..... he just wants you to be safe and once you come back, he'll smother you with his love and affection and pepper your face with kisses

His aunt May adores you and treats you like her very daughter. She likes baking you muffins and cookies when you come by

Hates it when you talk to other people and he's clearly making an exception for MJ and Ned though he prefers if you talk to them less. He's just scared of losing you

He'll kidnap you if he thinks you're in danger which lets say happens after a month you 2 start dating. Don't worry, he'll stock up everything you love and he'll have all your favorite movies and books available for you and he'll even be so generous as to have a Wattpad and a tumblr account so long as you do your stuff on HIS phone and he keeps track of what you're posting

He absolutely HATES and DESPISES punishing you when you misbehave and as much as he loves you, he'll convince himself that he needs to discipline you for your own good. Nothing too drastic though, he'll just restrict you from using your favorite things and no screen time. You'll be bored outta your skull for sure but hey, at least he's not locking you up in a room with chains dangling around you

When it comes to other people who he thinks are trying to steal his sweetheart from him (Aka. YOU), he will not hesitate to get messy and kill someone. He'll try framing that person like convincing people he was a corrupt person or an illegal drug seller or something like that and either spread rumors or directly kill them. No one messes with his darling and gets the hell away with it, not if he can help it and YES, he CAN help it

Will use EDITH to make sure you're safe

"Oh sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about, I'll take care of everything for you. You won't leave me will you?"

#yandere peter parker #yandere peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker scenarios #yandere peter parker oneshots #yandere peter parker imagines #yandere peter parker headcanons #dark peter parker #dark peter parker x reader #yandere avengers #yandere avengers x reader #yandere avengers scenarios #yandere mcu #yandere mcu x reader #yandere marvel #yandere marvel x reader #yandere marvel characters #yandere marvel characters x reader

449 notes · View notes

friendlyneighborhoodhottie · 5 months

Text

─🕷────────────── Don't Lie To Me (Peter Parker x Reader -Angst-) ─🕷──────────────

You know Peter is cheating on you, and you want the truth.

I had no specific Peter Parker in mind when I wrote this, but enjoy. Language, cheating, angst, implied sex ahead.

770 Words

Peter had been increasingly coming home later than usual. You were sick of him hiding his phone all the time whenever it rang. You hated to be suspicious of him like this but you had a gut feeling something was wrong.

That gut feeling was confirmed when you saw the text light up his phone when you both were in bed one night. He was asleep and went to bed clutching his phone in his hand. It slipped out to lay flat on the mattress beside him. You didn't want to accidentally wake him, so you got out the bed and tiptoed around to his side. Hesitantly picking up the glowing device, you read the message:

New Message From Felicia

Hey Spider...When can I see you again? Last night was too fun ;)

You felt your heart sink.

You started to breathe rapidly, trying to focus on something else before you had a panic attack.

You brushed yourself off for a couple of days thinking maybe it was a coworker. Maybe it was taken out of context. Your Peter could never betray you like that.

But when his phone rang with her name once again, he tried to hide it, and you had enough.

"I got promoted today" He said glancing at you and then digging into his pasta.

You stayed silent as you shook your head and raised your eyebrows. You held the metal fork, gripping it hard, wanting nothing more than to stab him with it.

He continued cautiously, it didn't take his spidey sense to notice your grip on the fork: "I think it'll be good for the both of us, and in a couple months I can probably become assistant manager of the company. What do you think?"

He waited for your answer, and when he received none he frowned.

"Baby, you're being so quiet, what's-"

"Yeah, Peter, I'm sorry for being quiet, and all, while you want to celebrate, but you know what I think? I think fucking other people while you know how much I love you is fucking cruel. Who the fuck is Felicia?" You exhaled through your nostrils, eyebrows furrowed as you let your hidden rage out.

You could see his face go pale, confirming you discovered something he always meant to keep a secret.

"She's...she's just...she's just a-" he stuttered not helping his case whatsoever.

"Peter. Don't you lie to me." your voice stern.

"She an old friend, we've been catching up and there's nothing going on between us." You could tell he was lying.

"Then let me see your phone, Peter."

"What? No, (y/-)"

"Let me see your Goddamn phone!" you yelled. You hated to yell but you were at a breaking point. You tried to stay strong, tears attempting to form in your eyes.

He reluctantly put in his password, and handed it to you while sighing deeply. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.

"Wow."

That was really all you could say. Because the second you clicked on her contact the evidence spoke for itself. Dates they had planned, nudes sent, sexts exchanged. It was worse than you ever envisioned it would be.

You nodded your head accepting that this was reality as you prodded your tongue in your mouth before asking:

"What, so you were going to..just keep me around in case that didn't work out?" You folded your arms.

"It's not...it just kind of happened." he answered struggling to explain himself. What can he say? He was caught.

"But you still kept it going?" you threw your hand up and then back into your arm fold.

"I'm sorry." he says his voice starting to croak.

Your face was full of sadness, but you knew what you had to do. That trust was something that could never be replaced. And it's gone now.

"Sorry won't bring me back" you stated sadly.

You called a friend and asked if you could stay the night, telling them about the situation. You pulled your suitcase from the closet and stuffed as many of your clothes and items in there as possible.

You'd have to collect the rest of your stuff eventually. But tonight you just wanted to be away from Peter.

"Have fun with that" you said pointing to his phone as you left the house, pulling your suitcase behind you.

You got in your car and turned the key to the ignition to drive. Your tears finally flowed as you let yourself cry. You blinked rapidly and hot tears came rolling down, its warmth feeling oddly comforting in this cold time.

#dark peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker angst #marvel angst #dark peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman angst #gender neutral reader

161 notes · View notes

likely-moony · 8 months

Note

hi, how you doing? can i ask for some headcanons for clingy yandere boyfriend peter parker?

Okay, so I'm a blind Dumb-ass so I didn't read the headcanon part and instead wrote a short fic 💀💀

Anyway, hiii I'm doing great, and I hope you enjoy it!! <3

(Also, let's pretend I'm not casually returning as if nothing happened and I didn't disappear for 7 months)

Gaslight

Paring: Yandere Peter Parker x Reader

Type/words: Short Story ~ 888 Words

Synopsis: Peter doesn't like you going out to parties, so one night, when you're getting ready for a college reunion, Peter pulls out his big guns of toxic manipulation to get you to stay with him.

TW!!: Yandere-Themes, Yandere Characters, Abuse Of Power (Supernaturally, Scientifically??), Obsessive Characters, Unhealthy Feelings, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Abusive Relationships, Cheating Accusation, Toxic Relationship, Toxic Boyfriend Peter.

⚠️ YOU HAVE HAVE BEEN WARNED ⚠️

Masterlist

Rules For Requesting

Taglist

“Where’re you going?”

Peter’s voice rang out from the living room couch as you sat on your little chair in front of your dressing room mirror.

“What?”

You could hear Peter shift uncomfortably on the sofa as you pinned your hair into place.

“Well, you wearing that little skirt that I got you the other day and-”

With a sigh, you put your pins down and turned to him as he turn his head around to face you, not even bothering to get up.

“What are you talking about, Peter, I told you?” You began asking, your eyebrows slowing stitching together at his confusion. “I have a college reunion party tonight.”

Peter placed a sour expression on his face.

“You didn’t say that it was on tonight?” He muttered, seemingly disappointed.

“I did, Pete. A billion times over.” You said back to him, you face stone cold with determination. Ever since you’d moved in with him, or hell even before that, it was like you barely left your place.

Your appearances at party and gathering were starting to lower drastically. You never noticed it at first, which was how Pete liked it, but he got too greedy. He restricted you a little too muchf ro you to let it slide and he was starting to show his real face more and more.

But it didn’t worry peter too much. There’ wasn’t anything a nice lovely date with some expensive champagne, a bouquet of your favourite flowers and a billion kisses won’t fix. And if that didn’t cut it, he resorted to straight up gas lighting you. That always worked, and he’d simply do it again.

“No. You didn’t.” Peter said softly, ever so slightly shaking his head. Peter looked innocent and so left out that it made even you start to question your sanity and memory. Had you really not told him? Were the hundred notes you’ve left him made up, or were the billion messages you sent him fake?

“But- But I did. And I promised them I would go, tonight, Petey.” You said back to him, just as softly as you go up from your chair.

“So who is it for?” Peter’s sudden change in tone confused you.

“What..?” Peter seemed somewhat unconvinced at your confusion.

“It's just that- you never really wear those kind of skirts around me and suddenly you’re going to a college reunion wearing them, so-”

“What’re you trying to say, Peter?” You pressed on, inching towards him.

“So what I'm saying is- Who’s the other guy?” Those few words left you speechless. Did Peter really think you were screwing around with other guys behind his back simply because you wanted to go to a party with your friends?

“There is no other guy, Peter, I just wanted to go to a party with my ladies and have some fun!” You said, desperately.

Peter let out a shaky breath and he looked at the time on his phone.

“Fine then, go and enjoy your party love,” Peter said lovingly, looking at you with those same pair of glossy eyes you fell in love with. “I’ll just cancel it and reschedule it for another day,” He added almost silently at the end. It was a bait, obviously. It was a bait and you caught on like the adorable little thing that you are.

“Cancel what?” you asked, starting to sound worried.

“Oh, it’s really nothing.” Peter smiled, “Don’t worry about it and go enjoy your party.” Peter turned back to the tv and listen to your footsteps intently. That was also bait, and the real question now was are you going to try to catch it too?

Peter watched you intently in the reflection of the tv to see what you were going to do and when he saw you step forward, he had to hold himself back from smiling, because you had fallen straight into his trap yet once again.

“No, tell me.”

Peter faked an exhausted sigh.

“It’s dumb really. I just planned for us to have a sweet date night so I could cook you dinner while we relax and maybe even watch a movie together?” Peter looked up at you, his shiny doe eyes ever so slightly growing glossier.

They weren’t real tears of course, but Peter had mastered the art of fake tears and it always came in handy when you were being stubborn.

“Don’t worry about it though,” He said quickly, turning away from you, and back to the tv.

Peter watched you from the corner of his eyes and when he felt you wrap your arms around his chest, he knew you had fallen straight into his intricately webbed trap, yet once again.

“There’s so way I’d let you cancel such a romantic event.” You whispered into his ear as his hand instinctively came up and grabbed yours in a loving way. You kissed him on the cheek, “I’m sure I can skip this party. It’s not that important anyway.”

Good. That’s how Peter liked it. So pretty and compliant, he just loves you so much.

A little too much.

Peter took your hand and led you to take a seat next to him on the couch. He wrapped his arm around you as you landed your head on his chest.

“You’re just so adorable sometimes. I love you so much,”

Hope you enjoyed it :)

190 notes · View notes

giorno-plays-piano · 1 year

Text

What the Forest Gave Me

Pairing: fae!Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: threat of noncon, some very soft yandere vibes, allusion to kidnapping, minor violence, sort of fluff.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: When you are making a wish by the silver pond, the fairy wood answers to you and sends a fae your way. But why aren't you welcoming him with open arms?

P.S. Just a short drabble with an angry insecure fae boy 👀

_____________

He hates the chase. Hates seeing your back as you run away from him like a wounded animal when he didn't as much as touch you. Why do you run? He did nothing to hurt you. You asked him to come, to embrace you, and he came.

And you ran.

His long, pointed fingers elongate further as he growls in frustration, leaving angry marks on the trees he clutches not to fall: the forest is his abode, but it loves innocent human women and guards those who ask for help like some sort of a fairytale dragon. Why are you doing this? Why making his home his enemy? He only did what you've asked of him. You called him, and he came, and you abandoned him that very minute.

Heartless human. They say fae are treacherous, but you are hardly different. You lied, didn't you? You didn't want a lover. You asked the forest to send you one, to give you a mate, but when the young fae stepped out of the woods in his shiny flower crown, his hands full of fruits and berries to appease you, you screamed and ran away. You want a lover, but you don't want him.

It makes him mad.

Abandoning sweet fairy fruit on the meadow, he bolted after you, confused, ashamed, and unhappy. What did he do wrong? Did he look hideous in that flower crown of his? Did you dislike the fruits he brought? Did you think him ugly, unlikable because of his face? His scrawny body? His too-long limbs? Perhaps he wasn't a beauty, but he was a fae. They all looked somewhat alike. Surely, you knew that! You came to a fairy forest and asked for a lover, clearly knowing it would be someone of his kind. If you wanted a human lover, you would choose one in a village nearby. No human lived in his abode.

So why the chase? Why the horrified expression? What was it that made him so unwanted in your eyes? Why did you need to hurt him when he only sought to make your wish come true?

Unfair. You are unfair. Wicked. Unworthy of the forest protection. You deserve to be punished for hurting him.

The moment he thinks of it, you cry out, falling and rolling down a hill: it's in fae's nature to create magic anywhere they go, and if they aren't careful, magic seeps out of their thoughts seamlessly. Your cries are muffled as you collapse under an old oak tree, your back hitting its mighty trunk with a thud, and you curl up into a ball, wailing from pain. Your arms and legs are bruised by branches and thorns, twigs in your hair, and you are trembling like a beaten dog, shielding yourself from him with your arms.

"Please don't hurt me", you plead in a weak voice, crying, blood slowly seeping out of the little cuts along your leg the way magic drips from the pointed tips of his fingers.

He didn't want to do it. He didn't, he swears in his head as if it matters. Yes, he thought you were cruel, but he didn't want to hurt you.

Or did he?

No, no, not like that, he didn't want you hurt and crying on the cold ground. He wants you to say you were wrong when you abandoned him the moment he stepped on a meadow, but he doesn't want to hear your moans of pain or see you trembling at the sight of him, afraid he would break you.

"Please, please don't hurt me", you shake badly, your face puffy from tears, hands still up to prevent him from hurting you more.

He feels rotten. He's not a vicious fae. He doesn't hunt human women for sport. Abusing you for abandoning him was a heartless thing to do, nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, raising his hands up so you'd see he isn't going to struck you.

You shiver when you look at him through your fingers, still crying from pain, and he swears silently at himself. Nasty creature. Why did he do it to you? You are defenseless, almost bare in front of him.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispers, the sight of you, miserable, forcing a lump in his throat.

When his hands start to shine, you let out a scream, afraid he would harm you again, but the soft glow he emits gently spreads to your cuts and bruises, and your body gets warm as he works his magic, closing broken skin. He isn't the vicious sort, no. He finds no pleasure in cries and pleading. He is just a forest fae, a creature born under the moonlight to nurture the soil and everything that grows out of it, a shepherd of the fairy woods. Perhaps he is a little tricky like all fae are, but he isn't malicious. It hurts him to see you cry.

Minutes pass, and soon your body looks flawless again, your skin smooth and unmarked, your tears drying out as you stare at him, unsure to either thank him or run out of fear. He wouldn't blame you if you preferred the latter, feeling sorry one careless thought brought you so much pain. Maybe you hurt him first, but he shouldn't have held it against you.

"I'm sorry," he repeats again, careful not to make any sudden movements. "You asked me to come, and I came. And you ran."

He hates the way it sounds. Like it is your fault you fell. Why did he say it? It didn't sound like that in his head.

"But I..." you struggle to find the right words, looking at him from the ground, still a little afraid, and the fae lowers himself right onto the pile of dry leaves. "I didn't call for anyone."

"But you made a wish."

Yes, you did. You wished for a lover. A mate. You asked the forest send him to you, and it did.

He watches you slowly assembling pieces of a puzzle, dumbstruck your wish was granted in a matter of seconds. But aren't you one of a fair folk, you ask, choosing your words carefully not to upset him, but he gets frustrated, nonetheless.

"So what?" He grunts, shaking his head, and his disheveled flower wreath, finally knocked over, is falling on his lap. "Didn't you want a fae lover? No human lives in the fairy wood."

You are perplexed: you didn't think the forest would listen to your plea. It was just a silly wish, a few careless words dropped in a wrong place, you say, embarrassed he heard you. You wanted a lover, but it was a wish in a well of sorts. You didn't think the forest would hear and send you your betrothed. You thought he was a fae guardian who came to punish a mortal for breaking the fairy grounds.

"Are you... him?" You whisper, hugging your knees, staring at him so intently he suddenly blushes, his eyes on his feet.

"Yes," he says quietly when just mere minutes ago he was ready to scream it into your face. But how could he now? You were innocent. You didn't hurt him on purpose, not even thinking he was your fated lover. Surely, if he were in a strange place, meeting a strange creature out of nowhere, he would be scared, too. How could he hold it against you?

But he would if you rejected him. And he was afraid to ask you again. He hurt you badly, didn't he? He hurt and scared you. Would you take him now? No fae law prohibited him from whisking you away from mortal realm, but he thought of you, curled up under the mighty oak like a wounded animal, pleading him not to hurt you, and he couldn't make himself go with it. He dreamed of making flower wreaths and swimming in the silver pond and collecting wolfberries together, not coming home to you terrified of the sight of him, scared of his touch.

You clear your throat, abashed, your gaze directed at your feet, "Isn't it prohibited? A human and a fairy?"

His cheeks heat up as he mumbles, "After a High Lord married a human girl ages ago, nobody cares anymore."

He tries not to get his hopes up too much, but he already dreams of kissing your hands when you feed him wolfberries, making you a dress from sirenspider's web and moonlight, and teaching you how to make a wreath for every season and occasion. Bluebells for witching hours in spring, bramble and violets for early summer nights, parsley and cowslip when sleeping on the meadows...

"You asked me to come, and I came," he whispers, looking up to find you watching him. "Will you take me?"

Your silence is suffocating, and it hurts, it hurts him so much to look at you and see you twisting the fabric of your dress in your hands as if you want to refuse him but don't know how.

"Promise not to hurt me," you say, tiny droplets of sweat forming on your forehead from fear.

"I swear to never hurt you again," the fae proclaims obediently, his eyes on his feet again.

Oh, it hurts, it hurts so much to hear the hesitation in your voice. It feels like there is a burning hole in his chest, and you are adding oil to fire.

You take so long to say more. He knows he shouldn't blame you, not when he made you a prey to his anger, chasing you like a rabbit he was going to put on a skewer, but he is angry and frustrated and spiteful again, rejected by his fated lover. If you don't take him, nobody would.

When he hears your voice, he almost jumps. "I... uh... you- you scare me a little. I know you didn't mean to, but... and you're a fae. And I... uh... can I think a little more?.." your voice quivers a little as you stare at the heap of old red and brownish leaves on the ground. "What does it even mean to be a fae's lover? Would it only last a season? Or would you... well... take me to be your own?"

Unlike you, it doesn't take him long to give you an answer.

He scoops you up in his arms fervently, his almost black hair a lovely chesnut brown again, the wreath shining back on his head, his pointed fingers no longer clawed. "I take you to be mine own!" He screams at the top of his voice as you tremble in his arms, bewildered, when he lifts you up in the air above his head. "I SWEAR I TAKE YOU TO BE MINE OWN!"

His chant makes his flower crown glow, and so does the autumn foliage of an old aok. You can't see your own body starting to emit the same golden glow, but you feel warm and light, staring at the orange sunset sky as the fae holds you for the whole forest to see.

You don't know it accepts young fairy's claim.

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodierin @yeolliedokai @what-is-your-wish @lou-la-lou @gachawipes133 @eralen

#yandere #dark peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker #spider man #spiderman #mcu fanfiction

765 notes · View notes

p3sephone · 2 years

Text

Please, stay. (Dark! Peter Parker)

Summary: Peter thinks you are perfect for him, and when begging you is not enough, violence remains the only option.

Warnings: very delusional Peter, toxic relationship, arguing and fighting, some angst and drugging. If you do not feel comfortable with these themes please do not read, this is only +18. No minors allowed.

Note: so, these ones were requested. If you want to also request something on Marvel characters, just send me an ask and I'll do my best! Also any kind of feedback is very welcome! I love reading you. <3

Requests done:

☁️ = “Thinking of you with anyone else makes me want to throw up” for peter parker pls

Hi, can you make Peter Parker with the prompt “Please tell me what I can do for you. Please, I want to be perfect for you”

"What? Do you want me to beg you to stay? You know how crazy I am about you, but I… I won't get to that point." It hurt you to see him like that, with red dark circles and bloodshot eyes. But you've seen this drama before, over and over. In the end, everything returned as before: jealousy, oppression, possession as if you were his property. You always thought Peter Parker had a heart of gold, but he didn't get along with you.

You had therefore decided to break off after the umpteenth time you saw him stalking you. You thought he quit, you gave him so many chances. And now he wanted to make you look bad, and maybe you were, but you fucking knew how much I had to stop you from feeling guilty. Everything about him was a red flag. "Peter, I don't want you to beg me to stay, but I want you to understand why the heck I'm doing this! You sent a colleague of mine to the hospital!" you screamed in his face and expected anger to come out of your voice, not pain. A tearing pain that hit and oppressed even his chest. He grimaced, walking up to you and holding your hands tight in his, almost as if you were about to disappear at any moment. “Thinking of you with anyone else makes me want to throw up.” He said with such a disgusted face you really believed him. "Yes Peter… that's the problem. I can't be only yours, I can't see only you, I'm not something to be kept in a glass case in fear it might shatter! I'm a fucking person, Peter!" you yelled in his face, finally finding the courage you lacked for all the times you tried to make him understand that he was wrong. He pulled away from you, slowly letting go of your hands and looking at you as if you were another person. As if you were the monster. You started sobbing, immediately turning to the other side of the room in the vain hope that he wouldn't notice. He hurt you so much, he hurt you and yet leaving him hurt you even more. “Please tell me what I can do for you. Please, I want to be perfect for you." You just laughed at his prayer, finally turning to him. He was crying, he was desperate. He was on the edge like you. You slowly shook your head, looking at him. You thought you had the same aspect of him destroyed by now. "Peter, there is no future for us. We are not meant." you whispered in a broken voice, now determined to leave. It was over. You let a shaky sigh from your mouth before you took the bag you had placed on the chair, sniffling. You didn't hear any noise behind you and you seriously thought it was over. You then felt a cloth pressed hard on the lower part of your face and began to struggle. Kicking, scratching his hand, it didn't help. It was as if he didn't even have the strength of a man. You then screamed out of breath, automatically inhaling the substance on the white cloth. "Don't worry, we'll be fine together again. I'm sure we'll make it again, we'll get married, we'll- we'll have fucking kids and you won't leave me. You can't leave me."

#dark peter parker #dark peter #dark! peter parker #dark! peter #dark peter parker x reader #dark! peter parker x reader #dark avengers #dark avengers x reader #dark marvel #dark marvel x reader #yandere peter parker #yandere peter parker x reader

695 notes · View notes

magicbystarlight · 2 years

Text

Warnings: 18+, age gap, religious leader taking advantage of their position, breeding kink, minors DNI

Back on my bullshit with an idea of recently divorced mid 40s Youth Pastor!Peter Parker taking advantage of the new 22 year old Nursery Director because he’s decided she’s going to have his children. Like he acts like such a nice guy and that he just wants her to succeed but he’s been grooming her.

#dark peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #tobey!peter x reader #no i totally don’t have any religious trauma why do you ask

97 notes · View notes

barnes-n-nobles · 2 years

Note

Can you do dark! Peter (tasm) with a reader that is a friend or maybe girlfriend of peter (tom). When peter (tasm) is transported for peter (tom) universe he meets her and starts to be really protective over her and starts to desenvolved a obssesion over her.

yes ofc! this will be out today!

#dark! smut #dark marvel #dark peter parker #dark spiderman #dark peter parker x reader

19 notes · View notes

mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 month

Text

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.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere avengers #yandere marvel #yandere peter parker #dark marvel #dark peter parker #dark peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #yandere!peter parker #yandere!peter parker x reader #tw: yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw: toxic relationships

389 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 4 months

Text

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.

#peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #dark fic #peter parker imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #cop au

1K notes · View notes

thefiery-phoenix · 9 months

Text

MY SLEEPING BEAUTY (YANDERE PETER PARKER X READER)

You were such a pretty delicate cute fragile little thing in Peter's eyes. The way you chewed your lip when you were anxious or nervous was so cute to him..... you reminded him of a little cute adorable baby bunny and yes, baby boi here developed something more deeper than an innocent crush.... he had a crazed obsession for you but he'd stutter and become a blushing flustered mess while talking to you. However he won't hesitate to make a person back the HECK away from you if he thinks they're getting too close to you

Peter likes watching you drinking and admiring your beauty from far normally as well as Spiderman. He'll stalk you home under the pretense of patrol and will make sure your safe and secure at your home, sleeping cozily on your bed like a curled up kitten

Ever wondered what that sudden rush of wind was or you clearly remember shutting your window last night? Well, that's Peter for ya, or the friendly Spiderman checking if you were doing all right. He liked to watch you sleep, focusing on your soft breathing as your chest rises and falls slightly. Sometimes, he'll even come in bed and snuggle with you only to leave a few hours before you got up and yes, he'll gently kiss the top of your forehead when you nuzzle into him or cuddle back into the unknown force that's holding you

You were lovely to him and even more lovely in the night which was PRECISELY why he'd watch you sleep and visit you in the night. Oh he HAD to, your plump rosy soft lips were too addicting for him to resist you for too long

"Oh darling Y/N'' he sighed as he lay in your bed with you. "If only you knew how much I love you, what I'm going to do to you when we're together'' he chuckled slightly and caressed your cheek lovingly. "Don't worry, Spiderman will save you from your life, I know how hard it is for you sweetheart, exams and tests and studies and on top of that you're even working at that god damn coffee shop where people have the guts to ask you for your number! Don't worry darling, I'll keep you safe from all this no matter what. Leave it all to me~"

Unable to control himself, he reaches down to your neck and as you squirm slightly and sigh, he just shushes you gently and mumbles, "I'll kiss you and take such good care of you. Isn't that what you want my love?"

He peppered your face with light kisses, worshipping you. He lay in bed for some more time with you and then as he glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, he curses that it was time for him to get going and places a gentle kiss to your lips and says, "Don't worry my sleeping beauty, we'll be together soon. The thought of kissing you and having you is too addicting~" and strokes your cheek lovingly with his thumb

"Sweet dreams my cute little sleeping beauty, I'll be back for you and then we can live a happy life together~"

#yandere peter parker #yandere peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker imagines #yandere peter parker oneshots #yandere peter parker scenarios #yandere peter parker headcanons #dark peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #yandere avengers scenarios #yandere avengers x reader #yandere avengers #yandere mcu #yandere mcu x reader #yandere marvel characters x reader #yandere marvel characters #yandere marvel x reader #yandere marvel

294 notes · View notes

spider-stark · 19 days

Text

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange.

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown.

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter.

Or, at least, none that mattered.

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do.

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play.

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift.

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether.

And Peter never even asked why.

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?”

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.”

And how true that must have been.

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too.

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night?

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.”

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?!

“Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?”

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.”

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter.

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.”

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.”

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter.

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.”

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used.

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar.

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite.

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now.

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?”

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.”

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too.

“Did he?”

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.”

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's.

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him.

“Well did he have anything useful?”

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter.

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups.

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0.

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration.

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear.

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?”

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation.

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.”

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite.

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?”

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.”

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?”

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch.

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?”

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him.

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.”

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.”

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.”

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth.

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.”

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?”

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?”

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.”

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now!

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-”

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!”

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.”

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded.

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere.

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now.

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down…

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.”

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell.

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered.

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night?

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.”

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips.

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world.

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all.

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone.

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting.

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway.

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!”

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!”

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else.

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?”

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?”

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.”

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse.

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully.

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter.

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!”

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.”

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?”

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task.

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway.

“Mj happened.”

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.”

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.”

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease.

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth.

You sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.”

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours.

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth.

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?”

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance.

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.”

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-”

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.”

“I’m not pretending-”

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.”

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.”

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest.

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.”

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?”

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

496 notes · View notes

yanderestarangel · 29 days

Note

Okay, so I was thinking about yandere Peter B and Miguel O’Hara with FTM reader. Both men obsessed and possessive with them ever since they joined the society.

And they both share them. Kinks could be breeding, size difference, degradation, praising kink? Miguel could be a hard dom and Peter a soft dom. You could add more if ya like.

Your writing is absolutely amazing!

🕸️🕷️ 》 OUR LITTLE SPIDER || PETER B. PARKER AND MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER ||

A/N: I made it in headcanon format because I was too lazy to make a one shot, but I hope you like it.

THIS WAS A LITTLE TOO LONG SORRY--- ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

TW: age gap, smut, yandere content, dark romance, daddykink, praise!kink, size!kink, possession, manipulation, ftm reader, betrayal, breed!kink, v!sex, anal!sex, overstimulation, kidnapping, blackmail, murder, aphrodisiac use, dub con, threesome, creampie.

Being in the spidersociety was a big responsibility role for you, but you accepted it anyway, after all you had the sense of hero that each spider variant had. You didn't expect so much attention or flattery for you but that's what you received from two specific people ─ Miguel O'Hara, your boss and Peter B. Parker, the most peaceful and sweet spider man you met in Spider society. You swore you saw hearts form in the two older men's orbs simultaneously.

You quickly saw things escalate to a strange level. Miguel was very protective of you, even putting you on "easier" missions like staying at the spider society headquarters and giving him boring reports.

"You're safe here. Being a spider-man isn't just about battling villains, it's about learning responsibility. You're still a little spider, carinõ." the Mexican would speak as he gave you more papers to fill out. While on the other hand, Peter agreed with everything the leader said, complementing even more.

"Miguel is right, baby boy. You still have a lot to learn." The older man gestured excitedly and you accepted, defeated and sighing.

O'Hara watched everything with a chill passing through him, he tried not to let his thoughts speak loudly but he knew that Peter was also interested in you, just like the Mexican was.

"You shouldn't be so close to him, Peter. Your wife will be jealous." O'Hara hissed the words like venom coming out of his fangs, while the other spider-man just smiled relaxedly and looked at the younger man.

"You want to compete for him? Is that it Miguelito? You liked him too, didn't you? We can share." Peter spoke as he saw you oblivious to the dark conversation you were both having.

The proposal for a share was denied in the first instance, but every day it seemed more tempting for the spider leader, for several reasons. The main one was that you were getting closer to other spider variants and Peter, being more social, was keeping up with your pace ── at the same time that you realized that some spider variants no longer wanted to talk to you, if that variant presented romantic interest in you, they disappeared and came back with deep bruises, diverting topics with you and leading you to turn to Peter.

Little did you know that the nice family man was the cause of that. He was sick for you, to the point of abandoning his purposes and character ── you and his daughter were the only things that mattered to him at that moment, he told himself that he still loved Mary Jane... But he also loved you.

Peter was getting rid of another spider variant using threats and pure blackmail to do so, but the poor victim that time had no chance after Miguel appeared and took out his fury on them. The tall man sloppily wiped the blood off his hands as he turned to Peter.

"Okay... I accept your proposal, let's share the ninõ." O'Hara spoke in a calm, cold and insane tone, while he saw Parker smile and nod his head ── after this previous peace agreement between them, it was his life's turn to become a sweet hell.

You had no one else inside or outside the spider society, Peter and Miguel were the only ones who spoke to you. (Peter's threat + Miguel's tyrannical power with the other spider variants in secret was the reason for his involuntary isolation.)

In addition to the fact that the Mexican used his entire database to find out about your family, friends and possible love interests outside the society he had control over ── some were bought with money, others were threatened and others... They were found in alleys and became news on TV channels.

Everything was falling apart in your life, even your college grades and your mental state and all you had left was the comfort of the two older men... Exactly as you both planned.

You ran into their arms while crying and venting ── an Oscar award was supposed to be presented to the duo, both of them pretended shock and indignation while you told them every detail. So when you were weakened enough, they acted, bringing you into their possession, protecting you from the cruel world that was made worse in their minds.

Compliments, gifts, words of positive affirmations and everything sweet and warm in the world they gave you. Miguel was more desperate for touch, placing you on his lap while he worked on the panels of the multiverse or giving you small, intimate but not vulgar kisses, something that asserted a silent and slow dominance ── away from curious eyes, after all he was still the leader of that society.

Peter on the other hand would give you more affection in public, you and him would even go for a walk together with mayday as a family, away from Mary Jane's eyes. He would also lie to you saying that he and his wife were separated and even show the old divorce paper to prove something to you... You were trapped in a spider web of lies and dirty manipulations.

And when you realized, you were in a relationship with both men ── they asked you if it was okay for you to deal with both of them at the same time, which you denied, too drunk with pleasure to think about anything more than both filling you to the brim (an effect that was also the fault of the aphrodisiac Miguel had put in your drink that day.)

Peter's hands took off your spider uniform while O'Hara's thick hands went towards your wetness, playing roughly with your clit "mi hermoso" the spider leader growled in your ear as one of his thick fingers entered inside you, making you moan ─ at the same time that Peter sucked your nipples and gently squeezed your breasts, his experienced hands were working magic on your body. Raw kisses were left by the older man on your abdomen, as Parker knelt and licked your clit, helping O'Hara prepare you even more for what was to come.

"You're already dripping for us, aren't you? Such a good little slut." The tanned man teased as he stuck a second finger in your cunt, stretching you in scissor movements, back and forth. Peter got out on his knees as he captured your lips lightly moaning huskily against your flesh: "Such a beautiful and good boy for us... You make your daddies proud like that little spider." He said as Miguel pressed his hard, pulsing erection against your ass, making you moan loudly against the other man's lips.

The two bodies fit perfectly inside you, practically crushing you with their heat as you tried not to cum on O'Hara's fingers, but the effort was in vain as you felt him easily reach your cervix. You felt one of Peter's fingers soon find your other hole, making you moan even more against his lips.

"That's it, my spider boy. Show us how much you want it." The voices mixed together as you felt like you were going to explode at any moment and it actually happened ── you came, squirting onto Miguel's forearm and dripping onto the floor as all your muscles contracted involuntarily.

"I knew it was going to be a fucking squirt." The spider leader said, laughing, as you left for the next step ── you just left yourself there, your body for the two of them to use as they wanted, you just wanted to feel good and they would guarantee that.

With careful coordination and chemistry between the three of you, you found yourself sitting on Peter's lap, your back pressed against his chest as he guided his cock to your tight hole. Meanwhile, Miguel positioned himself at your front, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly entered your dripping pussy. "Te ves tan hermoso."

Peter couldn't help but let out a groan of satisfaction as he finally buried his cock deep inside your tight ass, the feeling of being completely enveloped by your warmth and tightness was overwhelming for him, he had to fight against the urge to just thrust into you with abandon. Instead, he took deep breaths to steady himself, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, you feel incredible, baby boy. So tight and eager for me... You wanted that, didn't you? Being filled by two dicks, a greedy, needy boy..."

Miguel's primal instincts took over as he felt the tightness of your pussy around his cock, the blissful sensation causing a guttural moan to escape his lips. "I'm going to breed in that beautiful pussy of yours, boy... You're going to be our breed whore... We're going to always leave you full of cum, in that beautiful hole of yours." Miguel's hips moved in sync with Peter's, his thrusts gaining speed and force as he aimed to push you over the edge. "So beautiful and obedient, If you continue like this, being a good boy will be rewarded ok?.." the older man moaned as you felt Peter and Miguel's cocks stretch you to the edge, letting you drool on both of their cocks like an animal in heat. Just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as you moaned their names. Parker and O'Hara continued their relentless thrusts, prolonging your orgasm and riding the waves of your ecstasy, but they hadn't stopped yet. Peter's thrusts grew more frantic as he felt your body convulse under him, the pleasure building within him as well. He knew that his release wasn't far behind.

"You're so damn tight, baby. Fuck, I'm gonna come--" His voice was filled with a mix of pleasure and urgency as he increased the pace of his thrusts. O'Hara felt his own release drawing near, your tight pussy milking his cock with each powerful thrust. His grip on your hips tightened as he neared his own climax. "Holy shit little boy, you're really going to get pregnant with us, aren't you?" As both men reached their climaxes, they filled you with their seed. Peter's hot cum filled your tight ass, while Miguel's release spilled into your pussy, marking you as theirs. Their bodies shuddered as they reached their peaks, their gazes locked on yours. Nothing needed to be phallus, not when both of your eyes reflected their red, sickly hearts, surrounded by possession and pleasure for you.

435 notes · View notes

giorno-plays-piano · 10 months

Text

We're In This Together

Pairing: monster!Peter Parker x monster!reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Peter, allusion to non-con, gore, child abuse, a bit of body horror (nothing descriptive), death of minor characters, smut, hurt/comfort.

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Peter wasn't like you, he had said. He wasn't a demon, really, but he made a deal with one, promised his life in exchange for this power. He hadn't had a good life, he said, hemming as if it was something to laugh about, so he had wanted to change it. When he needed it most, a man showed up in front of him, a strange man with strange limbs growing from the wrong parts of his body. The man had killed someone Peter hated for him and asked if Peter wanted to be strong, and Peter said yes. And then he could grow any limbs he wanted himself.

________

"Don't you think it's strange they still have no idea what's happening?" You wondered, wiping your shoe on a garbage bin, behind you a bloody mess of flesh and bones that was a lesser demon just a few minutes ago. "It's been almost a week."

The guy snorted, getting on one knee to rummage through dead demon's clothes and swiftly pulling out a fat leather wallet out of a pocket of his coat. It was conveniently full of cash, you saw when your partner in crime opened it and took out the money, pocketing them before you had a chance to say something.

"What?" He asked, squinting at you wearing a confused expression. "Too morally dubious to steal money from a demon who murdered hell knows how many people? Don't try to make me feel bad about it."

Well, maybe it was sketchy, but now it didn't sound too bad. In the end, you got nothing for cleaning the city from these creatures, not even a kind word since people conveniently didn't see demons until the creatures pounced on them. You could hardly blame Peter for wanting to benefit from this bloodbath at least somehow.

"We could go shopping," he smirked as he observed his own bloodied sweatpants that were beyond salvation. "I'd buy you some pretty stuff you like."

Yeah, maybe it didn't sound too bad. You wouldn't mind a change of clothes, especially since you had nothing but top and worn-out jeans.

It had started with you waking up in the middle of the night in a place you couldn't recognize, surrounded by dead bodies and blood. The sky had been bright red, and you remembered the distinctive smell of gas as if something had exploded nearby. You had lost consciousness before you could understand what had been happening around you.

The next morning, you had woken up in a place you hadn't recognized either, but a very different place, nonetheless. There had been no fire, no bodies, no blood. You had been laying on the top of a building, a high school, as you found out later. How did you end up there? Who had carried you to the rooftop? Why? And, most importantly, who were you?

It wasn't like you remembered nothing about who you were. You had a good idea about how your house looked, what you liked and disliked, what sorts of courses you took in uni, and that you had a job back home... but when you thought about the faces of your parents, they were blank. You couldn't remember the name of your hometown, either. The circumstances of your arrival here... or what had happened that night when you woke up with dead people all around you remained shrouded in mystery. One thing you knew for sure: you weren't entirely human.

And neither was Peter. You found him on the first or second day of your awakening: everything was blurry, your mind hazy, and you couldn't really recall what you were doing after you had woken up on the roof of a high school. You did, however, distinctly remember him fighting a hellish-looking creature, all exposed flesh and bones, in a back alley somewhere at the outskirts of the city. Not that Peter didn't look like a demon himself with his arms changing form, stretching, razor-sharp teeth growing right through his skin, multiple mouths biting off chunks of flesh from the creature.

But Peter was human, and the creature was not. And when the creature had stabbed him in the chest, you suddenly felt like it was wrong for Peter to die and that it was very sad to see him on the ground, bleeding so much. He was young, and he fought the demon because he felt it was wrong to let it roam free, to let him stuff its belly with other humans who'd be helpless against it. Peter had done a good thing, and the world would be poorer without him, you thought and crushed the creature with a giant arm coming out of your back, ripping through your jacket. You remembered the squelching sound the creature's body made under your massive palm when you squished it like a bug.

Despite you being sure you were human, apparently, you were not. Or not entirely, at least.

Putting back a piece of flesh in Peter's chest wasn't easy, but you had done it like you knew exactly what needed to be done, and it grew back in very nicely, and the boy no longer bled. He opened his eyes and stared at you for a long, long time.

You remembered asking him to lead the way to his home - although you couldn't recall what exactly triggered you to go there - and him bringing you to a stuffy apartment somewhere at the edge of the city. Then, you supposed, you either fainted or went to sleep. By the time you woke up, the boy was at your side, waiting impatiently when you'd come around.

Peter wasn't like you, he had said. He wasn't a demon, really, but he made a deal with one, promised his life in exchange for this power. He hadn't had a good life, he said, hemming as if it was something to laugh about, so he had wanted to change it. When he needed it most, a man had shown up in front of him, a strange man with strange limbs growing from the wrong parts of his body. The man had killed someone Peter hated for him and asked if Peter wanted to be strong, and Peter said yes. And then he could grow any limbs he wanted himself.

He wasn't some fighter for justice, he said. He didn't get power to protect humanity against demons. There hadn't been any demons in the city that time to begin with, just his teacher, the man with strange limbs. He had fun with his new power, he said. But then the elder gods had showed up and wrecked chaos, and his teacher was killed. Then the lesser demons had appeared, and while he saw some that were harmless, others were eager for human flesh, and it was making him sick. So, he had killed a couple. And the last one killed him. And then you came and brought him back.

He wasn't a very gentle man, you saw. He was intentionally rough and swore all the time and acted like he couldn't care if the world went down tomorrow, but when you asked him for water, he brought you a glass, and when you said you were hungry, he made you a sandwich. And when you went on a demon hunt next night, he shielded you from a monster aiming at your back.

Peter was an ally. A friend.

"This would look good on you," the guy snorted, handing you a short leather skirt and motioning to the fitting rooms. "I'll come back after you're done."

You had a whole heap of clothes in your hands. Nodding to him, you went into one of numerous cabins, carefully putting hangers on a rack before you took out a skirt and started changing.

You weren't wearing clothes like that before. Now you liked leather, vinyl, low-cut crop tops, and studded jackets. Why? Was it because it no longer mattered what other people would think? Because nothing really mattered after these grotesque monsters appeared, and you didn't know if you'd live tomorrow? Or was it because that's what Peter liked, and you unconsciously decided to please him?

Peter asked you who you were and how you had saved him, but there wasn't much to tell. You didn't remember making a deal with demons, and you weren't demon-born either. You didn't think so, at least. You had human parents, human life, and until that night, there was nothing wrong with your body, no powers to speak of. What if you weren't human then, Peter had asked. What if those weren't your memories?

You'd be very sad if they weren't yours, you had told him.

But even if they belonged to you, you didn't harry to get back the life you had. You couldn't even tell how you had ended up in this city, surely far away from home. All you could say was that it wasn't important, your life back then. The elder gods and demons, they were the cause of your worry now. Maybe you couldn't remember anything because you were destined to stop them or something like that. And so that nothing could distract you from your mission, some memories of yours were taken away.

Sounds poetic, the guy said mockingly, but you could see he wasn't sure himself. Somehow, you ended up killing the creature he had fought but saved him, nonetheless, even if that night they both looked like demons. You had distinguished right from wrong, knowing nothing about him.

You were glad he was alive, you had told Peter. You liked him.

His face turned fiery red, and he grumbled something inarticulate to you. You could feel he liked you, too. He liked you since that night when he had woken up to you wiping blood off his chest.

"For you," he said when you left the cabin with a top and that leather skirt he gave you. He was handing you a small paper bag with a nice pink pattern on it. "They'd look cool on you."

Earrings. Nice, pretty silver earrings, shining under the bright light of a fitting room.

"I'll put them on," the guy took the box out of hands and pulled them out, then fumbled with the clasp. You felt his hands trembling just a little when he carefully put them in your ears.

You vaguely remembered it was supposed to be a necklace a man should help a woman to put on, not earrings, but you didn't correct Peter. His touch was warm, human.

"Good," he murmed, avoiding looking at you, his face turning red again despite his best efforts to look indifferent, and marched to the cashier with your clothes in hand. "I'll pay."

He was a good boy. Before the demon had come and made him the way he was, he was a tender creature, soft and caring, with kind hands and a good heart. But people hadn't treated him right, and he couldn't stop them from hurting him. Years had been going by, but people still weren't kind to him, and so he was no longer kind either.

Sometimes, you wondered if he murdered his parents like he murdered the classmates who had abused him. You knew his father had been hitting him, sensed it when you touched him and he shriveled back on impulse before he realized, when you heard him thinking - god knows how, really - and you weren't sure if it was bad he killed him. Murdering people wasn't a good thing, surely, but his father was beating him, and maybe it was alright Peter got rid of him.

It would've been fair.

___________________

It was already evening by the time you got home.

"I'm itching," you blurted out as soon as you took off your shoes, and Peter sent you a sly smile. He knew what it meant.

He had gotten this strange itch too shortly after he made a deal with demon. It happened because it was hard for a human body to contain raw monster power, he said. You needed more energy. But what sort of energy? Did it mean you needed to sleep or eat more? No, he said. He had kindly offered to show you.

At first, you suspected him tricking you - Peter was hungry, and he would take anything there was to take - but sex with him felt good, nonetheless. He was possessive, dominating, and sometimes it felt like he was having some sort of revenge - not against you, against women in general. Women who hadn't wanted him before he became a half-demon, before his feeble body grew in size, his powers developed, and he stopped being a loser he had been. But then he looked into your face after you kissed him, and something changed in his expression. He hugged you tight like you were about to dissappear, fucking you into his bed, and you felt his desperation, his desire for warmth, for company. He needed you so much more than he showed.

It hadn't been painful. A little rough, perhaps, with a pleasant sort of pain following, but never really painful. Surprisingly, after a little help, Peter turned out to be a considerate lover.

And the itch really stopped.

Later at night, when you two lied in bed, wrinkled blankets cast aside as you put your head right beneath Peter's arm, your breath warming his side as you absent-mindedly put your palm on his chest, you asked him, "Could you put on TV?"

He visibly stiffened, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why? What do you expect to see there?"

You smiled dreamily, letting out a breath, and kissed him just beneath his rib, earning an unexpected grunt from the boy.

"I think I used to fall asleep with a TV on." You murmured, staring at an old TV set standing against the wall with peeling discolorated wallpaper before you furrowed your brows. "I think I did."

You felt Peter relax against you, grubbing a black remote control with dust covering its buttons somewhere from the side table and pushing one of them, the TV proptly showing you a neat woman in a costume with her hair up, clearly a news reporter.

"Why do you want to know who you were before all this?" He hemmed, head inching towards yours as he threw his hand around your shoulder. "Why care? You're not the girl you were. Don't you feel better now? More powerful?"

"I do," you nodded. "It's nice... and strange. But it doesn't mean I'm no longer who I used to be. Don't most people want to be themselves, anyway?"

He clamped his jaw. "I don't want to be myself."

The woman's monotonous voice was trying to slowly lull you into sleep, but the rising heat of Peter's body was making you concerned. He was agitated. Although he didn't speak much, now it felt like he needed to tell you - or anyone at all, perhaps - something that he had been keeping to himself for far too long.

Leaving a gentle kiss on his skin, you asked, "Why?"

He let out a gruff laugh, rubbing his eyebrows furiously as if he wanted to scrub them off his face.

"Because I was a stupid whipping boy. Everyone around used me as a punching bag, and I couldn't do anything," he said, angry, clenching his fists. "What a fucking failure I was."

You kept quiet as he continued, laughing, "Guys beat me at school, and dad beat me at home. And my mom just watched because it was better he beat me than her, y'know?

"And I couldn't do anything. I tried telling some random police officer, but they just filled their papers at the station, talked to my dad, and left. He hit me so hard that day I still have a scar somewhere at the back of my head."

The boy gulped down, staring at the ceiling as you listened to his rapid heartbeat in the darkness of the room lit only by the old TV.

"I could never get rid of them all, so I just settled on being miserable for as long as I'd last, which wasn't even long, by the way. When Teacher found me, I was standing on the city bridge, debating if I was brave enough to jump. I don't think I'd jump, though. I've always been a coward. And if Teacher didn't help me then, I'd still be a coward now, and my dad would continue beating the shit out of me for it.

"You don't know what it felt like to be liberated from all of it. From HIM. From my mother. From those guys at school, though it was Teacher who murdered them. I was so happy... I didn’t know someone could be happy like that. Be free. Do anything I want, take anything I want because I can. I could have any girl I wanted, any car, any house, as much money as I could imagine because I could rip someone's heart from their chest if they refused, and it wouldn't even make me sweat."

He sounded both happy and anxious, covering his face with his arm, dragging it against his sweaty forehead as he laughed, but you could hear a chocked sob somewhere in between, too.

"I don't want to be who I am. Who I was. I want to be this cool, mad guy with many limbs and jaws who scares the shit out of people and never have to be beaten again. And I'd never have you if I was that wimp too, would I?" Finally, he turned his red face back to you, and you saw tears glistening in the corners of his eyes as he tried to hold them in. "You wouldn't even have a second look at me. Girls like you never did. You'd stroll by, laugh at my pimpled face, and continue on your way."

You heard resentment in his voice, the same with which he spoke to you sometimes when you had sex as if he was taking revenge against you, against all pretty women who'd never let him touch them before he became a monster.

His tears dried quickly.

"And that creature you saw me fighting would just chomp me down in a second. It fucking hurt me... but I killed several of them before. And we kill all of them together now. I'd sell my soul three times over to have this, to be who I am now." His gaze suddenly shifted to you when you didn't look, your eyes on his chest. "To take you because I can."

When you raised your eyes to his face, you saw him staring at you intently like a predator before it pounced on you with its claws outstretched, as if he wanted to hurt you for not wanting him, that other small, weak boy he had been who'd never have a chance to have you.

Your hand brushed against his short, dense hair before you ran your fingers through it, looking him into the eyes, not smiling. You couldn't reassure him you'd take him even when he had been small, and hurt, and miserable.

"I don't know what you were like before," you started in a small voice, your palm resting on the side of his face. "I don't know if I'd love you the same I do now. And I'm sorry I wasn't there to kill all these people for you because, I think, I'd really like to if I met you earlier."

You saw him partying his lips as if he wanted to say something, but before he had a chance to, you gave him a small smile and stroked his cheek with your warm hand. "But this world would be poorer without you, and I'd be too."

Some tears finally escaped from his eyes despite his earnest attempt to hold them in, and then Peter shifted and buried his face in the crook of your neck, sobbing.

_______

#yandere #dark peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker #spider man #spiderman

183 notes · View notes