#mcu peter parker fic

[barnesafterglow]

first burn

summary: your crush on peter may burn you alive

pairing: mcu!peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: not canon compliant (no snap, everyone is happy and healthy and no one did anything stupid), peter is of age and well within his rights to fuck!!, a little tropey for a second (brief "fake dating" and "only one bed" to move the story along), smut [unprotected sex, pull out method oral (f receiving), just some sweet love making dude], listen i'm here for a good time not a long time

a/n: two fics in a year?? who is she

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

Peter Parker was going to be the death of you.

With each grunt that echoed through the gym in Avengers Tower, your eyes flicked to his sweaty form. The goddamned death of you.

You tried to backtrack, to see when these feelings first started as a small burning in the back of your mind that had turned into a raging wildfire every time you were in his presence. It had to have been the mission in London.

It was normal - or as normal as any Avengers mission could be. 

You had just stumbled through the throes of midtown London, hand in hand with your boyfriend, looking with every bit of wonder like neither of you had ever seen the delights it had to offer.

Then, as soon as you stepped through the hotel door, Peter dropped your hand as if it had burned him the whole time. 

Maybe it started then, with that glimmer of disappointment. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend and he would never take the time to take you around tourist London like he had just done. 

And then that pit in your stomach grew as the door to your room opened: only one bed. Jesus Christ, Tony. 

“I know,” came the response from beside you; you must have spoken out loud. “It’ll be fine.”

Those were the last words he spoke for a long while, as you both got ready for bed, then slid in beside each other. The tension was palpable, and you didn’t know if it was your slowly mounting feelings or the clench of his discomfort, but regardless you slept fitfully for hours until you finally stumbled into a deep sleep.

You woke up to a strong pair of arms wrapped around your middle - somehow pressed there in the dark of the night - and the world spun around you as you shot up.

Peter was alert in seconds, standing by the bed assessing for a threat, when his eyes met yours - utterly confused and you had no real answer for him.

“Bad dream,” you mumbled as you headed to the bathroom, the door clicking with a sort of finality behind you.

And it was fine, really it was. You definitely didn’t think about the way press of his body against yours and how sexy his bed head had looked. Nope. Not at all. 

And you definitely didn’t imagine what he would have looked like if you were the one who made him sweaty and flushed like he was right now.

Snapping out of your borderline impure thoughts, you stood from your spot on the ground where you had been warming up and - before your mouth said something you could regret - you walked out of the gym.

With your back turned, you missed the way Peter’s eyes followed you the whole way.

-

Saturday nights were girl’s nights, as Wanda so boldly claimed. And girl’s night came with a lot of complaining.

Throwing the shot back, you groaned, not even wanting to voice your thoughts aloud.

“I shouldn’t even think about it,” you said. “He’s practically a kid.”

“Not to impede on your self-loathing, but he’s not a kid anymore babe,” was Natasha’s response. She nodded across the bar where Peter was sipping his beer, laughing at something Sam had said. Right, he was 22 and totally within your age range, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still see him as the 16 year old kid who had fought by Tony’s side. “Plus you’re not that much older than him. We used to call you a kid too, you know.”

Dragging your hand down your face, you stood from the table to order another drink, ignoring Nat and Wanda’s laughter at your misery.

As you leaned against the bar waiting, Peter dropped down into the stool beside you.

“Alright, what did I do to you?” His words were casual, joking, but you could hear the hurt laced within. That was never your intention, and your heart sank.

You and Peter had been friends for a long time, since Tony had first brought him in after the air had cleared with him and Cap. You bonded over being the youngest Avengers and what that meant for your lives. The two of you understood each other on another level that no one else truly did. And here you were, ruining everything over a little crush.

“Nothing, Pete.” You ruffled your hand through his hair and his face lit up in a blush that he tried to hide behind his beer bottle. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad, I guess,” he replied, then looked down at you - when had he gotten so tall - with an unreadable emotion on his face. “I miss you.”

Right. And you were back where you started. Admittedly, you had avoided him for the most part since that London mission, only saying hi in passing and at the occasional movie night or debrief. You weren’t exactly proud of it, but you didn’t know what else to do.

“I miss you too,” you whispered, shame coating your words. You never meant to hurt him - honestly, you didn’t. “Listen, kid, I just-“

“Don’t call me kid.” And the anger in his words surprised you. “I’m not that kid you met six years ago - when you were barely any older, might I remind you - and you know that. I know you know that. So don’t use that as an excuse to stop whatever is going on here.” His hands gestured between the two of you. 

Strong, capable hands that you had seen hurt and save, had seen run through his hair, had seen play video games. Hands that you had imagined for weeks now. Hands that you couldn’t help but grab out of mid air, clasping one in your own. 

“And what’s going on here, Peter?”

He leaned in close, breath hot on your ear. 

“I see the way you look at me.” Your breath hitched, then stopped altogether. “But I don’t think you see me looking right back.”

Body all of a sudden hot and raging with emotion, you squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. 

“Take me home.”

-

Your apartment was closer, so you walked the handful of blocks from the bar in tangible silence. Every brush of fingers was an electric jolt through your body and every bump of shoulders sent heat through your core. By the time you reached your front door, the tension was pulled so tight it was bound to snap at any moment.

And snap it did.

As soon as you had the apartment door closed behind you, Peter was on you, his hands everywhere all at once. He crowded you, pulling you close to him when you winced at the door knob digging into your side. One hand came to rest on your hip, rubbing soothing circles there, while the other cradled your face, eyes searching for permission.

You didn’t know what you were giving him permission for, but you nodded anyway.

The world around you stopped as Peter placed a searing kiss to your lips, stealing the breath from your lungs. The hand on your face moved to gently tug your hair and he took your gasp as an invitation to explore your mouth. God the boy knew how to kiss.

His tongue pressed into you, tasting every inch while your hands roamed his body. When he pulled away - not for air, not to leave you, but to place hot kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of burning fire in their wake - you tugged on his t-shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before. Between missions and training and plain old gym sessions, you were thankfully no stranger to a shirtless Peter Parker. But in the dim light of your living room, with those brown eyes boring into your own, everything was suddenly different.

You just stared - for far longer than necessary, you were sure - until he took a step back towards you, his fingers intertwining with your own. Nodding at him, you started to lead him towards your bedroom, not making it more than two steps until his hands were once again exploring your body.

When you finally made it - a trail of both of your clothes left in your wake - your breaths were heavy and panting, aching for more of him.

He stood there for a moment just looking at you, taking in the red lace of your bra and underwear. Unable to contain himself, he ripped it off of you in two quick pulls, leaving you bare before him.

You expected him to jump on you the second you were naked. Instead he pressed his front against your own - you gasped at the contact of your nipples against his bare chest - and lightly traced shapes over your exposed back, moving down to trail along your legs, then back up your arms. Everywhere he touched burned the memory into your skin.

Finally, finally, he gently pushed you against your bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft bounce, and he peeled off his jeans and underwear before manhandling you towards the center, moving your body as if you weighed nothing.

You truly didn’t need any foreplay, the tension on your own end built up these last few weeks on top of Peter’s heated discovery of your body made for an easy transition, but he wasn’t about to let that happen.

No, Peter Parker was a fucking tease.

He started by kneading the soft skin of your breasts, touch light and gentle as if you were something precious. Even when he leaned down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, he still only gave you quick nips, nothing as satisfying as you needed. He made his way down your body, placing lover’s kisses everywhere he could reach, before finally settling down on his stomach between your legs.

You thought that this was surely the moment you would get some reprieve, some kind of real touch that may or may not send you over the edge, but no. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He kissed the inside of each thigh, alternating until he was breathing right where you needed him most. When you thought you were about to explode, he finally lowered his mouth to your core.

The feeling after so long of teasing was euphoric, and you swear if you were a weaker woman you could have come from the first swipe of his tongue against your clit. You held out as his tongue made its way in circles and figure eights, then he pressed a finger against your entrance, eyes looking up through dark lashes to silently ask permission.

Once you had given it, he sank a finger into you, pumping it a few times before adding another. With that, both his hand and mouth picked up speed until you were grinding on his face, chasing your orgasm.

You were on the edge, ready to jump off, when he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact and tried to sit up, but one large hand pushed you back against the bed, the other starting its assault all over again.

This time, he didn’t stop until you were coming all over his face, and you think you blacked out for a second because the next thing you knew he was over top of you, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before kissing you, driving his tongue in and swallowing down your moans.

He ground his hips against you, his cock sliding easily through your folds, and you both whined as his tip caught at your entrance. He continued his movements, getting closer and closer to fucking you with every pass, but never quite committing.

Sick of his teasing, you pushed hard on his shoulders and, in his surprise, were able to flip him so he was on his back.

“Stop teasing, Peter,” you whispered in his ear as you straddled his waist. “I need you.”

You pulled back, eyes searching his, before he nodded and wrapped his hands around your hips. Taking that as permission, you grabbed his cock, lining it up and slowly sliding down.

He was big, much bigger than you had anticipated, and you had to take your time before he was fully seated inside you. Once your hips were flush together, you took a breath, practically feeling him in your throat. 

He looked up at you - almost adoringly - as you adjusted to him. You leaned down, pressing your chest against his, and kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of emotion you possibly could into it before starting to move your hips. Now more adjusted, the burn of the stretch turned into a pleasure that had you melting against him and hands guided your hips to move you along his length.

For long minutes you let him move you as he wanted, content to hang on for the ride. You didn’t expect for Peter to flip you over and start pounding into you.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as he settled your legs over your shoulders. “So fucking deep.”

All you could do is hold onto him as he fucked you, alternating between hard thrusts and slow grinds until you were dizzy with pleasure, chasing an orgasm that wasn’t going to come unless Peter damn well wanted it to.

And when he did, when he reached down and rubbed harsh circles into your clit, you exploded around him. The clench of your heat around his cock spurred his own orgasm, and he pulled out at the last second, his come coating your stomach and tits.

That on is own was hot enough, but Peter fucking Parker did not come to play. He swiped two fingers through his own release before pressing them to your mouth. You opened up for him, cleaning off his fingers as he groaned, and you could see his cock give an interested twitch, like it was already trying to go for round two.

The weight of his body disappeared from yours and you whined, reaching out for him even with your eyes closed. He quickly returned with a warm rag and cleaned you up before maneuvering you both under the covers. 

Regaining a semblance of strength, you turned so that you were facing him, suddenly very aware of each of your nakedness.

“What now?” Your voice was hoarse-sounding, it’s only use in the last bit from moans and gasps.

“Well,” he started, once again tracing shapes along your bare skin, “I think we maybe skipped a step in the middle of all this.”

“What do you mean?” If he was going to say what you thought he might, your heart would implode.

“I mean, I’ve liked you for a really long time, longer than I’m going to admit, and I took this chance because I didn’t know if I would ever get it again. But if I’m right - and I think I am - then you feel the same way I do. So, I want to take you on a proper date. I want to make this work.”

His confession made your heart stutter-step and you couldn’t even find the words to tell him yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Instead, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, hoping every emotion he had just poured out to you was matched in the press of your lips against his.

“I’m taking that as a yes, then.”

“Yeah, Pete, it is.”

[astxroiid]

could I possibly get Sagittarius with peter Parker (mcu if possible!) thank youuu :)))

thank you thank you thank you for asking this 💋

'kinks/fetishes'

while mainly inexperienced, Peter Parker knows somewhat about the things he's into. (most of the time you end up showing him the things he likes). he's known for the longest time that someone telling him what to do and having power over him is the biggest turn on. His earliest memory of porn-watching was a video about a man being tied down on a bed while a woman denied him his orgasm like ten times.

peter remembers cuming the hardest when you've edged him for hours, whispering how pathetic he looks like that.

while he loves to be degraded and told how pathetic he looks and how needy he is, he can't help the way his body reacts when you praise him as well. Truly, he just wants to be your good boy. The times where he'll cum inside you, whimpering, panting, and shaking and you call him your good boy usually have him straining in his pants when he's daydreaming.

orgasm denial is definitely a big one for him. But so is overstimulation. When you have him finishing multiple times a day, cock sensitive and body convulsing.

in conclusion; peter parker is submissive through and through.

kinks/fetishes: complete submission, orgasm denial, praise, degradation, overstimulation, edging, good boy, mommy kink, rope bunny, masochisim, wax play, bondage, slight voyerism.

again, thanks so much! requests from my 600 q&a are open until feb. 1 !

q&a page ✷ m.list ✷ navigation

[whosmarii]

Said you needed love.

ᯤ Started: 25/01/24.

ᯤ Finished:

Summary:

Tony loves his wife, Pepper. He loves his last daughter, Morgan. And he loves Peter like the son he never had. But you? his first born daughter, he doesn't even know your name.

tw: daddy issues (everything that this entail), no corrections yet.

*reader is fem. slow burn. Peter x reader. Kinda rivals to lovers.

Prologue.

You are a genius, you got that from him. You study from home, a teacher for each subject meticulousy selected by Tony to give you the best clases of the country. Not because he cares for you, but because you have to reach the expectations of the people. Imagine, the daughter of Tony Stark, aka Iron man, being an ordinary person.

You didn't need all the teachers, you were a genius because it was in your genes. That wasn't enought to meet your father expectations tho.

You did everything in your power to get a proud look (or at least a look) from your dad. You have the best grades, you learned two different languages in a time lapse of two months, you read five books of classic literature in three days, you knew how to play seven different instrument plus you knew how to sing, you were a professional ballet dancer, you knew aeronautical and chemical engineering, and the list could go on and on.

Nothing seems to satisfy him.

Sometimes, because Pepper have told him to or because he couldn't escape the situation, he would mumble a "congrats" or "yeah, good" while he kept working on whatever he was working. Not even looking at your direction.

You loved Morgan, she was probably the only person in your house that actually cared for you. And you were happy she didn't have to live the same horrible situation you did. But you couln't help the self-sabotaging feeling of jealousy that warmed you heart every time they were together. You didn't understand. What does she have that i dont? why can't i be enough like she is?

Pepper loves you, she tells you that recurrently. But she never did anything to get Tony to be a proper dad. It isn't her responsability but, she is your mother. She sees you suffer because of him and does nothing.

You live in a house with two adults and a five year old little girl, and the only person that treats you pretty...is the five year old. Therefore you love to spend time with the Avengers, they fill a space in your hearts that should be fill by your father. Especially Bruce, he is so fatherly loving, it warms your heart and put tears of joy in your eyes.

Having Bruce to care for you is so important that if he asks you to have sexual relationships with him you would say yes just to keep having his love. You would have sex with all the avengers man if that meant them loving you.

When you heard Tony tell Pepper about the arrival of a new Avenger of 15 years, your heart stoped. What if she is better than me? What if they love her more than they love me? what if-

Peter. That's the name your father said. It was a male. That was soothing. You usually didn't like boys of your age, but maybe this one was different.

You already know that Tony loves him. The way he talks about Peter is almost shivery. "Peter is a genius, that boy has a future." "He is a good boy. Sweet and all" And that aunt of his... such a display" "The Avengers are going to love him".

Now the soothing feeling is gone and the fear is back.

He sounded good. That was bad.

You can't hate someone good. But you can't like him neither.

He wasn't presented to the Avengers yet. You didn't know how he looked yet. But the boy was already tearing apart the only part of your life that wasn't crumbling.

@whosmarii | Please do not copy, rewrite or translate my work without asking me and reciving my approval first. Thank you!

[earthtomia]

fic recs!

(all fics are x reader; specific characters below the cut)

╰┈➤ all time favourites! <3

╰┈➤ smut recs! 18+ ONLY

please respect the writers and do not interact with any content marked 18+ if you are a minor, thank you!

challengers (2024):

➸ art donaldson

➸ patrick zweig

criminal minds:

➸ aaron hotchner

➸ spencer reid

house md:

➸ gregory house

➸ james wilson

➸ robert chase

marauders:

➸ james potter

➸ remus lupin

➸ sirius black

marvel:

➸ bucky barnes

➸ matt murdock

➸ mcu!peter parker

➸ robert “bob” reynolds

➸ tasm!peter parker

star wars:

➸ din djarin

➸ han solo

➸ obi-wan kenobi

stranger things:

➸ eddie munson

➸ jonathan byers

➸ robin buckley

➸ steve harrington

supernatural:

➸ dean winchester

➸ sam winchester

the pitt:

➸ frank langdon

➸ jack abbot

➸ michael “robby” robinavitch

➸ samira mohan

➸ trinity santos

miscellaneous characters:

➸ carmen berzatto (the bear)

➸ fox mulder (the x files)

➸ joel miller (the last of us)

retired characters:

(no new fic recs will be added for these characters!)

➸ indiana jones

➸ lip gallagher (shameless)

➸ rafe cameron (outer banks)

➸ thomas shelby (peaky blinders)

[stxar-pvnk]

Peter: mister stark..I'm not going to college anymore.

Tony: what?! WHY-

Peter: oh and i hate AC/DC I think it's overrated

Tony breathing hard: WHAT IS GOING ON-

Peter: I'm also ditching you for mr captain America he's my new mentor

Tony having a near heartattack: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, PARKER

Tony wakes up screaming, pepper worriedly asking what's wrong while Tony realises it was all a dream

Tony: oh thank god my life flashed before my eyes, I literally thought I lost my son for a second

Pepper: we don't...

Tony: Peter.

Pepper: ah. I see. Nightmares of him replacing you with Steve again?

Tony shuddering: I don't think I'll be able to look him in the eyes without feeling a sudden wash of rage..

[percabething]

Reading the same fanfic every 5 hours

[matt-murdockk]

absolutely diabolical that a fic will have the most beautiful summary ever and have you think that you're going to read some really good fluff or angst and the first content warning is anal fisting

[shxrkk]

Peter Parker is SCARILY good at lying. Years of training, he can go full waterworks in a second to REALLY sell it. Especially the whole “I’m just an innocent kid with bad luck” act. I mean, the guy spends his entire life with a secret identity— Of course, he has to be good at lying.

Yet, for some reason he’s the worst liar ever when it comes to his friends and family.

Tony? “That’s… odd. Happy told me you quit band six weeks ago?”

Ned? “I’m not Spider-Man!” while actively on the ceiling.

May? “I know you sneak out of this house every night!”

MJ? Just straight up, “I am Spider-Man.”

For some reason, his friends and family see completely through his lies. Or maybe, they really just see him.

[wynnd-citrus]

Tony survives! Anything But “Mr Stark” Pt. 2 :3

[im-sleepdeprived]

can you do one where peter gets hurt a little bit and gets all whiny and crap and the reader is trying so hard to stay focused. LOVE YOUR STORIES BRO!!!!!

I LOVE THIS IDEA !!! it’s definitely such a peter thing to do. here’s a short, cutesy little thing, i hope you like it and im sorry it took me so long to get back to you💞✨ !! warnings are just peter being a big whiny baby whose desperate for affection, small mentions of injuries, 1,3k wc <333

“Ow!”

“Peter, be quiet! Stop whining, I’m almost done.”

“I’m in pain, baby,” he whined. 

It hadn’t been a surprise to be disturbed by a knock on your window, Peter usually stopped by after patrol which was why you’d started leaving it open for him. But when he hadn’t slid the window open after those few soft taps, you’d gotten a little worried. 

So you’d gotten out of bed to open for him, only to find your boyfriend perched before you, mask off, pouting heavily at you. 

Of course, you’d helped him in and gotten him laying across your bed so you could start to clean him up. You’d started keeping a first-aid-kit at hand since you’d found out he was Spider-Man. It had been of great use. 

But it hadn’t taken you long to realize that his wounds, as far as his usual patrol wounds went, weren’t bad. Not at all. In fact, you were positive that he could’ve gone home, slept the rest of the night, and woken up good as new as if nothing had happened in the first place. Maybe your boyfriend had forgotten that he had super-healing abilities. 

Or maybe he just liked the way you babied him.

“Oh, are you now?” You asked, glancing up at him with a raised brow. There was really nothing for you to do other than wipe the few cuts and scratches with antiseptic and place small bandaids over them. He just enjoyed pestering you.

“Yes,” he said so seriously, you almost laughed. This Peter was a stark contrast to actually-injured-Peter, who would do everything he could to assure you he was fine when he was literally bleeding out before your eyes. You didn’t like that. At least this was funny. 

“Petey, baby,” you laughed softly, adjusting a small bandaid on the high of his cheekbone where he’d had a small scrape. “You’re actually pretty put together tonight. Must’ve been a pretty quiet night, hm?”

“No,” he sighed dramatically, grabbing the wrist by his face gently, keeping you close to him. “No, it was horrible sweetheart, I’m gonna need extra care tonight. You know, to help the trauma.”

Shaking with laughter, you leaned in and pecked his cheek, right beside the cut you’d just bandaged. “The ‘trauma’, Petey? Really?”

A large, dopey grin broke over his face as you pecked his cheek and he squeezed you wrist a little. “There. That’s perfect, such a big help sweetheart, you have no idea what you do for me. You make the pain bearable, pretty girl.” 

You rolled your eyes affectionately, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “There, all better?” You asked him as you pulled away where you were met with a scowl.

“Y/N, honey, I’m suffering! I’m knocking on death’s door, angel! Give me something!”

You absolutely lost it at that, falling back onto the bed in a fit of giggles. “I can’t help you when all you do is whine!” When you opened your eyes, Peter was hovering over you, trying to keep his little facade of being upset and in pain, which was fruitless with the large smile blooming on his lips.

“You’re so mean, you know that?”

“Oh really? I’m the mean one?”

“Yes! You just found out your boyfriend, the love of your life, your future husband, the father of your future children—”

“What?!”

“—is dying, and what do you do? You laugh!!”

Another laugh escaped you, this time the sound infecting Peter as well. “I-if you’re dying, doesn’t that mean you won’t be my husband or the ‘father of my future children?” You manage out between laughs.

Peter gasped offendedly. “I…I…” he tried to defend himself to no avail. You’d caught him. 

You laughed even harder. “It’s okay, Petey. I’ll tell my future children all about you.”

He didn’t seem to like that very much. In one swift motion, his hands were on your hips, picking you up as he laid back on the bed again, his back pressed against the headboard before he plopped you down onto his lap.

“Oh hi,” you grinned at him, loosely looping your arms over his shoulders, his own hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his eyes soft and loving as he looked up at you.

Leaning down, you pressed your forehead against his. Peter’s hands tightened on your waist, tugging you closer till your chest was pressed against his. 

“I have another wound you haven’t patched up for me yet.” He spoke softly. 

“Yeah?” You asked, fully expecting him to be playing a bit, the smile already starting to tug at the corners of your lips. “Where, sweetie?”

He smiled right back at you, sticking his hand between where your chests were pressed together and pressing on the spider emblem on the center of his suit, making the fabric deflate with a soft breath and flood around him.

Pushing the suit away for him, you noticed a scratch on his chest you hadn’t realized was there before, making you frown. It wasn’t deep and it wasn’t bleeding, but it was long and a harsh shade of red, the skin around it tinged pink with irritation, and it definitely could’ve used a cleaning. 

“Petey, baby, why didn’t you show me this before?” You asked softly, shifting in his lap as you leaned over to grab the kit again. 

Peter sighed, biting back a smile. This was exactly what he’d needed, that soft, gentle voice of yours you used on him whenever he stopped by bruised and banged up. “Why, you think it’s bad sweetheart?”

“No, no, thank god…” you muttered as you got to work on the scratch. “But I bet it burns. Does it hurt, honey?”

“Yeah,” he answered, letting out a soft groan for show as he leaned further back against your headboard. One of his hands left your waist and found it’s way to your hair, playing with the strands and giving one a gentle tug every now and them. 

“Peter,” you grumble, refusing to look up at him.

“Your hair is so soft.” He murmured in awe, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. 

“Genetics.” You deadpanned. “Now stop distracting me, I’m trying to help you!”

“You are helping me, pretty girl. Just watching that gorgeous face while you bandage me up is doing half the healing already.” Another tug to your hair. 

You swatted his hand away before poking his side with a soft smile. “No bandages for this one, sorry Pete. I’m just gonna have to heal you with kisses.”

“That sounds great,” he beamed widely. “Your kisses make me heal way faster than bandages, trust me, I speak from experience.”

Ignoring him, you leaned down and peppered a few soft kisses along his chest, staying beside the cut but never kissing the wound itself. You could feel his breathing stutter, the rhythmic movements of his chest turning irregular beneath your lips. 

Peter hands on your waist tightened, his grip pushing you down on his lap. “Baby…” his voice was a soft, desperate thing, a deepness in his tone that made your stomach flip. Well that wasn’t right. 

You sat back up, picking up a leg to swing over and slide off his lap but his hands on your waist slid down to your thighs quickly, stopping you.

“What’re you doing, pretty girl?” The utter betrayal on his face almost had you second-guessing what you’d done for something way worse. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re hurt, Petey,” you answered simply, “we’re not doing anything tonight.”

“W-what? I’m not hurt, no, I’m fine! I’m perfect!”

“Really? I thought you were at death’s door.”

“Oh that…Yeah, no, he sent me away. Said it wasn’t my time.”

“Right, of course,” you murmured, nodding your head with all seriousness.

“Your kisses were working,” he stated sincerely, “you have to keep going!”

“Whatever you say, handsome.” You smiled, leaning in to press your lips to his. 

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hi! Can I request a Peter Parker X Stark! reader and she wants to try on Pete’s spidery suit and web shooters and he thinks she looks really good in it so he kisses her and Tony comes in and thinks they’re doing some weird type of role play?❤️

Hello there! I had so much fun writing this one! I'll probably say it turned out to be one of my favourite fics. Thanks for requesting! Hope you enjoy reading it too.

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𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐔𝐩, 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐩

Parings → Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Warnings → Fluff, Humor, Slight Spice, Making Out, Overprotective! Dad! Tony, Embarrassment, Light Suggestiveness.

Summary → You blackmail Peter into letting you try on his Spider-Man suit. It fits too well, leading to making out—and Tony walking in.

"Pleeeaaase, Pete?" You whined, leaning over his desk with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

Peter didn’t even look up from his notes, his pen gliding across the page. "Nope."

You groaned dramatically, throwing yourself back onto his bed. "Why not?! I'm the one who worked on half of your suit!"

"Keyword: half," Peter quipped, turning his chair slightly to smirk at you. "Mr. Stark did the heavy lifting, and, oh yeah—it’s my suit."

You sat up on your elbows, pouting. "That’s not fair! I bet it would look so cool on me."

"It’s not about looking cool, babe," he said, finally turning to fully face you. "It’s dangerous tech, Y/N. The suit has all kinds of built-in features, and I don’t want you accidentally webbing yourself to the ceiling or activating instant-kill mode."

You rolled your eyes. "As if I don’t know how the tech works! I built most of it with Dad. I probably understand the suit better than you do."

Peter gave you an unimpressed look. "That’s debatable."

Frustrated, you crossed your arms. If begging didn’t work, it was time for drastic measures. You sat up, narrowed your eyes at him, and smirked. "Fine. You leave me no choice."

Peter arched a brow. "Uh-oh."

You stood up, placed your hands on your hips, and announced, "No kisses for a month."

Peter froze. "Wait. What?"

You grinned, seeing his reaction. "Yep. No kisses. No sex. No cuddles. No cute little nose nuzzles. No hand-holding. No forehead kisses. Nothing."

His jaw dropped. "That’s—That’s cruel and unusual punishment!"

You fake-sighed, placing a hand over your heart. "Well, if my boyfriend refuses to let me try on the suit that I worked on, then I guess I have no choice but to take extreme action."

Peter looked genuinely distressed now, running a hand through his curls. "That’s so unfair. You can’t just—"

"And!" You interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You’re so ungrateful! I spend hours helping you upgrade that thing, and you won’t even let me try it for five minutes?" You dramatically turned away, placing a hand over your forehead. "Oh, the betrayal!"

Peter groaned loudly. "Ugh! Fine! "

You immediately spun around, grinning. "Wait, really?"

He gave you a deadpan look. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just—just don’t break anything, okay?"

You let out an excited squeal, doing a little happy dance before rushing over to grab the suit from where he pulled it out of his closet. "This is the best day of my life!"

Peter crossed his arms, watching you with a defeated sigh. "You’re ridiculous."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately, yes."

You snickered before holding the suit up in front of you, inspecting it. The fabric was smooth under your fingers. "Ooooh, I feel powerful already."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Okay, just—put it on already before I change my mind."

You nodded and started unzipping your hoodie, shrugging it off before kicking off your sweatpants. You were left in just your bra and panties when you noticed Peter had gone completely silent.

You turned to see him staring.

Blatantly.

His lips were parted slightly, his brown eyes locked onto your figure as if he had just seen the most captivating thing in the world.

You smirked. "Pete."

No response.

You snapped your fingers. "Peter Parker, my eyes are up here."

He blinked rapidly, his face immediately flushing. "I-I wasn’t—! I was just—!"

You crossed your arms, tilting your head playfully. "Just what?"

"Admiring my girlfriend," he admitted, looking sheepish but utterly smitten.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't hide your grin. "Uh-huh. Sure, Romeo. Now turn around."

Peter huffed dramatically but turned his back to you. "You act like I haven’t seen you in less."

"Yeah, well, you don’t get to ogle while I’m trying to be Spider-Woman for the day," you quipped, stepping into the suit.

As soon as you pulled it up over your shoulders, it felt huge. The fabric sagged, the arms hung loosely, and the legs were way too long. "Oh my God, Peter, your body proportions are so weird."

He laughed. "Hey! I have a perfectly normal body proportion, thank you very much."

You pouted, looking down at yourself. "It’s so baggy! Ugh, I look ridiculous."

Peter turned around, smirking. "You could always take it off."

You shot him a look. "Nice try." Then, you pressed the spider emblem on your chest.

Immediately, the suit shrank.

The fabric adjusted perfectly to your body, molding to every curve, every inch of your skin. Your stomach, chest, legs—everything was snug.

Peter stopped mid-breath.

His eyes traveled from your legs to your ass to your chest, and suddenly, his Adam’s apple bobbed. "Uh…"

You turned to the mirror, blinking. "Oh. Damn."

The suit hugged you perfectly. The fabric stretched in all the right places, highlighting every dip and curve of your body. Your ass? Amazing. Your boobs? Fantastic.

Peter made a strangled noise.

You turned to him with a smirk. "You okay there, bug boy?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Then, without a single word, he took two long strides forward, cupped your face, and kissed you.

It wasn’t just a peck. No, Peter devoured you, his lips molding against yours hungrily. His hands found their way to your jaw and waist, pulling you against him as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, melting into him as he pressed you against the wall. His hands started wandering—one settling on your jaw, tilting your head up, while the other slid down to firmly grab your ass.

You gasped into the kiss, breaking apart for just a second. "P-Peter—"

"You look so hot in my suit," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again, voice breathless and desperate.

You giggled between kisses. "I knew it!"

Peter groaned, nipping at your bottom lip as his hands squeezed your ass. "Not fair," he muttered, moving down to your jaw, leaving soft kisses.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I mean, if you wanna keep making out with me in your suit, I’m not stopping you—"

Then.

The door opened.

"Ay, kid, I need Y/N for a sec—WHAT THE HELL?!"

You and Peter immediately froze.

Your dad, Tony Stark, stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth open, looking horrified.

You and Peter were practically glued together—your arms around his neck, his hands on your ass, both of you looking like deer caught in headlights.

Tony blinked. "What. The. Actual. Fuck."

"Dad!" You yelped, shoving Peter off you.

Tony raised his hands, shaking his head rapidly. "Nope. Nope. Nope. I do not wanna know why you’re in the Spidey suit and sucking face with Spiderling. I do not wanna know what kinda freaky roleplay stuff you two are into."

You turned bright red. "IT’S NOT—"

"Oh my God," Tony muttered, rubbing his temples. "I need bleach. No, I need therapy. I need Pepper."

Peter, looking about five seconds away from fainting, squeaked out, "M-Mr. Stark, I—I swear—"

Tony pointed at him. "You. Out."

Peter blinked. "But… this is my room—"

Tony turned his glare up to maximum dad mode, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Peter swallowed hard. "I'm out."

And with that, he bolted straight out of the door.

"You. Family meeting. Now."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Kill me now."

Tony sighed, mumbling to himself as he walked away. "Why couldn't she date a nice, normal guy from down the street?"

From the hallway, Peter called out, "I am a nice, normal guy!"

You groaned again. "Oh my God, Peter, shut up!"

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[astxroiid]

harry's girl // any!peter parker -- non powered!au/virgin!peter

and she's loving him with that body, i just know it.

❥ you're dating Harry Osborne, Peter's best friend since kindergarten. And that should be totally fine... except Peter can't stop thinking about you. ((NSFW)) ib: jessie's girl by rick springfield.

wc: 6k - should be more, imo but, whatever, i'm lazy.

navigation — mit!au

Peter Parker and Harry Osborne had been inseparable since, basically, birth. Well, except for the four years of high school that Harry's dad had sent him away to private school.

Both boys had tried to stay in touch, but with the distance, and honors classes, and clubs it was difficult.

After high school, both Peter and Harry ended up at The Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Elated to see one another, Harry had invited Peter to a beginning of the year party being hosted by one of his friends.

Peter tentatively accepted.

He had walked into this house expecting something not completely unlike the grandeur he found. Marble floors, giant windows, and authentic art adorning the magnificence of the estate.

A home so nice, Peter never believed he'd ever step foot in one. Classical music was flowing from all corners of the manor, bringing Peter out of his daze.

I mean, who plays Mozart at a college party?

Except; this isn't college, it's an institute. And this is no mere party, it was a gathering of some of the richest and smartest twenty-something's in the country to drink expensive booze, or liquor rather, and have sex.

A lot of which was already taking place around him.

Peter found an antique looking loveseat in the corner of the drawing room and slunk into it.

He opened his phone, scrolling through a random social feed and allowing his mind to go numb.

"Parker!" A tall, thin boy emerged through the crowd of bodies, smiling from ear to ear.

"Osborne." Peter smiles back, standing to greet his friend.

"I'm glad you made it! I didn't know if it was your scene or not, but I hope you enjoy it all the same."

Peter nodded, looking to Harry's side and making eye contact with one of the most beautiful people he's ever seen. "Oh. Hello," His voice is small.

"Hi," you smile at the charming boy in front of you.

Peter feels himself internally retreat back, instantly self conscious of what you think of him. Was he weird for being on his phone at a party? Were the clothes he picked out wrong? Did he seem uninteresting?

"Ah, Peter. This is my girl," Harry squeezes you closer to him and you both smile as he gives Peter your name.

Having his fear confirmed, Peter gives a tight smile.

⡠﹞⚘���⠢

Peter didn't care much for the party. The drinks were nice, but he'd honestly rather be home.

He found himself outside on the porch, propped on the railing and watching his sigh disappear in the cold night air.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Days turned into weeks of school, studying, reluctantly being drug off to parties, and staring at a wall - trying not to notice you and Harry in the corner, making out.

Every now and then, Peter would watch Harry drag you off to one of the bedrooms, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach.

Most often, though, Peter would hide in the bathroom. He was trying to avoid the sight altogether.

That's where he is now. Sat on the edge of the tub, head rested in his hands as he internally screams at himself.

You can't have a crush on your best friend's girlfriend! That's the biggest rule in bro-code! What the fuck is wrong with me?

Peter rubbed his hands down his face. Sighing. His rumination broken by the sudden slam of a door. Giggling and shuffling.

Peter hadn't given much thought to choosing a bathroom that was connected to a bedroom. Until now.

He cracked the door open and the sight before him made his mouth dry. You were pushing Harry onto the bed, scooting your dress down your body.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Peter quickly, but quietly shut the door. Heart pounding, he slides down the wall.

"God, you're so beautiful," Harry sighed.

Peter pressed a fist to his eye. God I'm an idiot.

It wasn't long before he heard moaning, damn near screaming, and dirty talk he'd rather have never heard from his best friend.

"Such a good girl... just like that... fuck."

Peter would cover his ears but it'd do no good. Instead he covers his face, ignoring the twitch in his pants at every single noise you make. He tries not to think about what's going on behind that door.

But his mind keeps flowing back. To you. To your body, your moans. It's not long before Peter is hard and imagining how good it'd feel to be inside you.

He can hear everything. Every time you cum, which has been many. Every time the position changes. Even every time Harry puts his hand around your throat.

It's everything Peter can do to not touch himself right there in the bathroom. He's gripping at the sides of his pants, trying - desperately - to hold out.

Finally, he can hear Harry finish. All three of you out of breath. A kiss. And what sounds like clothes being put back on.

"I gotta go, baby. The boys are wanting me to do a final round of shots with them."

"I gotta go too, my roommate wants me to bring take-out on my way back."

With that, silence follows for the first time in what felt to Peter like hours.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

When Peter got home he ran a cold shower instantly. Scrubbing his body raw and pushing his mind away from anything to do with you.

Harsh indeed, but necessary.

And as he laid down in bed, he tossed and turned all night. The only dreams and thoughts he had were of you.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter Parker awoke the next morning more erect than the night before. He had his subconscious to thank for that.

This began a series of sleepless nights for Peter. Each night restless, and each morning flustered.

He had opted out of the last three parties Harry had invited him to. All being on a Friday night, Peter lied and said he had a weekend full of studying to do.

"Always the most dedicated student, even in your twenties, I see," Harry had mused this afternoon.

Peter gave an awkward nod of his head and walked away.

Later in the evening, Harry had texted Peter.

I know you said you're busy this weekend, but you should drop by my place for some lunch tomorrow.

Peter flopped his phone beside him on the couch, sighing. He hated what his feelings had made of him. He was avoiding his best friend of years all because of a stupid crush.

He picked his phone back up.

I'm sure I can squeeze in a lunch. It better not be that pizza from last time though.

Peter smiled at the memory of the burnt pizza Harry had attempted to make, turning his head back to the tv.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter walked into Harry's apartment, following the information given to him the night prior about the door being unlocked.

He looked around, admiring Harry's decorations. His friend is nowhere to be found. Peter called out,

"Hey, Harry?"

Silence.

Maybe he's getting changed or something.

Peter makes his way back to what he assumes to be the bedroom. He freezes about a foot away from the door. It's wide open. And he can see the whole room.

To put it gently, you and Harry seemed to be having a great time.

You were on top of him, blanket wrapped around your waist with your bare back showing. Soft moans flowing down the hallway.

Peter couldn't take his eyes away from the indents Harry's fingertips were making in your lower back.

Shit.

Peter's pants tightened. He couldn't look away. The way you were slowly rising and falling onto Harry's lap instantly being etched into Peter's mind.

"Fuck... Harry... m'gonna..." you threw your head back.

He had never heard such an angelic sound in his life. Poor Peter believed he might have a heart attack at the sight before him. All he could do was blink.

The echo of your climax rattled its way through the apartment. And finally, Peter came back to earth.

Fuck. Fuck, what if they see me? God, it's gonna look so weird.

A split-second decision had Peter quietly scurrying to the door. How do I keep ending up in these situations? He stepped out into the hallway, catching his breath. Peter tugged his phone out of his pocket, and messaging his friend.

Hey, I'm here.

In a moment Harry was opening the door, sleep shorts the only clothing on his thin frame. He was smiling.

"Peter! I told you the door would be unlocked."

"Yeah," Peter gave a sheepish smile. "I was just nervous."

You and Peter ended up sitting together at a small table in the kitchen while Harry stayed around the stove, cooking.

"Hope you don't mind her joining us, Peter."

Peter feels a pit in his stomach surrounded by the both of you. Too many conflicting emotions swirling in the room for him.

"No problem," he waves his hand. "Only gives me more of a chance to learn about my best friend's girlfriend."

You giggle and give Harry a look only you two understand. Peter looks confused.

"What? I thought you two were... but you said...?"

"Harry and I aren't exactly dating, Peter."

God, his name sounded like heaven coming off your lips. So much so he almost didn't render what you'd said.

"Oh," was all he could allow out without sounding too excited.

"We just enjoy each other's company," you smile.

"And if one of us finds something more permanent, no one's hurt," Harry shrugs.

"Got it," Peter's heart skipped a beat.

So maybe he had a shot after all.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

After brunch you and Peter ended up on the couch, chatting while Harry cleaned the dishes. He had insisted.

Peter had a question long held in his throat. One making his heart pound, no matter the fact that it was a simple question. It was still a question to you, nonetheless.

"So," Peter rubbed his hands on his jeans. "The thing about you and Harry...." God. It was such a simple question. Why couldn't he get it out?

You looked at him, smiling. His mind went blank. Any question he had was forgot.

"What about it?"

Peter scrambled to finish his question. "Uh, do you like it? Him?"

"Most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"Yeah, it's just-" you pause yourself, finding the right words. "Because of our... arrangement, Harry only focuses on what he needs. Which, I can't complain too much, I do the same. But-" you twitch your mouth from side to side.

"But, I enjoy caring for my partner. And when my partner does the same."

Peter is taking mental notes. He nods his head, ignoring the ache in his crotch at details you give.

"Yeah, I get that."

"Right? And - I enjoy my time with Harry, but he really isn't the kind of man I prefer in bed."

Peter's heart races.

"What kind of man do you prefer?" He pushes.

"Well, Harry's very assertive. And I really like a man to let me do the work. Someone more submissive," Peter please get the hint. You pray.

"Oh." Peter, being as inexperienced as he could possibly be, was confused. He made a mental note to figure out what you were talking about.

You had known the moment you'd met Peter that he was the exact kind of man you needed. Sweet disposition seeping into every facet of him. He was everything you'd been craving for months, if not your whole life, really.

You study Peter, seeing him squirm slightly under your gaze. You scoot closer, pressing your thigh to his. Peter feels a tingle down his back at the warmth you spread to him.

You prop a hand on the back of the couch, toying with the hair at the nape of Peter's neck. He stiffens, then relaxes into your touch. "What do you think, Peter?"

He snaps from his daze. "Uh... about what?"

"Y'know... what would you prefer, with whoever you're with." God, I hope this isn't too forward.

"Oh," he's quiet. Too quiet. You wait with bated breath. "Well, I uh, actually don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know? A man's gotta know what he likes!" You smile, moving your fingers along his scalp momentarily.

"I, well," Fuck, Peter, just spit it out. But really how is he supposed to tell the woman of his dreams, best friend's girl, the most amazing person he's ever met; that he's never done anything more than kiss a woman? And it wasn't more than a peck at that.

You wait, staring at him with wide eyes. You hope he feels the same as you. About a lot of things, really. But especially this.

"I wouldn't really know. Because," he takes a breath, eyes anywhere but you. "I've never really done anything to be able to learn what I like."

You smile. Not a malicious nor mocking smile, but a genuine, heartfelt, earnest smile. "Peter," it almost sounds chastising. "You don't need to do anything with anyone else to know. You just need to know what turns you on the most."

"Hm?" Peter's lips are pressed tight as he moves his honeyed-brown eyes back to yours.

"What can you think about, or watch, that gets you off the quickest?" You let your nails lightly drag across the back of Peter's neck, watching as he shivers from your touch.

He shifts uncomfortably, feeling your eyes on him. How the hell did he get himself in this situation? Beginnings of a hard-on in his pants, your fingers dancing on his skin, and mind a mess of any thoughts other than the one he needs to be having.

Peter never really watches porn. He's heard of it, of course. He's seen the memes about the websites, screenshots of funny faces - but when he's alone with himself, he usually just closes his eyes and waits for it to be over. How does he tell a woman like you that? Without sounding like the weirdest person ever?

"I, uh... don't know..."

You huff a laugh through your nose. "Well if you ever figure it out, I'm curious to know what gets a cute boy like you off," you smile and stand, ruffing Peter's hair as you walk towards the kitchen.

'She called me cute. She wants to know what gets me off. Maybe I have way more of a shot than I thought.'

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Later that night, Peter rested against the headboard of his bed. He stared at the search bar on his phone, a familiar orange and black logo in the top corner.

Peter wracked his brain, trying to figure out what to look up to understand what you meant.

And I really like a man to let me do the work. Someone more submissive.

Peter sighs, typing 'submissive man' and holding his breath as he hits enter.

The videos the boy is left to find stir something deep in his stomach. The leashes, the ropes, the positions, the words.

It's not long before Peter's hand makes its way into his pants. He's pumping himself breathlessly, struggling to keep his phone steady. He's imagining you. You doing exactly to him what they're doing in the videos.

God, it's perverse. It's depraved and even a little bit carnal. It doesn't take long for beads of white ejaculate to roll onto Peter's hand. He trembles and whines.

Shame washes over Peter like a hot wave upon the sand. Fuck. He's so stupid. So gross. Thinking of his best friend's girlfriend like this. Peter drops his phone beside him, rubbing his face with his undefiled hand

Technically they aren't really 'together'. Says the sanguine voice in the depths of Peter's mind. But wouldn't it still be weird? Obviously not to Peter if this is how he thinks of you in his spare time.

Regarding his thoughts of you; his mind dances back to before, imagining how your lips would feel on his neck, hand around his cock, whispering sweet praises and he begs you to let him cum. He's definitely hard again.

"Fuck," he whines. Peter's hand returns to his cock, throbbing in his fist. He bites down on his shirt collar to keep from whimpering too loud and begins to fuck into his hand again. This time more forceful than the last. He's squirming under your imagined touch, shaking as his mind races to fantasize about you holding him down, having your way with him.

And there he goes again, bursting at the seams with his desire for his best friend's girl.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter finds himself over at Harry's place more frequently than before. The lie he tells is that he hates being home. Not a complete lie, but not a complete truth either. The thought at the forefront of Peter's mind: how can I spend more time around her?

And it works. You and Harry believe him, though anything that keeps Peter around you won't look into too much. Harry makes or orders food, he stops asking Peter out to parties - inferring his best friend's aversion for them.

Sometimes, late at night, you and Harry talk about him.

"So what do you think of Peter?" He'll ask.

Your hand dances on Harry's chest, swirling circles and stars. "I think he's cute," you'll admit. "He's very sweet, and shy. It's endearing."

Harry will nod his head along. "I think he likes you," said nonchalant because it is. Harry always is. "Have you noticed?"

"Do you think so?" Risking sounding too eager is an irrelevance.

"Sweetheart, if you could see the way he looks at you, you wouldn't be questioning me right now."

You smile to yourself before pausing. "Would that be weird for you? Seeing your best friend with someone you've fucked?"

He smiles down at you. "If they looked at each other the way you two do, not at all. I'd wish them the best."

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Somehow, you ended up with Peter's number. Somehow, you ended up texting him all night, every night. And somehow, neither of you minded.

Endless conversations about mindless nothings. Just getting to know each other. There were plenty of times where Peter would worry about Harry. He'd reassure himself that his best friend said he wouldn't care and either way, there was nothing going on between the two of you.

And then, you'd send a goodnight text with a kiss beside it. Or a good morning text with a pet name in it. And Peter's heart would flutter.

You often discussed school and home lives. That's how Peter found out that you attends MIT as well, and that you live in an apartment with a roommate who chews too loud but is otherwise fine. And, more importantly, how he found out that you don't spend as much time with Harry as Peter's past predicaments would make it seem.

This is how you find out Peter lives alone in a tiny apartment near the university, that he has a tendency to stress himself to death, and that he's more lonely than he seems.

Leading you to the text you'll send today.

I've heard rumors of an amazing coffee shop near your place. Wanna come with?

Sent at the perfect time for him to have just gotten home from his last class. You knew he needed a break, he was working himself too hard on one class alone.

Absolutely! Meet you there?

Peter's chest tingled and he responded. A date? No. But almost.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter made it to Mug & Meadow about four minutes before you, waiting by the door.

When you arrived, he held the door for you. Ever the gentleman.

A wave of warm air washes over you. The scent of espresso mingling with burnt vanilla. You step onto the dark wood floor, taking in your surroundings while Peter lets the door swing closed.

Dark, chocolate colored walls matching the wooden floors, except, around the counter has a black and white, diamond-tiled design. Arched windows across the front of the store. Warm lighting pieces scattered about the ceiling.

Light jazz dancing through hidden speakers, soft chatter melding with the beats. Wow. You smile and turn back to Peter, seeing him taking in the surroundings as well. He looks to you, smiling back.

After ordering, Peter tells you to find a seat while he waits on the drinks. You choose a two seated table off to the side. A window to one side and the rest of the store to the other. A nearby bookshelf calls your name.

Peter finds you with your nose off in a leather-bound collection of Robert Frost works. "This place is nice," he sets the cups down on the provided coasters.

You place the book down on the hardwood table, old wax sticking to your fingers ever-so-slightly.

"Yeah," you give your breathless response. "I love it."

"Already? But you just met it," Peter jokes.

"When you know, you know," you sip from your steaming cup. "Who says I don't believe in love at first sight?" You give Peter a knowing look.

He falters. "Uh, well, I was talking to the barista and he said this place is also a library. Which is super cool," He's redirecting.

"Really? That's awesome."

"Yeah, it's something to do with the fact that the owner is like a simi-famous author with the last name Meadow, hence the name," Peter waves a hand up, referring to the shop.

"We definitely have to come back here forever," You take another sip of your drink.

Already booking our next almost-date.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter's stomach swirled, heart beating fast. He was pacing around his living room. A small space, albeit well decorated thanks to May's input and Christmas presents from last year.

"When you have girls over, you'll thank me for helping," And here he is now, mentally thanking her.

You'd asked Peter when the three of you were hanging out at Harry's place last weekend if you could come over. Just you. No Harry this time. A simple question. 'I just wanna hang out with you," it was all you'd given as a reason and it was more than Peter needed to say yes to you.

He's started to say yes before you even explained, not needing a reason more than just seeing you. But the nerves from being alone with you had started to get to him.

Maybe I should've said no. What if she thinks im weird? Especially without the cover of Harry's coolness, Peter felt almost naked. He checked his phone as it chimed.

Google maps says I'm a block away!

Peter nearly chokes on his tongue. Shit, shit, fuck. Okay, how does everything look? There's no messes, no gross smells? Oh, god, how do I look? He ran back to the mirror in his bedroom, double checking his whole outfit.

A simple look. Jeans, sneakers, and a black hoodie layered with a red flannel over it to combat the mid-fall/early winter Massachusetts weather.

Peter brushed his dark curls into place with his fingers, tucking any loose hairs away. He cups a hand over his mouth, letting out hot breath. He brushed his not even five minutes ago, but let his anxiety get the better of him.

A knock on the door and the ding of his phone send his mind flying. Peter takes a deep breath and checks his phone as he walks to the door.

37D right? If so, I'm here!

He slips the phone into the pocket of his jeans and calms himself, reaching for the door handle. "Hey," he smiles wide, happy to see you despite his nerves.

"Hello," you smile back, nearly losing yourself in his warmth. Late November on a cloudy day indoors, and you feel you might get a sunburn. "I brought the takeout we talked about!" You shake the bag excitedly.

"Did you get the egg rolls? It's the only way I can grant you admittance into my abode, I fear."

"I have, although I'm sure you wouldn't leave a fair maiden out in the cold, would you?" You laugh.

"Never one so pretty," Peter steps to the side, guiding you into his apartment. He shuts the door behind you, offering to take your coat, hanging it on the rack beside his door.

"So what movies did you pick? Only the best I'm sure."

"What makes you say that? I could have a real shit taste in movies you know. What if I only watched the Shrek movies?"

"Oh no!" You giggle. "I gotta go."

So far, Peter feels like he's doing great. He's got you to laugh twice and the smile on your face has yet to falter.

You set the takeout on the coffee table and Peter helps you set everything up, begging you to let him do it because you're the guest. You insist on your help.

Within minutes; your laying with your legs over Peter's lap, throw blanket over your legs, plates of food in hand and the movie's starting.

"Can I know what movie this is?"

"Shh, it's starting," Peter squeezes your leg, spreading warmth throughout your body. "And no, it's a secret."

For the duration of the movie you find yourself scooting closer and closer to Peter. Eventually, both your hearts are pounding in your throats as Peter wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his side. You wrap your arm around Peter's waist.

He's trying not to breathe too quickly. Efforts fail when you bury your face in his neck, hot breath fanning across his skin. He stiffens slightly. You notice.

You glide your hand from where it rests around his waist to his thigh, rubbing lightly. Peter is trying his best to focus on the movie and definitely not the growing ache in his pants.

You nuzzle your nose below his jaw, purposely breathing against his neck again. Peter lets out a sigh, not a negative one, more so a breath he'd been keeping in. Perhaps for as long as he's known you.

Peter finds himself stretching his hips forward. More subconsciously than anything. You take the chance, heart in your throat, and slide your hand over Peter's crotch.

God, is this actually happening? Peter's mind is trying to find any way he could be misreading this. Oh, shit. You press your palm into Peter's lap.

He looks down at you, a new emotion in his eyes. You share the same look in yours. A beat of a moment passes and you're sending Peter's head reeling and you slowly move closer. Sharing breath and keeping his eyes locked with yours all the way up until you close your eyes and press your lips against his.

With a body full of confidence and a mind full of you, Peter kisses back. It's sweet and gentle like him, yet as needy and passionate as you. He hums and you melt at the sound.

You feel his bulge grow under your hand and you keep your movements soft. Earning whines from him kissed into your mouth. You hold his crotch tight and rub your thumb up and down. Peter huffs into you and pushes his hips against your hand. He's never experienced as much pleasure in his life as he has right now and yet, he finds himself nearly begging for more.

You oblige to his unspoken request and straddle his hips. The broken kiss causing a fleeting warmth between you. "And this is okay?" Your words are sincere and nearly concerned.

"Nothing has ever been more okay than this," Peter puts a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to kiss him. You both smile.

You press your hips into him, earning the cutest whimper you've ever heard in your life. You grind yourself into Peter's growing bulge and he rests his head against the back of the couch, moaning loud.

The boy in front of you looks like a dream. Face flushed, dark ochre curls a mess, lips parted as his head lay back. You use the opening to kiss at his throat, leaving marks you know won't fade anytime soon.

With each rock of your hips Peter moans louder. Having never had a man as vocal as him, you drink up all he'll offer. You have that pretty bulge of his trapped right against your hips, exactly as you want him.

Your movements are getting faster, as are Peter's moans. Whimpers only increasing your need for him.

Peter can hardly stand it. He's gripping your hips about as tight as he can, trying to hold himself back but fuck the pressure feels so good, and you look so hot right now. Your kisses are sending chills down his spine.

He pulls you to kiss him on the mouth, needy and fervent. Your mouths move in unison, an unspoken rhythm known only to the two of you.

You grab his hair and pull his head back. "Fuck," he chokes, looking down at where your grinding against him.

You feel his cock twitch inside his pants, begging to be touched, pleading to be sucked off. You switch your pace to an even tempo with hard pushes and watch as Peter's eyes darken under you.

Peter grabs your hips tighter, and goes still. He lets out a low whine. You feel his hips jolt beneath you and you pause. His face is flushed a deep rose all the way to his neck.

You stare in disbelief. Peter hides his face in your neck, holding your body close. You look beneath you, seeing a dark spot form in Peter's jeans.

"Aw, baby," you pull his face from your neck, looking him in the eyes. "Don't be embarrassed, that's so fucking hot."

It's Peter's turn to hold the look of disbelief. "Really?" Every ounce of shame draining from his body by the look on your face alone.

"Absolutely. I've never made a man cum from so little before."

Peter's sigh of relief doesn't go unnoticed. You smile and kiss his cheek, loving and kind, same as him. You quickly kiss down his neck, making way towards his pants. You slide onto your knees on the floor between Peter's legs.

He's breathing fast again. Fingers restlessly fidgeting beside him. He's not sure he believes what's happening is real. There's no way you're between his knees right now, looking at him like that.

Peter holds a breath as your fingers move to the button on his pants. His zipper deafening in the surrounding silence. You press a kiss to the wet spot in Peter's boxers, looking him directly in the eyes as you do. You feel him twitch against your lips.

There's no way...

You gently pull him out of his underwear, shock evident in your eyes when you see he's hard again, cock covered in his own cum. Peter twitches at the contact, more sensitive than ever.

"Fuck, Pete... that's so hot."

Never in his life. Never did Peter believe he'd ever experience anything like this. To be honest, he'd convinced himself he'd die a virgin. Sad, true, but a reality to him all the same.

You slowly, teasingly, stroke Peter's length and watch as his hips shake. "F-f-fuck..." You run your thumb over the tip of his cock, biting your lip with anticipation.

You can't help yourself, can't stand it any longer. You wrap your mouth around the head of Peter's dick, the taste of his cum has you rolling your eyes back into your head. Peter whines and you take him in, all you can fit.

His strangled moans fill the room as you work him up. Peter can hardly breathe, swapping between looking at the ceiling and you.

The noises from you are lewd. That alone would have Peter finishing faster than ever if not for his sheer determination to experience this pleasure for as long as he can. That said, he's still not going to last long. You can tell.

You pull off of him with a pop, watching the mixture of cum and saliva flow down his shaft.

"Fuck, that was-- you're amazing," Peter's dopey smile stretches his cheeks.

"Just wait until you're inside me, Peter."

Peter chokes at the implication. His dick twitches on his lap. An aching boner growing once more.

He watches as You begin to undress yourself, slowly, in front of him. Taunting his erection with each piece of exposed skin. Your shirt is the first to go, immediately exposing your hardened nipples.

Peter's struggling to keep himself together.

You slip your jeans down your legs, giving Peter a show with each fabric gone.

Instinctually, Peter wraps a large hand around his aching, sensitive cock. He slowly pumps himself.

You grab his wrist, grip firm. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" You're completely naked, eyes stern as they look into Peter's.

"No..."

You raise an eyebrow, silently asking.

"No, ma'am," Peter is so unbelievably turned on right now.

"Good boy," you smile, releasing his wrist and kissing his cheek.

God.

You step close to Peter, grabbing his hand. "Feel how wet I am for you," Peter feels he might faint before even touching you. He presses a finger between your folds. Fuck, you're soaked. "That's what you do to me."

He looks up at you, pleading. He nearly whispers your name. "I need you."

Those words are all you need to plant your legs on either side of his hips. You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around Peter's length. He moans. You glide his tip along your slit, soaking him in your arousal.

Peter violently grabs the arm of the couch, white-knuckling the fabric. You slide his cock inside you and you lower your hips. Moaning loud at the sensation of him filling you up. Peter's panting, staring between the two of you in disbelief.

No way this is actually happening right now. Fuck, she's so tight. So warm, so amazing...

You slowly begin to bounce on Peter's lap, loving the way his eyes and head roll back. "Fuck, Pete."

You place your hands on his shoulders, picking up a pace near intense. Your lips find his in a heated embrace. Moans slipping from both your mouths like a symphony of pleasure.

Your body squeezes around Peter's cock and he's brought to the edge all too quickly. You wrap a hand around his throat, squeezing the pulse points. He grabs your hips so tight you're sure you'll have marks left. You don't mind at all.

"God, you're so good. So, fucking, good. Please... don't stop," he's panting, out of breath and dizzy from pleasure. Peter never believed this would be his first time. Not with you. Not like this. Not this amazing. It's the most euphoric sensation he's ever felt in his whole life.

"I want you to cum inside me, Pete, please," your voice is pleading, needy.

"But--"

"--I'm on the pill. Peter. Please. Cum inside me."

Never needing to be told more than twice; Peter pulls your hips down against his own, holding you hard against him. He cums deep inside you, shaky whine echoing throughout the apartment.

He rests his head against your chest, huffing. You tangle your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. He kisses between your breasts, slowly moving to your neck. "Fuck, you're amazing," Peter pants between kisses to your hot skin.

You hum, kissing the top of his head. "I take it you enjoyed your first time?"

Peter's head snaps back up to you. "How did you--"

"--Peter..." Please don't make me tell you how obvious it is. He turns red, hiding his face in your neck.

"God, that's so embarrassing."

"Not at all, it's actually really hot."

"Really?" His eyes shine beneath you.

"I've always wanted to be someone's first. And the fact that it was you, Peter...."

Peter kisses at your chest again, moving to leave matching marks to his own on your neck. You let out a small, yet heavenly, moan. When he feels the way your body squeezes around his, he whines and presses an embarrassed face into your neck. His arms wrapping tightly around you.

You feel him harden inside you, gasping. "Peter."

This is going to be an amazingly long night.

i will most definitely be reusing that coffee shop description in future fics - i love it!

very proud of this one - please remember likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs mean the most <3

[ramen8008]

I believe if Loki shape-shifted into Tony nobody would notice for a concerning amount of time. Cause both of them are such divas

Two scenarios.

One, Tony is gone on some business thing and Loki wants to have fun having control over everything.

First he avoids the avengers because he thinks they'll know.

But a few run-ins later he is getting oddly concerned as to why nobody realizes it's him. So he tries to see how far it can go

Steve: Hey Tones we need you in the hall, Clint-

Loki: No

Steve: understandable. Its his problem he can stay stuck

--------

Bruce: why is everything floating?

Loki: because I'm making it

Bruce: oh alright. Just glad not another one of your machines went rogue

Loki: ?????

------------

Thor: Thanks for the pop-tarts, Stark!

Loki: I did nothing. I hope you choke on them

Thor: oh so humble! You did buy so many that I could choke!

---------

Rhodey: *stares*

Loki: what

Rhodey: *squints eyes*

Loki: *confused and anxious* why are you doing that?

Rhodey: you aren't Tony *walks away*

Loki: wait HOW DID YOU KNOW?! Where are you going-

Rhodey: Tony needs a break, I'm not stopping this

----------

Peter: Mr. Stark! Look at this!

Loki: Don't bother me

Peter: .... Mr. Stark?

Loki: what did I say? I'm busy. Go away you pest

Peter: ....

Loki: ....

Peter: ....

Loki: *concerned at the sudden silence*

Peter: *looking absolutely terrifying and ready to fight* you're not Mr. Stark

Loki: fuck

-------

OR Tony and Loki learn this after an incident like above and plan to see how long it'll take for Loki to be discovered

[uhhhj13iguess]

i should've kissed you

kind of a song fic based off of 'i should've kissed you' by one direction lmao, no lyrics though! just heavily inspired from

avenger!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: the five times peter almost kissed you and didn't, and the one time he finally did

UM LMFAO 5.3K WORDS I KNOW THATS RIGHT

masterlist

1

peter fell back harshly onto his bed, a groan escaping his lips. he ran his hands over his face roughly before throwing his hands down to his side in frustration, small punches made at his mattress as he stared up at his ceiling.

he took a few deep breaths, cringing as he replayed the ending of your and peter's date in his mind.

the date had been going perfectly. in fact, peter had yet to be convinced the entire night wasn't a dream as he walked you back through the halls of the avengers tower after your dinner that evening.

everything felt so right, and he knew you felt it too. you were laughing at all of his jokes, small touches on his arm: for once in his life, he was being smooth. and for once in his life, it was actually working.

as you approached your door, you turned to face him, hand reaching out to meet his. he grabbed it with a smile, squeezing it gently and taking a step closer to you.

"i had a really good time tonight, pete. i'm really glad you asked me out." you looked up at him, nothing but love in your eyes. he melted just looking at them.

he smiled softly back at you. "i am too. i'd really love to do it again sometime, (y/n)."

"me too," you spoke in a whisper.

peter reached up to brush hair out of your eyes, tucking it gently behind your ear. you looked at him through your long lashes, a blush apparent across your features. you leaned into his touch and he held his hand there against your cheek, beaming at you. your eyes flickered down to his lips before returning to meet his gaze, lightly chewing on your own lips.

holyshitholyshitholyshit, okay. calm down. this is it. you have the signal, this is going to be awesome, just lean in and --

and he... didn't? wait, why am i not leaning in? kiss her, goddamn it!

peter stood there frozen, a look of awe still adorning his features as he stared at you. you gave him yet another soft smile, reaching up to grab his hand from your cheek. you gave it a quick squeeze before letting it go at his side.

"'night pete. i'll see you tomorrow?"

you reached for your door knob, giving him an eager look with a grin still plastered across your face.

he nodded feverntly, choking out a quiet "y-yeah, of course,"

you nodded and gave him a small wave before disappearing behind your door.

peter remained frozen for a few more seconds, still staring where you no longer stood in front of him. his eyes widened and he let out a shakey breath.

"holy shit, i should've kissed her."

peter let out another groan at the memory, rolling over to bury his head in his pillow.

he had just went on the most perfect date with the woman of his dreams. there's already no way the entire thing wasn't just the most beautiful dream he'd ever had, and there's no WAY he fucked up taking his chance to kiss you. he truly could not believe himself.

peter let out a damn near pathetic whine into his pillow as he replayed the moment for what would come to be many times that night.

2

"i don't know ned, i just... froze!"

"you just froze? are you fucking with me right now?"

peter let a sigh out as he placed his phone on speaker, setting it on his desk so he could finish pulling on his shirt. he wanted to call ned before running out to get coffee with you that next morning, and the more he spoke, the more he regretted it.

"i wish i was. i actually cannot describe to you how much i wish i was."

he heard ned let out another "dude" as he messed with his hair in the mirror.

"she's never going to talk to me again, is she?"

"dude, she's never going to look at you again. i don't know how much more to say you were already punching over your weight here, and somehow still landed the date, and you just fumbled it?? i mean, you went on a date with like, the woman of all women, and you didn't kiss her goodnight?!? i, i can't-"

"ughhh, ned you're not helping!!"

"what do you want me to say, dude? there's no way you fucked up this hard. you have to get in there and kiss her before you don't get the chance to fuck it up again."

peter let out a sigh as he picked up his phone, taking it off speaker and bringing it to his ear.

"do you think she's going to even give me another chance?" he asked solemnly, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"you really better hope she does."

"fuck."

peter ended the call and grabbed his belongings, shaking off his not-so-helpful call with ned and heading downstairs to meet you out front. he had to admit it, he was relieved to see you still showed up. your patience with him must've been god-given, and he wasn't going to mess this up again.

"hey, you" peter called out to you, earning a smile in his direction as you turned back to see him.

"hey, pete. how'd you sleep?"

"good, you?" he lied through his teeth as if his disastrous decision allowed him one second of rest last night.

but you gave him yet another smile, and his nerves around the whole situation seemed to go away.

"good. ready to go? i'm starting to think if i don't get some caffeine in me soon, you're not going to want that second date." you laughed, beginning to walk down the street as peter joined your side.

"highly doubtful," he said with a nudge at your arm. "so you had a good time? last night, i mean?"

you nodded eagerly, your eyes lighting up as soon as you thought about the date.

"the best."

peter smiled at you, "good."

over the course of the walk over, you picked up normal conversation and peter felt relief wash through his body as he began to realize maybe he didn't blow his chance. he grew more confident, flirting with you and even interlocking your fingers together as he felt your hand brush his.

you blushed like a madman at the action, but gladly accepted as you rounded the corner to the coffee shop you and peter often frequented, even before he had expressed his feelings to you.

peter was feeling good again. he did his best to shake his attempt from last night and just plan for the next one. he got back in his groove, doing everything he could do to woo you. he grabbed the door to the shop for you, paid for your coffee, and pulled your stool out at the counter. he had this.

he picked up a conversation about something sam and bucky had gotten into this week, earning nothing but full belly laughs from you. peter felt on top of the world hearing your laugh, his smile faltering slightly as he watched you bring your coffee to your lips. he took a deep breath, his senses immediately overwhelmed as he saw you repeat the gesture towards him, the two of you silently flickering between eye contact and staring at the other's lips.

he didn't know who moved first, but you both began to lean closer to one another, whispers of your conversation falling on deaf ears as he focused on not missing his shot this time.

okay parker, you've got this. she's right here, all you have to do is just... kiss her. okay? just, for fucks sake just kiss her

you sat inches away from his face, once again staring up at peter through your lashes, batting them softly at him.

signal! that's the signal! peter! lean! in!

and again, he just... didn't?? there's no chance in hell he messed this up a second time. what the fuck is wrong with him.

the vibrations of his phone on the counter startled you both, earning a chuckle from you as he muttered an apology, picking up the phone. his face bright red.

"i, yeah? oh, yeah we can be there shortly. yeah. okay mr. stark, thanks."

he ended the call with a sad smile in your direction.

"tony wants us at the tower for a meeting asap." he let out with a breathy laugh, looking down at his hands.

he expected to look up and see disappointment in your eyes, but he was caught off guard when all he was met with was sincerity. you gave him a smile, grabbing his hand and giving it a small kiss before pulling him from the counter.

"no worries! it's not like we weren't going to get coffee tomorrow again anyways."

peter gave you a thankful smile, sliding out of the cafe with you, hand in hand. you were so quick to jump back to your usual self, carrying on your conversation like nothing happened. peter, however, was still absolutely distraught.

there's no way he fucked this up for a second time.

and there's no way you were as forgiving with him as you were about it. a second time.

jesus christ, he needed to get his shit together.

3

it had been a few days since the coffee shop incident, and since he'd been able to get you alone. he had swung by your room, wondering if you wanted to knock out some training with him. sure, sparring wasn't the most romantic, but he was desperate for any chance that came his way at this point.

this led to the two of you being in your current position, sweaty and out of breath, taking turns swinging at each other. you weren't much of a match against peter, but training seemed like a good enough excuse for you to spend some time with him.

peter let out a grunt as he dodged your right hook, immediately sensing your follow up hit and catching your wrist mid-air.

"that's good! if you're fighting against Dum-E, maybe."

you rolled your eyes at him, a scoff escaping your throat. "yeah, right, didn't he leave you quite the egg on your forehead last week?"

"i couldn't see, tony shut the lights off on me in the lab." peter grumbled, throwing a few punches your way only for you to dodge them with ease.

"stop pulling your punches so much, parker, I'm not fragile."

peter smirked at you, letting out a mumbled "as you wish" before instantly sweeping your feet from under you and pinning you against the mat. your back hit the ground with a thud, earning a heavy whine from you as you closed your eyes.

"oh, is this what you wanted?" peter teased, feeling cocky as he held your arms on either side of your head, his hips holding yours to the mat.

you fluttered your eyes open, a breath hitching in your throat as you realized the position you were in: peter on top of you for the first time ever, nose to nose. both of you were panting, from the exercise or the situation, neither of you knew.

peter felt hot. every part of him felt so hot, and he had to actively will his blood to stay in the upper half of his body ashe hovered over you. he took a moment away from his pride to realize how he had you under him, and his senses were overwhelmed again. his ears felt like they were going to burn off the sides of his head as you looked at him, again using the moment to flicker down to his lips. he licked them subconsciously, earning a barely audible whine from you as he did.

so help me god, if you don't kiss her right now, no spider-man for a week. a week!

but despite him pleading with his body to take action, he just couldn't seem to move and seal the deal. he muttered to himself, begging his body to respond and do something.

come on, come on, come on! why?!

peter barely got to see the smirk flash across your face before you moved, quickly flipping him and switching the position to pin him and take dominance.

he let out a groan as his back hit the mat, a half cough/half laugh escaping his lips.

"fuck, (y/n),"

you gave peter a grin, releasing your grip on his wrists and climbing off of him. you extended your hand outwards, peter reluctantly grabbing it to stand.

"never let your guard down, parker. you'll lose all the control."

he let out a scoff and a "yeah whatever," as he met you face to face again. "i let that happen. so, so you could get the practice, obviously."

you placed a hand on his cheek, giving it a soft pat. "I'm sure you did, bug boy."

peter rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into him swiftly. you let out a soft gasp, your lips nearly grazing each others once again.

he leaned in so that your foreheads were pressed together, a hand still holding your wrist mid-air. he let out a deep laugh, his hot breath on your lips sending goosebumps across your skin. "funny that you think you're the one in--"

"little spider! lady (y/l/n)! i was hoping for some willing contenders this afternoon!" thor roared as he announced his presence in the gym.

peter let out a heavy sigh, dropping your wrist. "... control,"

you gave him an apologetic smile before greeting thor as he made his way over.

"holy shit, i might have to kill myself over this." peter whispered to himself.

"what was that, pete?"

"i said i think thor's going to kill us."

third time's not the fucking charm, to say the least.

4

yet another few days passed with no success on peter's front, and he was growing more worried with each passing moment that he'd never get to kiss you.

he seriously had no idea what was wrong with him and why he kept freezing, despite everything inside him pleading to just. kiss. you.

you had decided you wanted to plan the second date, finally getting to steal peter away after a week since the last time you'd gone out. on the menu for the evening was an in-house movie night in the lounge, fit with any and every star wars movie for peter to choose from. you'd brought in every pillow and blanket you'd owned, even stealing the ones from steve's bed on your way over. you loaded the couch with the bedding, shooting a text peter's way with instructions to bring drinks and to wear his pajamas. you swapped your phone for the remote, carefully getting the tv loaded as you heard footsteps enter the room.

"shit, pete you were quick, i'm kind of impressed-- oh, hey wanda!" you turned and saw the red-headed woman before you, amazed at the scene laid out in front of her.

"it looks great in here, (y/n). are you going to be watching a movie?"

you gave her a sweet smile. "yeah, peter's on his way down."

"this looks so relaxing, do you mind if vis and i join you? we're quiet movie watchers, i promise!"

you paused for a second, flashing a quick smile to hopefully hide some of your disappointment.

"oh! well, i..."

"hey (y/n), i grabbed you an apple juice, i didn't see grape in there. is this a movie night? I have a sneaking su-- oh! hey wanda, are you joining in too?" peter waltzed into the lounge, freezing when seeing both you and wanda in the designated location of his texts.

wanda looked in your direction, and you couldn't say no to that face (no matter how badly you wanted to right now).

"yeah, that's okay with me. what do you think, pete?"

he nodded quickly, hoping he was following you correctly as he hoped to grasp any context to the situation. "yeah no, i mean that's, of course."

wanda let out a squeal of excitement, rushing out of the room. "i'm going to grab vision, thanks guys! this is going to be awesome!"

you gave peter an apologetic smile as he walked closer to you, handing you the aforementioned drink.

"I didn't know we were already up to double dates." peter gave you a soft smirk.

"i didn't either," you pouted, grabbing a seat on the couch and patting the cushions next to you. "i'm sorry, pete. i'll make it up to you."

peter sat down, giving you a chuckle as he settled into the corner of the couch, grabbing your hands gently. "i'm happy wherever you are."

he was even more happy to discover the viewing of the evening was a star wars movie of his own picking.

the four of them settled in, wanda and vision wasting no time getting comfortable curling into one another. peter noticed this, feeling more at ease in putting his own arm around you. you reciprocated gladly, leaning into his side and swinging your legs over his. peter felt his sense of touch heighten by a thousand, the feeling of you against him pushing him into overdrive.

he took a deep breath to steady himself, wrapping you up tighter and focusing his best on your heartbeat. he'd never held you this close before, and he could swear it was the best thing he'd ever felt.

time passed and you and peter melted into each other, fully engrossed in the movie as you heard a rumble in his stomach. you laughed quietly, lifting your head from his chest.

"hungry, parker?"

he blushed and nodded sheepishly, hearing the giggles of wanda in the background.

"y-yeah, i guess so. i can throw on some popcorn, if you guys want some too?" he looked around the room.

vision shot up, beaming. "ah! i have just learned this recipe, allow me! i will be back momentarily." he voiced before phasing out of the room.

wanda stood up quickly. "last time he made the popcorn, we had to call the fire department. i'll be right back, keep watching!"

she ran out of the room, the frantic nature of the situation making you giggle. peter looked over to you, relief washing over him as he got to have you alone, even if just for a few minutes. that was all he needed.

you looked up to face him, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you noticed how close your faces were.

peter took a deep breath and smiled at you. "are you going to tony's gala on friday?"

you looked back up at him. "yeah, although i don't think i've got a single thing to wear. look at what i'm wearing right now, peter," you gestured downwards. "we're talking about an event that he's invited adele to."

"you're saying these sweats weren't what you had in mind? shit, i'm gonna need to rethink some things." peter made a thinking face and feigned concern.

you both laughed quietly, soaking in the presence of one another. you shiftly slightly in his lap so you could reach your hand to his curls, gently beginning to play with them. "i take that as you plan on going as well?"

he nodded against your hand, taking the other one in his own. he cleared his throat.

"i was... i was actually wondering if, if you wanted to come with me. like, as my... my date?"

your face lit up in an instant and any reservations peter held in his mind were gone. you smiled so wide it became contagious, peter grinning back at you with a shy laugh, no longer able to hold eye contact.

your hand previously in his hair dropped to his chin, earning his gaze once again. "i'd love to, peter. that sounds really fun."

at this point, your fingers were delicate on his chin and ghosting over his features, all attention focused on peter's pink lips.

he took a deep breath, taking in your proximity and touch. he was on fire again.

peter parker, she is literally touching your lips with her fingers! do something! now!

but he just sat there, breathing you in as your hand now confidently rested on his jawbone and your thumb tugged gently at his bottom lip.

but he just sat there, staring at your lips the entire time, not touching them.

"pete?" you asked as you bumped your noses together. he flickered his eyes back up to yours.

"yeah?"

you let out a shakey breath, fluttering your eyes closed. "i... i-"

your eyes shot open and you pulled back sharply. "what's that smell?"

peter let out a whine as he lost your attention, his mouth hung open.

wanda came bursting through the door. "sorry guys! just a mild fire, but we put it out! i hope you like your popcorn a little... uh, charred."

she grimaced as she handed the two of you a bowl, completely unable to read the room.

vision followed in shortly, taking his seat back next to wanda. "my sincerest apologist. all fires have been extinguished and i have alerted mr. stark about the damage to his cabinets. he has a... guy on speed dial now."

you let out a laugh, thanking them for the popcorn and turning back to face the screen, once again snuggling into peter who remained slack-jawed and in disbelief.

i'm dead. i'm dead and i'm in a state of limbo for eternity. what the actual fuck is going on.

the four of you finished the first two star wars movies before calling it quits, you admitting how tired you'd grown over the evening. peter, on the other hand, had been sulking since wanda and vision came back in almost three hours ago now.

his spirits rose slightly, however, as you kissed him on the cheek before you bid goodnight to everyone, sending him one last smile before turning the corner.

ned was NOT going to believe this one.

5

when peter had picked you up friday night and saw you in your gown, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't bother coming home if he didn't kiss you.

you were the most stunning person he'd ever seen, a red dress adorning your body in all the best ways possible.

a red dress. his color. lord. have. mercy.

the night went accordingly, both of you mingling with the rest of the team, exchanging glances at the random a-list celebrities tony had invited for... actually, peter had no idea what the gala was for. he just knew it was an excuse to dance with you, and that was absolutely all he cared about.

as time passed and peter got more one-on-one time with you, he led you to the dance floor, wildly embarrassing himself in front of everyone just to hear your laugh. it was like medicine to him, and it healed things he didn't know were broken.

the upbeat rhythm of the current song slowed, the DJ transitioning the once high-energy music into a ballad. the lights dimmed to accompany the romantic atmosphere. you looked around as everyone paired up, swaying back and forth with their partners. you met peter's gaze, which was filled with anxiety, but he did his best not to show it. he gave you a sweet smile, extending his hand out in the corniest fashion he could think of. all you could do was laugh.

"may i have this dance, m'lady?"

you stifled giggles as you took his hand. "why of course, my good sir."

peter held you close, his hands around your waist as you snaked your arms around his neck respectively. you swayed together as peter held you, staring intently into your eyes. a smile began to curl at the edge of your lips, but you stayed quiet, lost in his gaze. peter took a deep breath.

okay. now or never. you literally cannot possibly fuck this up.

but he did.

parker, why the actual fuck are you not moving right now!!! holy shit kiss her!!!

but he didn't.

and you can see the frustration in his eyes, causing you to tilt your head curiously. the action moved your face slightly closer to peters, and you flickered momentarily down to his lips, desperately trying to make yourself as clear as possible.

but instead of leaning forward with you, peter just looked at your lips with a defeated sight before flashing his gaze elsewhere around the room.

for the first time since peter had tried and failed to kiss you, he saw your smile falter. you pulled away and averted your eyes, suddenly wishing you were anywhere else than where you were. you took a step back, finally locking eyes with peter again.

you gave him a smile, but this time, it didn't meet your eyes.

holy shit, he fucked up big time.

"i'm going to grab some air, pete. just feeling a bit crowded."

you were so gentle about it, but peter knew he'd hurt you this time. he tried to protest, but you moved quickly through the crowd of people, his calls after you being lost in the rest of the noise.

he let out another defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping as he watched you walk out the balcony doors.

"peter!"

he jumped, snapping to his left to see sam and bucky approaching him. he was so not in the mood for whatever teasing was about to happen.

"you've got to be kidding me, kid."

"sam, listen i'm really not-"

bucky cut him off. "what is your problem, dude?"

"what?"

"(y/n) has practically been begging you to make a move all night, are you for fucking real right now?"

at this point, peter's angry. he wasn't sure more with himself or the guys for harassing him on this, but he was starting to get overwhelmed. everything started to grow louder, the lights suddenly brighter than they were before. peter took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to stop himself from freaking out.

"i, i-i dont know! i've been trying to kiss her for over a week now, and i just-"

"a week? spidey, just kiss the woman! why are you overthinking this so much?"

"i dont know, okay! i don't know! i just keep freezing! i feel like i'm going fucking insane, literally the only thing i want to do on this planet is kiss her right now, but i just--"

"i think you need to tell her that, not us." sam cut in. bucky followed.

"yeah, i'm pretty sure she feels like you think she's disgusting right now."

a mixture of pain and panic overtook peter's features. "nononono! but i don't think that!

"you sure aren't making much of a case for yourself right now, kid."

peter ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. "i can't, okay! what if i fuck everything up! people who are close to me get hurt, and this is a really big step that means something, and i can't have her getting hurt."

bucky clapped him on the shoulder. "pete, you've always been the closest pair i know, even before you started dating. i don't know how to tell you this, but you might as well also get to kiss her."

sam smacks bucky across the chest, throwing a disapproving look his way. "that's not quite what he--"

"no. he's kind of right. maybe it really is that simple."

both of the guys gave peter an unconvinced look.

"really. i mean, she's already my best friend. she's already one of the closest people to me." peter looked up at bucky. "i mean, might as well get to kiss her too, right?"

bucky smirked at the younger boy, nodding his head slowly. "that's the spirit."

"i don't know if that's the full spir-" sam cut himself off with a sigh. "listen kid, i'm glad you're not freaking out over this anymore, but remember to still-"

"gotta go kiss a girl, thanks guys!" peter yelled as he began to run through the crowd towards to balcony you were on.

sam sighed and gave an unamused look at bucky.

"'might as well kiss her'? that's your chivalry?"

"clearly he knew exactly what i meant."

"don't highroad me right now."

+1

peter nearly burst through the balcony doors, breathless and relieved to see you still out there.

you turned back to look at him, a smile washing over your features as you noticed it was peter out there with you. you were kind as ever, greeting him by name, but there was a sadness lingering in your eyes.

he approached you hastily, immediately reaching out for your hands as soon as he was within reach. you took them gladly, an inquisitive look settling on your face.

"i'm not going to fuck this up again." he panted.

you shot him a look. "what?"

he pulled you in close before his monologue:

"(y/n), i'm so stupid. i should've kissed you. i should've kissed you so many times by now, and i haven't. i havent kissed you yet despite it being literally the only thing i've wanted to do for the past week and a half. and that's so fucking stupid."

he took a step to reposition himself.

"this, i-i mean, you have given me some really big emotions after I've experienced a great deal of loss, and... and i think that's been a little hard to navigate. but i don't want it to be. i really like feeling this way with you. and i really want to kiss you."

you let out a soft chuckle as you shyed away from his forwardness, a blush raging across your cheeks. you felt peter's finger lift your chin to face him, and you met his eyes once more.

"(y/n), i cannot fucking believe that i didn't kiss you.

how... how do you feel about me, now?"

you felt like your heart was going to burst. you felt grateful for all the times he didn't kiss you so that you could be here in this moment, right now.

peter swore he'd never seen you smile bigger than at that moment. before he could even reciprocate, you grabbed him and pulled him in by his tie, finally connecting your lips for the first time. peter melted into you immediately, his hands flying up to hold the sides of your face as though he was afraid to lose you. you snaked your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, reassuring him you were exactly where you wanted to be.

after what felt like the shortest lifetime, you pulled away in a gasp for air, earning a chuckle from peter. he took a step back, mouth agape as he admired you in your entirety. he gave you a sweet smile before another soft peck on your lips, his contagious smile bleeding into the kiss.

with your foreheads pressed together, peter took a deep breath, a laugh interrupting the exhale. you looked up.

"what?"

"i just can't believe we could've been doing that this whole time."

"i think this one was worth the wait."

[mugglebornmarvelite]

A Valentine’s Day to Remember

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader

Summary: On Valentine’s Day, your training session with Bucky is no different. He’s tough on you, but you appreciate his guidance. However, a little interruption leads to a sweet surprise later that evening. Based on this request!

Word Count: Roughly 1.6k

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, slight angst (so slight that it’s barely there), awkwardness, unspoken feelings, the reader's anxious thoughts, protective Bucky, training (it wasn’t that great, but I wanted to write it for some cute tension), comical violence, playful chaos (it’s the Avengers after all)

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request. I tweaked it a little bit in the hopes of making it sweet and funny. @jackys-stuff-blog

I’m back, so enjoy more Valentine’s Day content :)

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics 

The hum of the facility was peaceful, but the energy bouncing around inside you was anything but.

When you got out of bed, you glanced at the calendar. 

February 14th

You sighed and got ready to start your day.

You were still new to the team, only a few weeks into training with the Avengers. 

It was a potent mixture of excitement, fear, and joy wrapped in one.

You gave it your best shot, but every day, you felt like you fell just short of the bar set by the seasoned heroes around you. 

The Avengers were the best of the best, and sometimes it felt like they were trying to break you, push you past your limits, and then push some more. 

Bucky Barnes, in particular, was harder on you than anyone else. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but he cared. Not just because you were younger but because you were different. 

Sweet, shy, a little sunshine in a place that sometimes felt too dark.

You didn’t mind so much. You didn’t want to be perfect, but you wanted to prove to the team, especially Bucky, that you could hold your own. 

But training with Bucky means it’s going to be a long morning.

“Come on, kid,” Bucky said, his eyes locked on yours after you finished his warmups, which felt more like the entirety of a workout routine. “You can do better than that.”

“I am trying,” you said with a huff. 

You felt the weight of his gaze and had to resist the urge to fidget under it. His words made you feel small. You wanted to prove yourself to him. You wanted him to believe you could hold your own.

His lips twitched in a small, teasing smile. “You’ve gotta do better than that if you want to make it out there with the rest of us.”

You nodded and shifted your stance.

When his hand shot out to grab you, you reacted, trying to block, but he was faster. Bucky spun you around, twisting your arm behind your back. 

You grunted as you found your back pressed against his chest, his body flush against yours, his grip tightening around your wrist.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. 

“I… I wasn’t ready,” you stammered, embarrassed as you struggled to break free, but Bucky only chuckled.

“You never are,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement, “But you will be soon. Don’t worry, sunshine. I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his words seemed to melt the tension in your chest, but your heart still hammered in your ears, the proximity between you two making it hard to think straight. 

With a swift, practiced move, Bucky released you from his grip and pushed you lightly away. You stumbled back a few steps, regaining your footing. 

He was already readying himself for the next move, his steely blue eyes sharp again.

“Again,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

You nodded, trying to shake off the lingering heat from his touch, but it was impossible to ignore. You lunged at him, trying to catch him off guard.

He moved effortlessly, dodging your lunge. His flipped you flat on your back, and before you could react, Bucky was there, pinning you to the mat, his metal arm hovering over your chest.

He leaned down slightly, his face hovering just above yours. “You really need to work on your form,” he muttered.

You swallowed hard, heat flooding your cheeks. You could feel every inch of him above you.

“Not bad for someone like you,” Bucky said, his voice low, a hint of pride in his words. “But next time, try not to get flipped so easily.”

You chuckled nervously, still breathless beneath him. “Yeah… I’ll try,” you whispered, your voice softer than you intended.

There was a strange kind of intimacy in the air, as the world had quieted around you. Your eyes locked for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

But before either of you could say anything, a voice from the doorway broke the moment.

“Am I interrupting something?” Wanda asked as she strolled into the room, watching the two of you with a knowing smile.

You scrambled to sit up, feeling the awkward tension in the air as Bucky stood and offered you a hand, which you gratefully accepted.

“We were just about to finish this sparring session,” Bucky muttered.

“Oh, a sparring session, huh?” Wanda smile. “I didn’t realize they was that intense.” She turned her gaze to you, the corners of her lips curling into a grin. “So, any plans after this? Maybe a last-minute date? There are a lot of nice places around here, you know.”

You shook your head, slightly flustered. “I’m just going to stay in tonight,” you said softly. “Maybe watch a movie.”

“Stay in?” Wanda’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s Valentine’s day. How about a date with a guy your age, maybe?” She flashed Bucky a pointed, subtle look, just enough to make the air shift. “I could set up something.”

You didn’t catch it, but Bucky’s expression darkened almost instantly. He stepped forward, his jaw tightening, and shot Wanda a sharp look. “No, she said she’s not interested in a date. And you need to stop trying to push that on her.”

Wanda raised both hands, feigning innocence. “Alright, alright. Just trying to make sure the poor girl doesn’t miss out on anything.”

She turned and walked out of the room, but not before sending Bucky a lingering glance that left him looking slightly annoyed.

You, on the other hand, were oblivious to the exchange. You simply smiled at Bucky, trying to shake off the odd tension in the room.

“I’m sorry…” You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought.

Bucky sighed, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. “It’s not your fault.”

“I-,” you started softly, though you were unsure what had just happened. But before you could dwell on it, Bucky clapped you on the shoulder.

“You’re fine, sunshine.” Bucky smiled. “Let’s get back to it.”

The warmth of his words lingered in the air long after Wanda left, and you found yourself wishing that the conversation had gone a little differently. But it was hard to focus on that when Bucky’s quiet reassurance made you feel special in a way you hadn’t expected.

Later that evening, fresh out of a long, soothing shower and wrapped in pajamas, you were met with quiet as you made your way downstairs. 

For the most part, everyone was out celebrating the holiday of love. But your plans included stuffing your face and watching comedies on the giant flat-screen TV.

Your plans stopped when you found Peter sprawled out on the couch, grinning from ear to ear. He was holding up a large box.

"Hey! Got a delivery for you!" Peter announced, his voice practically singing.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

He gave you a mischievous smirk. “Dunno, but it’s got your name on it.”

Taking the box from his hands, you carefully opened it. 

Inside was a beautiful bouquet of wild daisies, lavender, and sunflowers, as well as a massive box of chocolates, wrapped with a level of neatness that had to be intentional.

There was a card that said, “Hope this makes your day a little sweeter, sunshine.” No name, but you had a very good idea of who it was from.

Before you could even process it, a voice came from behind you.

“You look surprised.” Bucky’s voice cut through the silence. 

Turning around, you found him standing in the doorway.

“I didn’t…” you started, but your words trailed off. 

The fact that he had gone to all this trouble for you meant something, didn’t it?

Bucky closed the space between you with a few long strides, and before you could think of anything else, he wrapped you in a hug, pulling you close to his chest. “You deserve it,” he murmured, kissing your forehead softly. His voice was warm, like melted chocolate, making your heart swell.

Bucky gently pulled back, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Let’s watch a movie, yeah?” Bucky asked, his voice smooth, like he knew he was about to make everything even better.

You nodded, still reeling from the sweet surprise. The day had been a chaotic mess of training and tension, but Bucky's thoughtful gesture made it feel like it was all worth it.

As you settled onto the couch, Bucky’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you melted against his side.

The movie began, but honestly, you weren’t even paying attention. All you could focus on was how perfect this was until Peter suddenly released an exaggerated “Ahem!” trying to get a peek at what was happening between you two.

Before you could even laugh, Bucky, without missing a beat, grabbed a vase off the table and threw it straight at Peter’s head. 

Not to inflict too much bodily injury, but definitely enough to scatter him like a cockroach when the lights come on.

Peter’s spidey sense kicked in just in time, and he shot a web to the ceiling, narrowly avoiding the vase. “Okay, okay! I get it! I’m clearly not wanted! I’m going!” He scrambled upstairs.

You let out a soft laugh, and Bucky grumbled under his breath, but there was a slight curve to his lips as he glanced at you. His arm pulled you even closer, and just like that, everything was perfect again. 

Except for the vase, but that was just a minor detail.

“WHO BROKE MY FAVORITE VASE?”

Or, not so minor.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp @winchestert101 @thatesqcrush @bamitzzsam @grubler @peaches1958 @helen-2003 @ickearmn @Kimmie113080 @Xgbtmdmx @buckysbunnie @Shower-me-with-roses @pigeonmama @civilbucky @piinksdoll

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH [cult member peter parker x reader]

pairings: dark! peter parker x reader

blurb/part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after losing your family, your friends, and your boyfriend, Peter Parker casually crashes in your life out of nowhere. His presence was welcoming, as his so-called village is too. But his hospitality seems to have something darker underneath

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ NON-CON/DUB-CON (RAPE), heavy manipulation, toxic relationship, cult beliefs, oral (fem receiving), drugging (use of an aphrodisiac), p in v, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, mild violence, mentions of death, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied murder. lemme know if I missed any. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

a/n: this is loosely based on Midsommar, it's a really good movie. I have changed some stuff that i didn't feel comfortable writing or I just didn't want to write. Also this maybe the worst smut you've ever read probably. don't steal any of my shit or I'll steal ur head.

"I'm sorry sissy, the darkness is consuming me, and I will take them with me"

Those were the last texts your sister sent you. You were worried sick about her cryptic message and wanted disclosure from her, but she hasn't written back.

Your sister has been known to be a rather mentally challenged person. She was just venting to you. Right?

It was unnaturally still in the air, sitting at your kitchen table with the phone pressed close to your ear. Your fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against the edge of the table, still collapsed trying to ground yourself. All night, your sister has not picked up her phone. The strange text messages she had sent earlier in the day replayed like a broken record in your mind.

How many times have you been thinking of something really wrong, more than you would admit, but still dismissing it?

Somehow tonight felt different.

You texted Harry to reassure you, but the typical unsympathetic reply only served to add more weight to that chest heaviness again. Now you are left alone with your thoughts, and each one seems darker than the other.

You were about to not pick the phone because it looked like a spam call to you. The number was unknown, but that gut feeling inside you made you press accept.

"Hello?" Your voice dared as you strove to steady it.

The unknown caller said your name as they spoke, "Is this her?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried a cold detachment that made your stomach drop.

"Yes," you replied.

"This is Officer Hill with the NYPD. I'm sorry to tell you we've had an incident regarding your family," she said.

Air disappeared from your lungs suddenly, and your grip tightened against the phone. "What kind of incident?"

"I understand this is tough," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But I need you to come to the station. It's better to speak in person."

The issue of reality has been stretched and heavy between you, and it was so unbearable. “No,” you spoke finally in a panic voiding interiorly. “Please, just tell me now. What happened?”

There was a moment's hesitation in Hill's case. In that moment, you could feel the world starting to crack around you.

"There is no easy way to say this," she finally managed to come up with. "Your parents and sister were involved in a fatal accident. I am so sorry."

You could not comprehend those words for a moment. They swayed in the air outside with an unreal and incomprehensible quality. "What do you mean? Are they okay? What—"

"They didn't survive," Hill said softly, and that cut through your spiraling questions.

The phone fell from your hand and banged tipsily on the table. To this resonating rattle in the small space, however, your ear was tuned out. Your chest tightened, and the phrase ran in your brain, echoing in shallow gasps.

They didn't survive.

The days that followed the funeral just passed in a haze of hollow condolences and noise deafening silence. Your world had been torn apart while everything moved forward—all relentless and lame. Harry, your boyfriend of 2 years stayed as he assured you, but his presence seemed more of a fulfillment of an obligation than any comfort.

He was not exactly a cruel person; at least not really overt, for distance was a high-dubious chasm with every awkward conversation and with every minute spent by him scrolling through his phone instead of talking to you. Not blind are you to those glances he exchanged with his buddies once they assumed you weren't watching. There is pity instead of love and comfort in his eyes whenever you cry.

The last straw fell on a quiet Friday evening. You had dragged yourself to the apartment of Harry, looking for refuge in his presence after yet another sleepless night. He was lounging in the couch with one hand gripping a phone while the other was a beer.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," you admitted softly and settled next to him. Your voice cracked, and at last, the tears that were kept in were poured out. "I don't know how to do this without them. I don't know how to… keep going."

Harry glanced towards your direction, the look on his face inscrutable. After that, he set his phone down and fell into this heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, okay? But you can't keep unloading things like this on me. It's…it's too much."

Your heart sank. "Too much?"

"I'm not your therapist," he said in defensive. "I don't know what you want me to do. I can't fix this for you."

"I'm not asking you to fix it!" You snapped while accepting the anger that had replaced the hurt. "I just need you to be here. To actually care."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he diverted his gaze from her, tightening his jaw. "This isn't fair," he muttered.

"What do you mean fair!?" you yelled, your volume rising. "Me grieving my whole family? It isn't as terrible as needing the person who's supposed to love me to act and comfort me?"

Harry stood up immediately and started pacing the tiny living room. "I didn't sign up for this," he said. The words cut like knives. "I feel like… like I'm drowning too. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but here you are, pulling me under."

Your breath literally caught in your throat at that last sentence, as if a blow on the physical plane had hit home. "Is that really how you see me? As one who drags you down?" You asked in disbelief.

However, he stopped pacing and turned toward you, shoulders sagging. "I don't know," he said more quietly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. My friends tell me I should end it. They say I can't do this to myself. But I thought, you know, that might help."

"Help?" you echoed, voice breaking. "You think pity keeping me would help? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Harry looked away. "Well, I'm sorry! alright!? It's not like I want to be part of your fuckin tenth reason in your suicide note!". Guilt was scrawled across his face when those words left his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You stood waveringly. Nevertheless, your voice remained firm. "If this is too much for you, then spit it out. Be frank for once, Harry."

He hesitated, his silence answering the question you hadn't dared to ask outright.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Well, that's what I figured."

You took your bag and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you just before the torrent of tears fell as you stumbled down the street. For the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. Sure, Harry wasn't the best boyfriend, but now you didn't have family, Harry, heck, you don't even have friends to pat you in the back and tell you it's alright.

You were truly alone, crying in the middle of the streets.

A week later, at the dinner party of an old classmate's friend, Peter Parker walks into your life.

Peter wasn't meant to be there—he admitted that soon after you started the talk. "I kind of crashed this," he confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard there was free food, and, uh… I have no self-control."

You laughed against your will. It was a real laugh that felt vaguely familiar after weeks of grief.

He was awkward but charming, with rapid tumbling out of words out of his mouth as he tried to start a small talk. "So, uh, how do you know Sam? Are you a friend from work? Oh wait, no, you don't look old enough to work with him—wait, not that you look like a kid or anything. I just meant—"

"It's okay," you interrupted, smile still there regardless. "I get it. I am also kinda crashing here, I never really got a proper invite, I just found out from one of my old classmates that there was a party, now here I am"

The more you could talk to him, the more you would discover how easy it was to be in his company. Unlike Harry, who had always been polished and withdrawn, Peter was frank and genuine, emotions laid out for all to see.

And by the end of the night, he had known your family. You had not intended to tell him, but somehow the way he listened— actually listened— made it spill out.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said softly, voice laced thickly with empathy. "That is… I can't even imagine what you're going through. But, if you ever need someone to talk to—or like, someone to distract you with dumb jokes—I'm here."

You've been taken aback by his earnestness. Finally, after what felt like years, someone might have noticed you.

It was indeed one of those nights which made time stretch out into eternity. You were there with Peter on a park bench where the faint light of the flickering city lights was shining through dense bushes and trees. The air was crisp, a cool kind that could very much seep into one's bones, yet Peter's company made it bearable.

He had this way of filling the silence without forcing it: sometimes talking, rambling on about whatever random thought invaded his head, sometimes just sitting with a person comfortable in the quiet, and today, he was acting especially thoughtful, staring at some faraway towers protruding above the skyline.

"Can I ask you something?" he suddenly blurted out, breaking the stillness.

"Sure."

He hesitated, bit his bottom lip as if he couldn't decide how to start, and began speaking. "Do you ever feel like…I don't know, like you're stuck?"

You blinked. It caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Like everybody around you is moving ahead, but you're just there standing still," he explained, his words pretty crumbling out in that earnest, awkward way of his. "Like no matter what you do, you can't catch up."

The question was a little more awkward for you than you'd expected. "Yeah," you quietly admitted. "too many times than how I want it to be"

"It's tiring" he said, his eyes still far. "I get that. After my uncle… well died, after all that, I felt like I was trapped in this… I don't know, this loop. So, I couldn't allow myself to be happy because it would feel wrong, you know? Like I didn't deserve it."

You were gaping at him, flabbergasted by his openness. Peter was not the kind to talk much about himself—not like this, anyway.

"How did you get out of it?" you asked in a soft voice.

He smiled faintly. "I didn't. Not really. But I found something that helped."

"What was it?"

Peter gazed upward at the stars. "My hometown. It's a little dot in the middle of nowhere on the map. Quiet, kind of old-fashioned place. But there's something… something grounding."

He stopped for a brief while, casting a doubtful glance at you. "I go back every summer. It's like hitting a reset button or something. And, uh… would you want to join me this year?"

Totally unexpected. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly, blushing in the face of it. "If you want to. No pressure, or anything. Just you have been through a lot, and I thought maybe time away might help or something. It's not fancy or anything—definitely not the kind of place with five-star hotels—but it's peaceful. And I'd be there, so… you wouldn't be alone."

At his words, your throat became somewhat tight. He was not offering a vacation. He was inviting you to an escape.

"I don't know," You finally ventured with a little quiver of voice. "What if I just feel worse?"

"You won't," Peter said firmly, his brown eyes locking onto yours. "I won't let you."

There was something so genuine about the way he said it, like he truly believed he could protect you from the weight of your grief.

"What is it like?" you asked, helpless curiosity walking over your hesitation.

Peter's eyes set aglow at that moment, brimming over with a lot of excitement. "Oh gosh! Now where do I even begin? Okay, so there's this diner right in the middle of town. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Beck. They've been married for like fifty years or something, and they make the fluffiest pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. And then there's this old library. Small, yes, but it has this weird charm, you know? Everything is crooked, and half the books are falling apart, but I love it. Oh, and there's this great big field just outside of town—it's perfect to stargaze because you can see the Milky Way out there. It's insane."

Now he was practically bouncing out of his seat, his enthusiasm almost contagious.

"It sounds… amazing," you found yourself admitting. A small smile tugged your lips.

"It's amazing," Peter said earnestly. "And I think you would love it. Everyone is so welcoming there. It's like… a little bubble of goodness in this horrible world sometimes."

For just a moment, you let yourself imagine it, far from the city and the reminders of everything that had been lost, somewhere I might again breathe.

"Okay," you said finally, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really? You're going to come?"

"Yeah," you said, surprising even yourself. "I think I need this."

"Trust me; you won't regret it," Peter continued, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't fix everything. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it was enough to know you wouldn't be facing it alone.

It was a surreal feeling about the trip toward Peter's hometown. It was almost a relief because you sensed that you were really leaving everything behind, even thought it was just a few weeks. Driving in a comfortable pattern with Peter talking animatedly about all of the town's strange things, while you listened and occasionally chimed in with a question or a laugh at one of his goofy replies.

As you drove farther from the city and the scenery opened to rolling hills and dense forests before you, Peter shifted in his seat to adjust the radio. The soft tune filled the car and merged with the sounds of the tires over the road.

"You are going to love it," Peter said, glancing at you with an innocent smile. "Air's so fresh it nearly smells fake, and the stars. They're nothing like anything you've ever seen before. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, smiling despite the nervous knot still twisting about in your chest.

The town came into view just about the time the sun started sinking, dipping the horizon in gold and pinks. It was a little bit smaller than you had in mind, the kind of place that probably knew everyone by name.

Peter slowed the car as you entered the main street, which was lined with quaint buildings that appeared to have been plucked from another era. A few of the local's whereabouts were either on their porches talking, in their gardens working, or taking their dogs out for a walk. They would almost wave at Peter as they drove past.

"See? Told you. Nicest people on the planet," said Peter returning the waves enthusiastically.

"No shit," you said, watching a woman coming across with a basket of flowers smile toward you warmly.

Peter stopped in a graveled driveway leading to a homely two-storied fairy tale house. Crooked white picket fence and wildflower-laden garden, there was little that screamed charm.

The moment the car stopped, from the front door, she came, a petite woman in her 30's with brown hair, beaming with kindness in her eyes and warmth in her smile.

"There's my darling nephew!" she called out.

Peter jumped out of the car, practically bounding onto her, hugging her. "Aunt May!"

"And you must be the girl Peter keeps talking about," she said, her bright eyes finding their way to you. "Peter has told me so much about you."

"Oh, um, hi," you said, stepping out of the car and giving a small wave.

"Then that's it," she said, surprising with her strong hug for her small figure. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Come in! It's rather hot out here during the summers"

Once you stepped into the house, you were met with interior that was as cozy as anyone could expect, the design suggests mixes between vintage and modern furniture, with colorful throw blankets and knickknacks making it feel lived in. There was also a faint waft of freshly baked cookies, which you soon spotted on the kitchen counter.

"Make yourself at home," May said, "Your room's already set up upstairs. Peter can show you around."

"Thanks May," Peter replied, already grabbing your bag before you could protest.

Up came Peter, leading you to a small but cozy guest room overlooking the backyard.

"Hope that's cool," said Peter, dropping your bag next to the bed. "Not fancy, but it's quiet."

"It's perfect," you said, placing your backside on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to breathe.

In the following days, Peter became your own personal tour guide, leading you through the town every nook and cranny, and introduced you to everyone as if you were already a part of the community, and to your surprise, they all welcomed you with open arms

Mr. and Mrs. Beck would insist on serving you their best pancakes while there at the diner even after breakfast time.

"We have heard so much about you," Mrs. Beck said it with a twinkle in her eyes. "Peter's nearly counting the days until you came."

Peter turned red and scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mrs. Beck. Subtle as always."

Library, this was to be; the charmingly ramshackle structure seemed to sag under the weight of its many books. Peter's eyes lit up as he walked through those rows of crooked shelves with his fingers trailing over the spines.

"This here was my escape growing up," he said, pulling a worn copy of The Hobbit from the shelf. "Any time things got… overwhelming, I'd come here. Just me, a book, and a whole lot of silence."

This was the kind of moment when one caught a glimpse into Peter's world of quiet, reflective, introspective thinking where the depths beneath the sunshine state, as always, reside.

The very field that Peter had described so vividly turned out to be even more breathtaking than you ever imagined. The grass stretched out in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze, and the sky above was that of a canvas painted with stars, brighter and bolder than he had ever seen.

With a dramatic sigh, Peter flopped onto the ground, patting a spot next to him. "Come on, you're not getting the full experience unless you lie down."

You hesitated to lie down beside him, letting the cool grass tickle your arms as you stared up at the infinite expanse of sky.

"Wow," you breathed.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head towards you. "It's like the universe decided to show off or something."

They lay there silently for a good while with the sound of the rustling grass and an occasional chirp of crickets. That was the most peaceful you had felt in a long, long time.

Maybe it was a little initial self-talk that told you it was just small town hospitality. People in cities don’t wave at strangers, though maybe that’s simply what people do out here. Maybe they were just genuinely curious about a stranger in a little place where everyone knows everyone.

But as the day went on, those small gestures, those innocent jests began to feel… different.

It started out slow.

At the diner, Mrs. Beck lingered longer than she ought to while refilling your coffee, her smile warm but sharp, penetrating eyes boring onto you.

"You're feeling like one of us already, aren't you?" she would have said, almost as if it were a statement rather than a question.

You gave a polite smile with no idea of how to answer. "Uh, yeah, everybody's really welcomed here."

"Oh, good," she said, with a firm nod. "That's what we want."

There's something in the way she said it, words weighing a lot more than they were supposed to.

And so it went; the Becks household was not the only one. The pattern held true for nearly every encounter.

"How are you settling in?"

Not "welcome" or "hi and how long are you staying?" The last kind of question you would expect from someone meeting a newcomer. The question, however, assumed permanence. It assumed that you were settling in, that you live here now.

Initially, you passed it off as just another one of those quirks that could be attributed to small-town hospitality. Maybe that's just their way of being polite. But after a few more days, it became pretty hard to ignore the repetition.

You brought it up to Peter one morning as the two of you sat on May's porch, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

"Is it just me," you began, keeping your tone light, "or does everyone here ask the same question?"

Peter looked up from his mug, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What question?"

"How I'm 'settling in.' Like, literally everyone has said it."

"Oh, that?" Peter chuckled, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "That's just how people are around here. Small towns, you know? Everyone's in everyone else's business, and they just want to make sure you're happy. It's aggressively wholesome."

You nodded while struggling to let his explanation take root in you, but that feeling of unease lingered.

Then came the presents.

The librarian insisted that you check out a copy of Little Women, even if you just went there to browse.

"You'll love it," she said, sliding it over the counter to you with a knowing smile.

"How do you know?" you asked, only half-joking.

Her smile didn't waver. "I just do."

At the hardware store, the owner gave you a tiny potted shrub. "Every home needs a little bit of green," he said cheerfully, but his eyes had a dark intensity that made him more intimidating.

"Thanks," you mumbled awkwardly, holding the plant as you walked out.

It was the kind of gift given to a father like you, not at all because you wanted it, but so they could wave it in your face.

The real breaking point occurred one night at the diner.

Peter was treating you to dinner there after spending the afternoon wandering around town. It was quieter than usual, the counter occupied only by a few regulars. The place smelled of coffee and fries, and while Peter was busy demolishing a plate of the latter, you excused yourself to go to the washroom.

The hallway at the back of the diner is dark and narrow, the overhead fluorescent lights humming in slightly grating tones. At the door marked "Women," you caught snatches of voices from the kitchen-garbled, urgent.

"…And she's settling in?"

"She seems fine so far. Peter's doing a good job keeping her comfortable."

You were frozen with your hand on the doorknob. Your pulse raced. "Good, she has to feel like she belongs, it's important."

Then there was a crashing sound of many dishes, followed by a long heavy pause.

"So," says the first voice, "you think she suspects anything?"

"No. Not yet."

There, silence fell between the voices after that, then just the faintest clink—the sound of silverware-and the quick pounding of your heartbeat resounded in your ears.

When you stepped back to the table, Peter's easy smile greeted you. "Everything cool?" he asked as he dipped a fry into ketchup. "Yeah," you said quickly as you slid into your seat. "Fine."

The mind remained racing.

They must be talking about someone else—a new hire at the diner. Maybe a new family into town. There was no way they were talking about you.

Right?

You tried to shake it off, sinking into Peter's chatter about the upcoming festival, but the unease clung to you like a second skin.

May's small guest room became so beautiful in the rays of the morning sun that they filtered through lace curtains and softly flecked the walls. You stared ridiculously at the ceiling, a heavy weight on your chest, making sleep unusually elusive. Thoughts had been just too loud and tangled.

Those whispers from the diner, the rehearsed kindness from townspeople, and the way he seemed to brush it all off so easily were elusive things you couldn't shake off. The most you told yourself was that it was probably nothing.

This is what you told yourself as you forced yourself out of bed and down the stairs. Peter wouldn't lie to you; he was the most genuine person you knew. Right?

The smell of pancakes and coffee greeted you in the kitchen.

By the stove stood Peter, his hair at odd angles and humming a tune under his breath. For a moment, you let yourself relax. This is Peter, your Peter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted, grinning at you with that boyish grin. He slid over a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries.

"Morning," you replied, low enough to be heard.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep much," you tugged and picked little at your food.

"Frowning," Peter said and kept down his fork. "Anything troubling you?"

"No," you lied quickly. "Just one of those nights."

He studied you for a moment, and you forced a small smile. Whatever the unease was, there was no reason for dragging Peter into it. He'd just dismiss it as he always did.

At last, the day was spent in a well-practiced blur of activities. It seemed Peter had made up his mind to keep you as busy as possible, even dragging you around the town park and to that creek he used to catch tadpoles as a kid. And if that weren't enough, he picked you up from the bakery where the sweet aroma of pastries was very strong. Offering you so many pastries till your stomach ached

Evening had cloaked the house in darkness, and so much for bottled up emotions. After dinner, the two of you sat alone in the living room: May well and truly off to bed. And that left you here with Peter sprawled across the couch flipping through some book, while you closed yourself into a tight little knot in the armchair.

"Peter," you broke the silence.

He blinked up at you with alarmed eyes. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

His brows knitted slightly, but he set aside the book. "Sure. What is it?"

You pause, heart racing. "Last night at the diner I heard something. Two people in the kitchen were talking about me."

Peter's face remained impassive. Still in his eyes, there was a flicker of something that disappeared as quickly as the light.

"What did they say?"

"They said you were doing a good job keeping me comfortable. That I need to feel like I belong." You paused, faltering with your voice. "Peter, what does that mean?"

Peter leaned forward, dangling his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing, they were probably just being nosy. People here care about each other, and when someone new comes in, they get… curious."

"That is not how it sounded," you said shaking your head. "It sounded like, intentional. It sounded much like plotting."

"You're overthinking this" Peter sighed rubbing back on his neck "Seriously, this town—it's different—close-knit. They just want to ensure you feel welcome, happy here, nothing but that".

“Then why does it feel so fake?” you pressed, raising your voice. “Everyone acts like they already know me. Like they’re expecting something to come from me.”

Peter tensed his jaw, and then he did not speak anything for a moment. He then stood up suddenly. "I brought you here for your help," he said in a hard tone. "I brought you here so you might begin a fresh mental state, a place where you could heal. And instead of appreciating it, you are looking for ways to tear it apart."

"I didn't ask for this!" you shot back, standing as well. "I didn't ask to be dragged into some town where everyone acts like I'm part of some… some secret club!"

Peter turned to you, eyes flashing. "You didn't have to ask! You were falling apart. You needed this. And I've been trying my best to make things easier for you, but you can't even see that, can you?"

The words hit you like a slap. Staring at him, breathless, tears filling your eyes. "Peter… why are you doing this?"

He softened immediately, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—look, I just… I care about you. I hate seeing you so lost. I thought bringing you here would help, but maybe I was wrong."

You wiped your eyes, and the mind is busy with thoughts. Maybe he is right. Maybe you are over-reacting. Peter was not that manipulative. He was just worried.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice shaky. "But if this town is so great, then why does it feel like there is something you are not telling me?"

Peter's eyes drifted towards the window momentarily—as if to check whether there were eavesdroppers outside—"It is not like that," he said, whispering faintly barely audible.

"Then tell me what it is," you said. "If you want me to trust you, then stop keeping secrets."

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"And that's supposed to mean what?"

He moved closer, looking you straight in the eye. "Some things are better demonstrated rather than told," he said, his tone even more pleading. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just…give me another day."

You gawked at him, feeling your belly tie up in knots. Every instinct in you screamed to demand answers right now, but for some reason, the look in his eyes stopped you. He looked… desperate.

"Fine," you said with reluctance. "One more day."

Peter nodded, a relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said almost inaudibly. "I assure you, it will all come into perspective soon."

But climbing into bed that night only made more pronounced the doubts gnawing at you louder than they had done before.

The cold, crisp evening air wrapped tight around you like a noose, as they led Peter into the woods. Try as you might to ignore the uncomfortable hollow in your gut, the longer you sat in this strange, unsettling village, the more you felt that something dark ran underneath it all. Every villager's smile, how they seemed to know just a little too much about you—everything just felt orchestrated, perfect.

You had held the doubts to yourself, buried deep down because Peter had always been the perfect anchor. But tonight, something flickered in his eyes—his tense shoulders and that almost undetectable flash of something darker crossing his face—told you that you were no longer in control.

You entered the clearing, gasping for air by the time you stepped into the structure resembling a stone chapel. The door agonizingly creaked open, bringing in the cold air from outside in juxtaposition with the stifling heat within. There, illuminated softly, were the others. A few you recognized from the eerily quiet familiar faces that watched you through predatory eyes.

It felt thick and heavy in the air, almost stultifying. The walls were closing in, and the silence was becoming almost oppressive. Peter gently but firmly drew you forward, his comforting presence still providing warmth, though everything else seemed wrong.

He was more weathered and older than you imagined, the drawn skin of his face tight over sharp features, pale and unblinking eyes matching his face. The robe hung dark and almost blended into shadows as he approached you. A murmur swept through the people gathered, and you paid little attention. Everything spun in your head and your heart drummed against your ears.

"Peter," said the man with a voice which grated like a rusty hinge, as if he had been whispering for years. "She has come."

Peter's eyes had been fixed on you for some time, and now he nodded slowly. The heat of his gaze made your skin crawl. The man checked you out from head to toe, and his intense eyes seemed to promise a lot of something. "Perfect," he said under his breath but not for too long so that others could hear him as he shouted, "She is the one. It's time."

Time, just like that word, seemed hollow, reverberating in the air around you like a bad omen. Instead, you opened your mouth to argue or question what part of this was really happening, but then, Peter squeezed your shoulder so tightly that it felt like it might crush your bones.

"It's okay," he whispered against your ear with his very warm breath. "I'll explain everything. You'll understand soon enough."

But understanding was the last thing you wanted to happen. All you had in mind was running. The man stepped forward, never breaking the eye contact. "Our village has managed to survive for many centuries and still thrive at its odds. But there is one rule that we have to abide by—there is one rule that can't be broken. After every eighteen years, one of our own must depart from this world and find someone in the outside world—from beyond these walls to someone pure."

Your mouth went dry. "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Every time a child turns eighteen, he must leave for a period of time to spend in the world outside, learn its ways; but after this period, he must return, and he must bring someone from the outside to add to the village."

Your body suddenly turned ice cold. "What do you mean, bring someone from the outside?" You spluttered. Your voice barely made an impression on the silence.

The smile of the man became broad. "A new family member. A mate. Someone to whom they will get married, with whom they will create children. This is the law."

You turned to Peter with wide eyes filled with horror as your heart stuttered deep in your chest. "What do you mean… a mate? You want me to…?"

Peter tightened his grip on your shoulder and breathed shallowly. "That's how it is done. This is how we survive. The village needs strong new blood. The children produced from these unions keep the bloodline pure, preventing inbreeding."

Inbreeding. That one word roared through your mind like no other thought. You couldn't breathe. You felt suffocated under the weight of all that.

"What… what are you saying?" you gasped, stunned and unable to take in everything being revealed to you.

Peter stepped even closer; eyes dark with something almost predatory. "That's how this works. You're part of the plan now. You have no choice. You are here because you were chosen. You are going to help us keep the village alive. Our survival depends on… "

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward as you tried to retreat. "No, this isn't right. You can't—this isn't—"

And suddenly, an old man stepped beside you, his shadowy tallness overshadowing you. "You will understand soon. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Every child who leaves returns with someone. And they will mate, they will bear children. This is how we preserve our people, how we protect our bloodline." He said as if it was your duty, as if this was your destiny.

"No!" You screamed tearing the air with your voice now choked in emotions. "This is insane! You're insane!"

The gentleness from Peter that used to soothe you all vanished, replaced by the steely resolve. He took another step forward, and instinctively you recoiled. "I did not want you to have this," he said, his voice low and strained, "but it is how it is. You will come to understand, and you will see that it is for the best."

The other villagers watched you with silent intensity as the space surrounding you felt as if it were closing in on you, with walls pressing from all sides. You could feel their hungry and expectant eyes on you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to yell.

But as soon as the old man reached out his hand to grab you, Peter's hold on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you anchored. "You don't understand yet," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something darker, something that, as it sent chills down your spine, made you think he was going to take you off somewhere to be tortured. "But you will. Soon, it will make sense. The only way to survive is this. This is something we can't let you ruin."

You were trapped. The weight of their expectations crushed you, their smiles now twisted masks of something monstrous beneath.

"Your child will also do the same duty," the old man said softly. "When they come back to the village with their mate, they will fulfill their destiny. They will carry our future."

Your chest constricted. Every part of you screamed to escape, to run, to fight against the suffocating nightmare into which you had been dragged. All the while, in the depths of your consciousness, you knew that there was no escaping this; they had planned for this. They had chosen you.

Back against the stone wall of the chapel now, your breath came in rapid, gasping suction since the reality began to drown in you. It beat loudly in your chest, a frantic mind racing for exit routes, for freedom from the path that had been laid out for me like a spider's web in all its horrible detail.

Peter's gaze was cold and cruel; it was no longer the warm presence one had hoped for. The heady words of the old man echoed in your ears, chilling and impossible to escape, like a curse. "You will return. You will bear our future."

As impossible as it was to believe, you finally realized it, this fucked up cycle wanted you to be part of it—and not by choice.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You pushed past Peter and felt the sharp sting as he grabbed at your arm. You broke free, legs now trembling beneath you, as you headed for the door. You had to get out. You didn't know where you were running, but the woods were the only option. The only chance at freedom. You burst through the chapel door and into the cold night air, stumbling over uneven ground.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't dare look back. The wind howled around you, swallowing up any sounds from the village. Your lungs burned as you pushed yourself faster, harder, your breath ragged from panic clawing at your chest.

You didn't look up when you heard a car approaching, but you didn't stop either, as your mind told you to keep running, to escape, but your legs were beginning to fail you.

The car stopped short before you, the headlights blinding. You turned with a wild heart as the door to that vehicle swung open. A man in a police uniform stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, with a soft voice but underneath carrying an authority.

He wouldn't let you trust him, and you could be in danger. "I-I need help," you stuttered, barely able to catch your breath. "They're chasing me. They—they won't let me leave."

The officer stepped closer, his eyes darting toward the woods behind you. "Who's chasing you? What happened?" His voice was smooth, coaxing, calm.

You stumbled toward him, the last shreds of your resistance slipping away. His presence was comforting, the uniform a familiar sign of safety in this strange world that had turned upside down. "Please," you gasped. "I need to get out of here. Please help me."

The officer smiled, that warm, almost paternal smile that gave you a moment's feeling of cocooned safety. "You are well within safety here. Get into the car and I'll take you to the station. They won't find you."

You didn't even think twice about it. Worn out and shivering, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed behind you, then the engine revved into life. You sank into the seat, closed your eyes, letting the sound of the engine create an illusion of safety. Finally, you escaped. Finally, you could breathe again.

The engine growled before heading out with the officer looking at you and softening his expression to almost a grin. "A strange night out here, huh?" Are you really sure you are, okay?"

You shook your head, catching your breath. "I need to get away from those people… I don't know who they are but they're dangerous."

"People can be dangerous, can't they?" he mused.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't know who to trust anymore."

Soft chuckle from him, as if to sense that it sounds contrived, that it has to be learned. "What's trust? You just have to know whom to get along with and whom to avoid. It requires experience."

You just turned to the window and trees and darkness rushed by. The mind was reeling from the attempt at grasping everything that has happened as it was really too much: the town; the event; Peter's cold stare; and now this—this officer who has apparently materialized at just the right moment. He must be the one sent to rescue you.

"Where are we off to?" You asked

"Oh, just a little way out of town," he replied, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Nothing to worry about."

You nod, fatigue dragging heavily on your eyelids. For a moment, it felt good, like all was well. But then the cop's voice became a personal one.

''I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers. Was just coming here for a quick stroll," he began, "I never thought I was going to be out here, helping someone like you. It is really funny, how life turns out."

Brow furrowed, and incomprehension written all over the face. "What do you mean?"

The very slight narrowing of the officer's eyes at you, just for an instant, was followed by his returning gaze to the road ahead. "I spent a lot of time in these parts, and the people can be somewhat…. they are peculiar. But then, I guess you already know that."

Heck, what was he talking about? "What do you mean by a little hard to understand? Who do you mean by that?"

Just above a smile, something confidential, something dark, flickered across the officer's lips. "Well, my wife, Peggy… she was from around here. She got them, you know? Understood what was going on. It took me a long time to realize it, but eventually, I figured it out. I did too."

Your heart stops, hammering against the confinement of your ribs. "Peggy… Carter?" That name rang in your mind like a bell, sharp and dissonant. You had heard that name before, only in whispers, a long time ago.

From what you remembered Peggy Carter was one of the most vicious woman in the police force, even in her short time in doing her job. One day she got married to a man named Steve and nothing was heard from her again. As if she disappeared, she completely left her job and duty, and so did Steve who was a fellow police like her who also vanished from the face of the earth. That was all you knew, and all of that happened 10 years ago. Many believed they moved. Some believed

The officer's smile brightened, but now it had no warmth. His voice went down low, as if telling you a secret you weren't supposed to know, "That's right. Peggy Carter. She was special. A part of something much bigger than either of us ever realized. I didn't understand it at first. Thought she was just a regular woman… but then I saw it. I saw everything for what it was."

It had caught in your throat because your mind was connecting all the dots. Peter, in actual fact, couldn't stop saying that you were here for a bigger thing, that you actually belonged. And now there is the officer, Peggy Carter, the strange village thing, the quite twisted ceremony—now everything starts to get clearer while terrifying you.

Your pulse raced, and once more, you cast a glance at him, eyes wide with realization. "You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of their… their plan.”

For just a second, something shadowy, something colder, flicked through his eyes; and with that flicker, somehow you knew you'd made a terrible mistake trusting him.

Steve Rogers, the cop smiled "I was hoping you'd come around sooner or later. You're a bit smarter than I thought," his voice was light, like he was discussing the weather. "However," a dangerous tremor lurked below his words. "Peggy always said you'd be the perfect addition - just like I was, just like she was."

You sprung back, your first instinct was to reach for the door handle, but before your brain could register what was happening, the vehicle shifted violently. Body flung against the door; your head crashed against the metal side with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind your eyes, and suddenly, everything muffled.

When you woke up from what felt like the worst sleep in your life, but you weren't sleeping, or did you just doze off and you couldn't remember any of it? Everything felt like a blur, memories were juggled up, and everything seemed out of place. How did I get here again? You thought to yourself.

It was strangely silent all around. The engine's rhythmic humming gave way to a stifling, heavy silence. You couldn't move. The air around you was thick and stifling; you had a throbbing headache that was likely to make you nauseous.

You couldn't even comprehend what was happening before you saw the door of the car opened, your whole-body weight made you fall off the vehicle. You audibly groaned as your body hit the rough dirty cement

Lo and behold, standing right in front of was Steve Rogers, towering above you, his face expressionless. His cold stare that piercing through your soul at you while your arms continued to adjust the sleeves of his uniform with a calm expertise.

He circled you as if he was predator cornering its prey. He stopped just at your head. He looked at you with an expressionless face, he slowly smiled, the creepy type of smile you would see psychopaths do on movies.

You wanted to run, punch him in the face and fucking run. But you couldn't, it felt as if your feet have already given up on you, plus the blooming pain in your head made it hard to think.

"It just never gets the job done" He frowned momentarily, your eyes widened in fear as you saw him take a beer bottle from behind his back, you shook your head, no please, please, please. You tried your best to crawl away from him, but you couldn't even feel your legs.

You sobbed in defeat, but he just caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away, as if to lure you into a false sense of security. With all the softness of a feather, he said, "You'll be fine," really more to reassure himself than you. "The ceremony's just waiting for you."

Before you can act, a hard bang on your head seems to lurch your stomach. The officer had swung a beer bottle at your skull; it hit with a sickening crack and within the instant the pain exploded into darkness pressing behind your eyes, and the world went black.

It was the scent of incense—sickeningly sweet and heavy enough to churn in the stomach. Candlelight flickered. shadows danced on stone walls, making the small space feel smaller by the second.

You woke up all lethargic with a blooming headache. You felt relaxed underneath the soft bed that you laid, but once you took in the stone walls, it felt like a train has hit you. All of the events from a few hours ago running you over.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an escape route, but all you saw was Peter standing between you and the door.

He never looked more like a stranger.

The once boyish charm which drew me to him was now a hollow mask as he hid himself behind his dark eyes. The face had no malignance—worse, it was soft, almost tender, like he really believed in what he was about to do. And that thought haunted me most terrifyingly.

"You are trembling," Peter said, his calm and soothing voice only making the fear spike higher. "I know it's a lot, really overwhelming, taking it all at once… but… it will be okay, I promise you."

"Peter, please," you whispered, your voice breaking into pieces at the seams. You could hardly utter a word without your throat choking it. "You don't have to do this. Let me out. I promise I won't tell the police—"

But that was where he cut you off by shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand. This is my home. It is where I belong. And now, it is where you belong too. We are part of something bigger here. Something meaningful."

"Meaningful?" you spat. "You kidnapped me, lied to me, and brought me here to…" The words cracked at the tightness in your throat. You couldn't even say them. I dawned onto you that you have been too trusting with Peer, but who wouldn't? Who knew that clumsy little sweet Peter was capable of doing something this fucked.

Peter stepped closer, casting a shadow over the too small room where it suddenly felt claustrophobic and anchoring. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

His voice is insistent, though not harsh. “You were lost out there. Alone. No family, no one who cared about you. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over, to have a purpose. To be loved.”

“Loved?” The word struck your lips like venom. “This isn’t love, Peter. This is… this is sick.”

It darkened slightly his countenance, as a spark of frustration crossed his face before it was replaced by forced patience. "You're scared," he softly pronounced. "That's normal. But fear does not last. Once you embrace your role, once you understand what we're building here, you'll see that it's not sick. It's beautiful."

“No,” you whispered, the soft sound swallowed by the thrumming of your heart. “No, this isn’t survival. This is—”

“But” Peter cut you off firmer now like a knife slicing through your protests. “It’s already decided. The village chose you. I chose you. And now… it’s time to fulfill your purpose.”

Peter looked at you, with a voice deceptively soft. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what the village needs. What I need. We can’t let our bloodline die. Every generation, we bring someone in—someone like you. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.”

“Not,” that voice barely came out through the rapid pounding of your heart. "No, this isn't survival. This is—"

The words sent the waves of nausea throbbing through you. Your knees buckled, landing you onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking violently. Peter knelt before you, hands gentle as they gripped your knees. The touch made your skin crawl, but you were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

"You are afraid," he repeated, the tone almost tender. "it needs to be this way. After the ceremony, you'll see there is clearly a need for it."

"Peter," you choked out, barely in a whisper. "Don't do this, please."

He tilted his head, softening in expression as if he really thought given how pitiful you look. "This is for them. For us. For the village. You'll thank me one day."

The door creaked open, and two women stepped in to the door. They moved with quiet, almost unnerving precision their white, long, and flowing robes covering the ground as they entered. Both had faces that seemed devoid of emotion—serene but cold as if they had performed this ritual hundreds of times before.

You instinctively tried to press yourself into the corner of the bed pulling down from Peter. “Who are they?” you asked unsure though your voice came out shaky and weak.

Peter turned toward the women; his posture casual almost welcoming. “They’re here to help,” he said softly as though the explanation should comfort you.

Help. The word in your stomach was like poison. You didn’t need help. You needed to escape.

One of the women carried a bowl filled with a dark unknown substance that shimmered strangely in the candle's light. She laid the bowl down on a small wooden table near the bed, her movements carefully controlled. The other carried a smaller cup with her fingers clutching tightly as she looked at you.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. “I’m not drinking that.”

It’s just to help,” he said calmly. "You’ve been through so much. You lived so much. You’re shaking. You’re exhausted. This will relax you.”

“I don’t want to relax!” you cracked your voice rising in desperation. “I want to leave! Please, Peter, don’t do this!”

He sighed, as though disappointed but his patience did not waver. “I know you’re scared,” he said reaching out to hold his hand on your knee. “But this isn’t about fear. It’s about trust. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach tilted and a cold wave of nausea was rolling over you. Why would he even ask that question? "Peter, you are not the person I thought you were. I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you anymore.”

Peter’s jaw tightened somewhat ever so slightly, as if flickering with guilt. Peter was the funny and clumsy guy you met at a party, but this Peter. You don't know which dimension he came from. But his guilt was immediately gone in an instant replaced by the same calm, unnervingly patient expression, accompanied with a reassuring smile that could've been comforting in different circumstances.

“It’s my fear. I think that can be said,” he said, his tone softening again. "Once you let go of this, you will see. You’ll feel better.”

He gestured toward the woman with the cup to reach closer to you. Her movements were graceful, fast rehearsed as she held the drinking. The cup itself was simple, wooden. But compared to what's inside looked nothing compared to ordinary. It was a dark murky brown with faint swirls of crimson that seemed to ripple on its own.

Your stomach churned at the sight of it, you wanted to gag at the thought of even coming in contact with that liquid, you said again "I won't drink that." Your voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t respond. She held the cup in her hand, as if waiting for you drink it still.

Peter reached for your hand and firmly gripped on it, but not a forceful one. "It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “This will help you. I promise.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, and the woman moved the cup closer to your lips. Panic rolled. Your heart began to beat, and tears were falling from your eyes. “No!” you shouted thrashing against Peter’s hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t let go. His strength was shocking and unyielding as he held your and instructed the woman to force the drink in your mouth. The dark liquid sloshed down the rim, spilling onto your trembling chin as you refused to open your mouth, moving your head back and forth so that you could just avoid the unknown and disgusting liquid.

“Please don’t fight this!” Peter shouted; his tone now laced with urgency and desperation. "It’s better if you just let it happen."

The woman tilted the cup and poured the thick liquid into your lips. You clenched your teeth, refusing to let it in. Peter’s hand moved to your jaw, his fingers pressing firmly until your mouth opened involuntarily. Liquid graced on your tongue, its taste vile and metallic like rotting herbs and rust.

You gagged and coughed violently as they forced you to swallow. The bitterness burned all the way down, leaving an acrid aftertaste that made you want to rip out your tongue, you fell on the bed as you gripped your throat—massaging your throat, a pathetic attempt to soothe the taste that felt like it travelled all the way down to your throat, it didn't have any burning sensation, it just felt like your throat had taste buds.

You convulsed on the bed, “What the- What was that?” you asked; out of breath as you tried to gasp for air.

Peter stood “You’re going to feel it soon,” he said, pushing a damp lock of hair off your brow.

It was a gentle warmth blooming in your chest, then outward like the bright afterglow from the strongest of drinks. Then it grew. It scorched through your veins, making your skin feel alive with a burst of tingling sensations. Your breaths came quicker as you kept trying to dismiss the feelings, but they just wouldn't listen.

“W-What is happening to me?” came the stammers from you in a trembling voice.

Peter knelt beside you again, touching your knee ever so lightly with his hand. “The elixir is working its magic on you,” he said kindly. “It allows you to let go. To free yourself to connect with what is meant to be.”

This warmth soon transformed into a more diabolical sensation, a slow burn that throbbed low in your stomach that stretched to your clothed womanhood. Suddenly every nerve ending on your skin was hypersensitive, sending a shiver down your spine against that crawl of fabric over your body. Heart racing, but it was hardly with fear.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Peter merely smiled all the wider and relaxed his squeeze on your shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said. “Your body is just responding. It’s natural.”

While your mind was telling you every reason to fight it off, your body would have none of it. That heat, the damn heat; it clouded everything snuffing off every thought but that strange feeling growing in you.

Peter leaned in closer as he whispered “This is how it’s supposed to be. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.”

Your brain screamed against this intrusion, invoking all the force it could muster to reject it, to reject him. But your limbs felt heavy, thick, sluggish, as though they had been clapped into a steel frame. The drug took effect, you loathed it and wished to deny the dull calling of unwanted pleasure.

"Please," you managed to whisper, letting your tears flow down your cheeks. "Don't do this."

In every way this was wrong. You didn't want to partake in this, you wanted out. Peter was not the person you thought he would. Maybe he was before all of this, but not now.

Peter held your face with both his hands—gentle yet firm. "It's been done," he said, pinning his gaze on yours with steady resolve.

The heat had become unbearable; it drummed against your thoughts and created ceilings that pressed down on you. You could hardly breathe, each breath barely manageable since all control was lost over thoughts revolving around him. The very touch of him inflamed every nerve in your body.

Peter continued to lean forward until the distance separating your two faces became almost nonexistent. The darkness of his brown eyes was rendered soft, for all that, it was chillingly out of place now. "You're trembling," he said softly, his voice dipping with mock concern as he brushed his palm over your damp forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

You turned your head away, yet your body was heavy and unwilling to cooperate. "P-please," you whispered, not even sure what it was you were begging for at this point—mercy, some distance, anything but this.

Peter's hand slid down again to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek. The warmth of his touch felt like additional treachery against your body, which leaned into his hand, once again, even though the screams of your mind were saying otherwise. "Shh," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing pitch. "It's okay. You're safe here. With me."

His words twisted a knife that lodged in your heart, and you were still trying to find a protest when his other hand clamped on your waist—gentle yet firm. Just enough pressure was applied to make acutely aware of every detail of your closeness: the scent of wood smoke and something faintly sweet, flooding your senses and drowning all your composure.

"You've had to fight for so long," he said; there was almost a tenderness in his voice. "Let it go—let me take care of you."

You shook your head weakly, your lips parting to say no words that would come. Everything in you resisted, heavily dulled by the drug that now crumbled your defenses and left you helpless to bask in warmth blossoming in your chest and the sickening affinity of Peter's presence.

He angled his face, gazing down at you as the thumb of his right hand traced the curve of your jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured, almost a whisper. "Yet you don't even see it? You are something else—so special."

The tears that had built up in your eyes crashed down, scalding lines down your cheeks. "Please," you said again, but it came almost like a feeble whisper, your power to protest fractured.

Peter leaned forward, and his breath ghosted over your lips. "I've waited for this," he murmured, as though revealing a secret. "Waited for you. I thought I would never even have a chance with you since you were so fucking smitten with your dick of a boyfriend. But you're mine now,"

And before you could think, hit him back or convince him otherwise, his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was languid, purposeful, and claiming. His mouth flowed with an unsettling confidence, an almost eerie manifestation of such rehearsed movement, if it existed at all. You wanted to break apart from him and scream and fight him, but your body let you down one last time; it was folded under the drug and against the full force of his presence.

His hands moved, one remained cradling your face, while the other tightened at your waist as a gentle reminder that you belonged nowhere else. It was a kiss more claiming than forceful, a silent proclamation of his ownership over you.

He finally pulled away but only to press his forehead to yours, feeling warm against your skin. "It's time" he whispered, it was loud enough for the women to hear. They immediately scurried out of the room and closed the door on their way out.

Before even asking what was going on, Peter attacked your neck. You shrieked at his sudden actions. He kissed, licked, and bite every single portion of your neck.

Peter's hot tongue licked your skin as he leaned closer, lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. A shiver made its way down your spine as he softly sucked on the sensitive flesh, forming this sweet vacuum that made your heart stand still.

Peter kept on kissing and nibbling at your neck, fueling his excitement that grew hotter like a fire, determined to engulf you both. His hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss, lips and tongue moving together in a dance that spoke both pleasure and pain.

You winced; you want nothing more but for this to end. You tried to imagine yourself in another scenario, a happy one. That one time where Harry bought you this wonderful necklace for your one-year anniversary. Things were still calm, peaceful.

You were so deep in thought that the ripping sound of fabric made you flinch. You have realized that Peter has ripped off your thin graphic t-shirt, leaving nothing but your bra on full display for him. But of course, the bra didn't stay on for long.

He ripped your bra off you with such force. He threw the bra elsewhere, that was the least of his worries as your he saw your mounds with all its glory. Blood rushed up to his cock at the sight of you half naked and slightly damp from sweat. You on the other hand just wanted nothing more but all of this to end.

Peter leaned in, his lips grazing your skin down to the soft curve of your delicate breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and he started to suckle; the soft gentle tug sent a jolt of sensation radiating through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets as you let out a shriek.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment" His words came in muffled since he was still stuffing his face with your breasts, but you heard it loud and clear. How blind were you? Peter has been lusting over you, longer than you even met him, how come you never realized it? All the warning signs were there, but they were subtle, now they're just coming to light now that it was too late.

He had grown more daring now, sucking, kissing, and licking every inch of your breasts. He nibbled and sucked at the curves, gently biting the flesh around them. Meanwhile, his hands traveled all over her torso, cupping and squeezing dear breasts as if to remember every contour.

"So beautiful," he whispered in between kisses. "Perfect. Mine." Those words sent a shuddering chill up your spine.

Peter stared into your eyes while he was sucking and nibbling on your breasts. They would have been a sweet sight if the present state of affairs were any different.

He released your nipple from his mouth, as drool connected from his lips to your erect nipples.

With urgent impatience, Peter fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tore it off, revealing a sculpted torso that demanded attention. The muscles of his torso flexed while he moved, and for a second, you could not help but look at the sheer grace and control that radiated off his body.

Now, Peter had long ceased to be interested in himself; he was now concentrating all his energy and attention on you. The moment he grabbed hold of your pants, and his fingers had clasped tightly around the waistband, panic ran through you at the sight of him pulling down on them. You didn't want to give in, not now, not ever.

Your hands went straight up to push against him; you punched at his chest with all the remaining strength that you have that wasn't stripped off by the drug. Your fruitless attempt on trying to gain some space between your bodies.

"Peter, no," you said, your voice wavering but earnest. "I don't want to. Please!"

His eyes never left the prize, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked your pants down, regardless of how you kicked and thrashed against the force with which he was pulling. Your underwear met the cool air.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized that Peter was staring down at the small scrap of fabric that barely covered you in your most intimate area.

He wrapped his fingers around your underwear's waistband. You tried to squirm away from him, but he held you tight, his grip like a vice. In one swift motion, he ripped the fabric from your body, leaving you completely bare.

Peter's eyes had wandered across every inch of your naked body, you tried to look away from him, but your face was met with a wet pillow, you didn't even notice that you have let out a few tears.

Peter dove on to your crotch and his warm breath rolled over your sensitive skin like a wave of fire. His tongue flicked out as he suckled at your clit, and involuntarily, jolts of electricity pulsed up your spine. You attempted to push him off you once more, but Peter was far too strong

Peter continued his assault on your pussy, you felt a familiar sensation happening. You shook your head as your body betrayed you. Peter seemed to notice this, "There she is"

Before you knew it, he inserted a finger in your hole as he continuously licked your clit with such vigor.

You let out a strangled moan as your hand flew to his hair. Peter smirked at this as he slowly fucked you with his finger, which was a stark contrast to his tongue who ravished you like you were his last meal

"God, such a tasty pussy" He murmured, which just sent vibrations to your pussy. He continued, his tongue circles your clit, licking and sucking on it like he can't get enough. "Good lil fuckin pussy" He moaned as if he's the one getting head.

He continues to lap on your juices, slurping any arousal seeping through as if he hadn't drunk water in many years.

His voice low and soft, whispering how good it is, how perfect your sweet pussy was for him. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sweet—so good for me. God, I'm so glad your mine now." He kisses it so passionately, muttering praises to it while his tongue laps you up.

And as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, you felt a building pressure inside yourself. It felt like every nerve ending had been ignited by Peter’s ministrations.

Your legs stiffened, your hips jerked upwards, and your entire body began to tremble with anticipation.

With such joy and pain, you felt like you were seeing stars right in front of you. The intensity was too much to bear as your grip on Peter's hair tightened

That instant when the knot finally snapped and a deluge of pure, harmless ecstasy engulfed you, your body contorted, muscles oscillating and contracting rhythmically; an intense orgasm swooping upon you like a tempest.

Your legs stiffened and your toes curled in pleasure. You clutched at anything and everything. Peter's hair, bed linen, anything to hold on to the threads of reality, as everything before your eyes dissolved into an ocean of forced bliss.

River of tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn't help but reminiscence your time with Harry. For the first years you were together with Harry, he was sweet and loving, even if your relationship has turned sour after Harry found another hobby, he would never force himself inside you. When you had sex, it was always consensual.

With the final ripples of the orgasm fading away, Peter finally pulled his head from between your legs. His gaze brushed over you with a kind of possessive pride, and he took the disarray of your body in the messy fondle of your hair, the daze that lingered from where he brought you so close to the edge that you fell over it, and the slick of sweat glistening over your skin.

“You look tired,” Peter said with a soft almost guilty tone, "But I'm afraid that that was just to prepare you, were just beginning"

When those words came out his mouth you shook your head as you begged him, "Please Pete, please" You sobbed, your words barely even intelligible.

"Shhhhhhhh" He shushed you, "The more your accepting, the sooner this will end" No, you didn't want to accept this, there must be another way, there must be.

As he stood up and took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. His cock slightly bounced once the boxers were fully off of him. He climbed on top you as both of you were now fully naked as the day you were born.

"The bedding ceremony is about to begin” Peter said, low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “It's going to hurt, but I think I prepped you enough”

He then aligned his cock to your slit. You gasped as his bulbous tip entered you, he wasn't big, but he was thick. He slowly pushed his cock inch by inch inside you, your sensitive flesh was still sore from the previous orgasm.

Peter suddenly thrusted deep inside you, fully losing patience, with a forcefulness that took your breath away. His cock touching your cervix when he bottomed inside you, it felt almost painful how intense it was.

“Please, Peter,” you pleaded, attempting to push him away. "You're hurting me."

But Peter just smiled at you, it gave you tingling shudders through your spine. “That's the first step of the ceremony” he said, pulling out then plunging back in. “You just have to learn to accept what I’m giving you, if you learn maybe Goddess will reward you"

His relentless cock was battering your insides, and you were starting to tear up. It was nearly unbearable agony; the pleasure was subtle that you could barely even get the gist of it, the searing warmth that burned itself into your very essence.

“Stop,” you said again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Please just stop."

Through the pain and the fear, you never lost hope. So you fought back with a passion you never had before.

Your hands raked Peter’s chest, ripping at his skin to the point he grunted in surprise. Your fingers sank into his skin, but he only chuckled—a sound that was hollow and empty.

Unfazed, you fought on. Your teeth dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him hiss. But even as he grimaced, he wouldn’t stop — his hips pumping a relentless rhythm, one that threatened to swallow you whole.

You swung your fists, punching into Peter's face and chest with a frenzied abandon. Forced down in front of him as he sunk his cock deep within your needy hole, you tried to twist away, to squirm free as he held you in place, the weight of his body pinning your hands above your head, forcing you to take this.

And you tried, even though it was entirely pointless. You kicked your legs to try and buck him off you. But he was too heavy — too powerful — and he laughed again as he kept your legs pinned down beneath him.

With each thrust Peter grew more aggressive; almost brutal the heat inside you was burning you up; threatening to consume all reason and make you numb.

You were lost in the agonizing bliss, as Peter's cock continued its merciless assault on your insides. The fire in your belly grew more intense, it felt like it was spreading through your insides like wildfire.

"God, you're squeezing me so hard" Peter breathed as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit.

Yet whilst you sensed you were in pieces on the inside, that you were toppling apart, something in you relished it. It felt like your body had turned against you, reacting to the vicious attack with a disgusting cocktail of agony and pleasure.

Peter thrusts forward and you felt your hips bucking in time with his, your mind spinning in horror. It was like your body had created its own consciousness that responded immediately to the arousal with animal instinct that couldn't be suppressed.

You were losing yourself in the sensations, being sucked into a world both dark and depraved, where no line could be drawn between pain and pleasure. It was the most terrifying feeling in the world, when you wondered if you would ever find a way out of the grip of this monster who was responsible for everything.

With every thrust, Peter became more aggressive, more brutal - You could feel yourself losing control; teetering on edge, ready to plunge headfirst into unknown; uncertainty ignited both fear and anticipation.

Your breaths were coming in small gasps now as Peter gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like a vice. You attempted to move; attempted to wriggle against him—but it was futile: he was too strong

This friction just poured gasoline into the flames that had been raging within you—turning those pleasurable sensations into unbearable ones. The edge of your sight blurs out; stars dance along the border of your vision as the world narrows down on a single point of focus: Peter

In pure ecstasy moment you found yourself surrendering, submitting to the wave pleasure that is tearing up your body. Its fear inducing and freeing sensation — like leaping off a precipice without a net — not knowing what awaits at the base.

The world went white and quiet. You hear Peters voice in your ear whispering "Come for me" and with that your body explodes into thousand pieces

You weren't sure what happened, your mind all fogged and your pussy sore. The only thing you have noticed was that Peter was still thrusting inside you.

He leaned as he whispered the most haunting words into your ear, "I almost feel bad for you. I guess you should always follow what your parents says, don't trust strangers"

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me