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spider-stark · 27 days

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INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

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

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

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

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

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

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

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

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

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

Or, at least, none that mattered.

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

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

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

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

And Peter never even asked why.

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

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

And how true that must have been.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he?”

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

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

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

“Well did he have anything useful?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mj happened.”

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

“Yep. That’s the one.”

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

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

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

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

You sucked in a breath.

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

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not pretending-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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thefiery-phoenix · 9 months

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YANDERE PETER PARKER HEADCANONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will use EDITH to make sure you're safe

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

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

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likely-moony · 8 months

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

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

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

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

Gaslight

Paring: Yandere Peter Parker x Reader

Type/words: Short Story ~ 888 Words

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

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

⚠️ YOU HAVE HAVE BEEN WARNED ⚠️

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“Where’re you going?”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

Peter placed a sour expression on his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, tell me.”

Peter faked an exhausted sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little too much.

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

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

Hope you enjoyed it :)

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 2 years

Note

How would yandere Peter Parker(Tom version) react to the reader running away from her own wedding? Like the vows are being said and stuff and reader manages to slip away from him and hitches her dress and starts to make a run for it? Would he find her and if so, what would he do to her?

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

AN: Thanks for requesting. I didn't know if you wanted just my thoughts on this or a proper imagine, but either way i did a headcanon. Hope you like this :) Make sure to reblog and give me feedback

More at Masterlist

(female reader)

WARNINGS: Forced marriage; Implied future Breeding/Forced Pregnancy

It would be a public yet private and small wedding. Peter wants Aunt May to be there and also his friends (even if it’s just MJ and Ned) but mostly he wants to show you off to everyone. Show that a beautiful girl like you loves him and only him.

Which is a lie, you made a good job pretending to be a loving girlfriend in front of everyone but that’s because you’re afraid of Peter and what he’s capable of.

He has previously proved that he’s dangerous and unless you want your loved ones, you'll have to behave.

Your family may or not be invited. Peter will use the excuse of you not being close with your family but if May insists too much, then he’ll be forced to invite them even after he’s the one that caused an edge between you and your family.

You didn’t want to get married to Peter, but you had to pretend to be happy for the sake of your loved ones. You hate pretending to be compliant but it’s a small sacrifice you have to make.

But after the vows being said and official kiss is done, Peter leans to your ear and whisper dreadful words that make your heart stop

“I can’t wait to start trying for kids.”

You don’t want kids, not with Peter. If you end up pregnant, it means there will be no way out for you. Never.

You’d never be able to run away, that task being significantly harder with kids on your tail.

So, in a moment of weakness, just as Peter is busy greeting his friends, you take the chance and run away.

Surprisingly enough, no one sees you fleeing the scene but they soon notice you’re missing from the venue.

Peter is scared, he almost thinks someone has kidnapped you but that’s until he checks the apartment cameras and sees that you’re packing your clothes in a hurry.

He lowkey lies to everyone, claiming that you’ve felt bad and so he told you to go home and rest and with that, he ends the wedding party.

Peter rushes home and on his way there he makes sure to lock the apartment doors with the security app on his phone. That way you’ll be trapped inside until he reaches it.

And then, well, let’s just say that all your fears will come true.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #dark marvel #dark peter parker #dark peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker #yandere marvel #yandere avengers #yandere headcanon #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #yandere!peter parker #yandere!peter parker x reader

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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years

Text

In the Name of Good | Prt 2 -[P.P.]

Pairings: Dark!Yandere!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: The cat's out of the bag, so how do you proceed?

Word Count: 5.2k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+

Swearing, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of emesis, Smut, Oral (f and m receiving), P in V sex, choking, multiple orgasms, Daddy Kink

( Part 1 | Masterlist )

A/N: The long-awaited sequel which is really just porn with a plot. I'm not sure if this will be a complete story but I may update it every now and then.

Peter's darkness is much more subtle in this piece so there are no major warnings this time around.

Happy Holloween you whores <3

The early light creeps through your window, the golden rays kissing your skin. You stretch your fingers toward the carnelian beams and let your fingers dance in the sundust. You bask in the peace of the morning. As the sun rises it brings a new dawn, a new day. Who knew what you would do today? You could do anything. Today felt like a shopping day. It seems nice out and you could feel stress sitting in your bones, a deep ache pulling at your muscles.

You stretch before opening your blinds. That’s odd, you don’t remember closing them. You look at the house across the street. Peter’s car sits in front of the house; if you squint your eyes, you can see him through the window. He sits perched in his desk chair, twirling a pencil as he examines a piece of paper.

Something felt…off about this morning. It was something you couldn’t quite place but this morning brought a certain uneasiness. It was something you hoped a hot shower could fix.

You let the steam ease your tired bones as you soaked in the eucalyptus sent. As you scrubbed your brain spiralled. What had happened? Why couldn’t you remember? Your brain felt fuzzy as flashes of intangible moments congested your mind.

You had been afraid. You remember the nausea that accompanied it. The knocked-over bottles on the sink were all too real to ignore. Peter was there. Had you been afraid of him? No! You shook your head trying to fling that thought to the farthest corner, somewhere it couldn’t hurt you again. Along with thoughts of dog tags, of headphones, of a twisted smile warped by shadows.

Peter was here. Or rather you were there, with him, in his room. It was dark. Flashes of white cloud your mind. Harsh lines against the wall, you could feel them on your skin. As if somehow a part of you, intertwined with your being.

You wiped the fog from the mirror and felt that familiar feeling of dread. It wasn’t a nightmare. Peter had…hurt people. He had killed them. And he- he hurt you. Purple stars on your shoulder, constellations woven into your skin to tell a tale of horror. You traced the bruises in abhorrence, the pads of his fingers left behind as a warning.

You fell to the floor as everything washed over you once again. The chilled ceramic did nothing to soothe you. Like Eve, you had been brought to your knees by the tree of knowledge. Was it worth it? Every question you had ever had, answered by a cracked doorway that you carelessly ploughed through. You had tasted the flesh of the apple against your lips and now it was too late to go back.

You paced your room as your mind reeled. Peter was a murderer. You should then turn him in. You knew, you had the evidence, you should turn him in. But would that be enough? Would it be enough to stop him? Would it be enough to absolve you?

As much as you hated to think about it, you already knew. You had recognised there was a darkness in Peter even when you were children. The way his reactions almost seemed rehearsed. The way he wouldn’t bat an eye at someone else’s misfortune. But you had labelled it as bravery. The way he would blindly charge into danger if you were in harm's way. The way he would run to May’s aid, big or small. The way he would clean your bumps and scrapes with nothing but a smile on his face.

You looked at the pictures that adorned your bedroom wall. Peter had insisted on helping you hang them up. He had given you two stacks of photos one day in the warm July heat. You sat in your room between fans and your open window ushering in the humid breeze. Peter’s presence was a comfort then, as you looked through memories frozen in time.

Now as you looked around all you saw was him. What was once a comforting remark now haunted you as you gazed into his empty eyes. “This way I can watch over you. I can always be here. I can always see you.”

I can always see you. You felt suffocated under his dead gaze. There was nowhere you could go, nowhere you could hide. He was everywhere.

You moved to open the window, hoping some fresh air would help. The light of the sun cradled you in a blanket of warmth. The chirping birds sing in melodies and harmonies alike as they skate through the sky. You close your eyes focusing instead on everything else.

Peter watches in wonder as you absorb the world around you. He had been trying to give you space. He knew you would come around, he just had to give it some time. Let you wrestle with this for a bit before catching you in his arms. He knows that you would never leave him. He knew it was only a matter of time before you would call him or knock on his door. He just had to wait. He could do that.

He sat camera faced at you, watching as your fingers pulled out the braid he had carefully crafted for you. He watched as you paced your room, hugging yourself close. He watched as you stared at the wall, tracing the shape of his face with a shaky hand. He watched as you went to the window, ripping it open and gasping for air.

He joined you there, a street away. Your eyes were closed and your hair billowed in the wind as you drank in the sunlight. You were what ancient poets wrote of. You were his Ithica. His rock, his home, his love, his life. And you were so beautiful.

You raised your head, opening your eyes, only to find Peter staring right at you. You felt a swirling of emotions in your gut. You were looking at pure evil, someone who killed to kill, someone who liked to kill. You were looking at someone who a few hours ago had no qualms about killing you.

Your stare was expressionless, something that perplexed Peter. You usually wore your heart on your sleeve and every thought on your brow. But now, as he looked into your eyes, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking. He didn’t appreciate being out of the know. You had suddenly become an unknown variable in an equation he knew quite well.

You tried to look at him objectively. You took in the way the sun seemed to melt into his skin, leaving stark shadows by the bulb of his nose and under the cut of his jaw. If someone told you that he had been carved from marble at the hands of Michelangelo, you would believe them. He was well-defined, every muscle and bone clear in the rays of the sun, but there was a softness to his edges that made him look feathered, almost holy.

You had never stared Peter down before. He was seeing in you a boldness that he had yet to experience. He wasn’t sure if it was something he liked. You held a certain coldness that he was unfamiliar with. How odd.

Peter tilted his head and you mindlessly mimicked it. You were attempting to break him down to a microscopic level, to judge his very molecules. Peter was dark but was he evil? This is what you were trying to solve. As you stared at him you thought back to every moment you had shared, tearing each memory to shreds, looking for anything that would tell you Peter was bad.

You came up with a lot of ambitious greys. He had killed someone, several someones, but some of those murders were somewhat justifiable. He had killed pets. That was not good but better than killing people. He had been fascinated with the macabre but that made him fantastic to watch horror movies with. He had been cold to others but always showed you great kindness. He could display tremendous violence but you had only seen it in your defence. A vicious knight in shining armour coming to rescue you with bared teeth and bloody knuckles.

You pulled away from the window leaving it open as you made your way down the stairs. Peter watched in curiosity as you marched your way across the street, not sparing him a single glance. He heard your determined steps and opened his door to you.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your head in his shirt. You couldn’t separate Peter from his actions. To lose any of him would be to lose him all. Your nails dug into his back as you blinked back tears. No. You were not going to lose him. Not today, not ever. Your Peter.

“Aw, little lamb. What’s wrong?” He pulled you closer as you shook your head. How could you put it into words? How could you tell him that he was every boogeyman you feared but also the only solace from this waking nightmare?

You pulled away with tears of anger. He looked at you confused and everything spilt over. You banged your hand against his chest.

How could he?

You brought your hand down again.

He did this

And again.

You did this

And again

He did it for you

And again

And you let him

And again

For years

And again

You let him

You raised your fist another time, not nearly close to done, but Peter grabbed your wrist, stopping you. You struggled against him but his hold was strong, too strong to fight. Your wave of anger passed and left you with true exhaustion. You collapsed against him, small whimpers falling from your lips.

He held you to his chest as you continued to cry. You focused on the beating of his heart, his hand tracing shapes on your back, his breath on your shoulder, the sweet cooing in your ear. This was Peter. This was the boy you loved. The one holding you and telling you everything was going to be okay.

It wasn’t enough. You needed more. More of his gentle touches and reassuring words. You needed to feel him, to know he was real and here. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he caught your legs as you jumped.

“It’s okay, little lamb, I gotcha.” And you believed him. He always had you. He always made it better. If you were with Peter everything would be okay. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the woodsy smell of pine and cedar. It still wasn’t enough. You pulled yourself closer, your hands now in his hair and legs trapping him in a vice grip. You squeezed and squeezed, knowing he could take it. You just needed more.

You felt a hand on your head and another wrapped around your back. It seemed like he was trying to reciprocate and the thought brought you a sliver of serenity. He moved to the bed, sitting you down on his lap and continued to pet your hair. All too soon he was breaking away and you couldn’t help the cry you let out. His hands found your face, lifting it to meet his gaze.

“Little lamb, I can’t help you if you don't tell me what’s wrong.” The knot in his brows seemed real, as did the way he tensed his jaw.

“I- I can’t-” You gulped helplessly for air but it felt as though someone had poked a hole in your lung. “I-You can’t- You can’t leave me!”

You were gripping wildly at his shirt, trying to bring him closer, but his hold on your face kept you far away. He brought his lips to your forehead and everything stopped. For just a moment the clouds had parted and your mind cleared, but then he broke away and the fear swallowed you whole.

In an act of delirium, you moved a hand from his shoulder to his neck. You felt the small goose bumps under the pads of your fingers, the drum of his steady pulse under your palm. It soothed you. You moved your hand lower, stretching his neckline as you reached for his pec, his heart.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hand on your wrist stopped you once again and you wanted to scream. His touch brought back that semblance of peace and in the quiet of your mind, you were able to piece together what you needed.

Your eyes were filled with desperation, for what Peter couldn’t tell. He wanted to fix it. He could hear your heart thrumming, the small thing fluttering in your chest.

“Please I…” Your mouth felt dry and your tongue heavy. “I need to feel you.”

Peter froze. His mind was picking your words apart, dissecting each syllable. He thought he would explode. He looked over your frame, your heavy breathing and shaky hands. This is it. This is what he’s been waiting for. You would fall in love with him today. He was determined.

He let go of your hands, placing his own on your waist. “Do whatever you need.”

You reached for his shirt and he helped you get it off. Your fingers traced the muscle and scars. He was so pretty. You needed more, more contact. You moved to take off your shirt and Peter watched in awe as you revealed yourself to him.

You wrapped yourself around him, hands tracing the planes of his back, massaging the muscle under your palms. Peter’s hands were running up and down your back in comforting circles.

His fingers began toying with the clasp of your bra listening for your reaction. He noticed the way your heart beat faster and your breath caught in your throat. He slipped the annoying fabric off your shoulders and gathered all the strength he had. You were on his lap, pressed against him. All of his late-night fantasies were coming to fruition and he had to stop himself from pinning you to the bed and fucking you like an animal. He had to be slow, and careful.

You pulled yourself closer, head buried in his neck as your nose played with his pulse point. Peter trailed his shaking hands to your ass, squeezing it. You let out a soft moan and Peter could scream. He could feel you against him. He could pick up on the small pulse in your clit, the new warmth in your core against his waist.

He trailed his hand down further, rubbing at your thigh, and you whined again. His fingers found your chin, lifting you to see him eye to eye. His palm flattened against your cheek and you nuzzled into it, lost in the warmth of his touch. Peter’s willpower was hanging by a thread and you were doing very little to keep him strong.

“Little lamb, do you want me to make you feel better?” His other hand skated a path on the inside of your thigh. “Do you want me to fix it?”

You nodded your head, the sheer force of it rattling your brain. He was gonna fix it. Peter knew you better than anyone and you knew he would give you what you needed, even if you weren’t sure what that was right now. But Peter would know. He always knew and he always fixed it.

He brought his lips to yours and you felt the rapture in his touch. His grip on your thigh grounded you in the moment. His lips were dry and cracked, the dead skin threatening to cut you open but god if it didn’t make you feel things. His thumb pulled at your chin, opening your mouth to him. His tongue explored forth and you pushed yours forward trying to meet it. The kiss was awkward and lacking a certain grace but neither of you cared.

He turned to the side, placing your back on the bed and slotting himself between your legs. You tried to pull him down and he let you guide him. With all of his weight on you, you began to feel a little better. Peter was becoming more and more tangible.

His hands skated across your ribs then in towards your boobs. You moaned at the feeling of him holding you in his big hands. Peter’s kisses left your face to join his deft fingers. You had never felt like this before, like you were on fire but also like ice was running through your veins. Peter was both dousing the fire and adding petrol to the flames. It was intoxicating.

He took a nipple in his mouth and worried it with his teeth. He was delighted when he felt you buck underneath him. He marked them as much as he could, while his hands worked on getting your jeans off. He wanted everyone to know they were his. Not Noah’s, not Micheal’s, not Morrissey’s, and certainly not Blake’s.

No, no, this was all Peter’s. You belonged to him, well before this moment. You were always his. He knew he would make it so, that one day he saw you sitting on the curb. He knew then that you would be his. He spent years instilling this thought in your head. Years of meticulous planning and discreet word choice all leading to this moment. You would be his forever.

He pulled down your jeans like he had many times before, but this time a new aroma surrounded him. It was all-consuming. Peter’s eyes darkened and you almost didn’t recognise the man in front of you. Without a single warning, he was gripping your thighs, pulling them apart to make space for his face.

You felt his tongue against the crotch of your panties and it felt like he had shocked you with a twelve-volt battery. You gripped the sheets as he started making out with clothed pussy. His name tumbled from your lips and he had never heard a more sacrosanct sound. It brought him back to the moment.

He had almost forgotten that you were awake. He didn’t have to be careful, he could indulge in everything you had to offer, and he planned to drown. He ripped your panties, the elastic snapping under his powerful grip. He placed his thumbs on your mound, pulling your lips apart to fully soak in the treasure before him.

He ran his nose from your quivering hole to your clit, breathing in the aphrodisiac that is you. Your hips bucked again and Peter couldn’t help grinding into the mattress. He ate you out like a starved man at a Golden Coral.

You couldn’t keep track of where he was. He was sucking on your clit, then thrusting his tongue inside you, then he was in both places at the same time. Your brain was melting in pleasure and Peter could tell you were close. He wasn’t exactly sure how but he just knew and the thought spurred him on more. He brought a finger to your cunt and watched as your toes curled.

“Petey, I feel, I feel weird” Peter could have came just then. His imagination ran wild at the thought of you never coming before. And he would be the first person, the only person, to make you do so.

“It’s okay little lamb, you’ll feel better I promise. Just let it go.” He put another finger in you and it hurt, but the way he was pumping them so fast had your mind spinning. He went back to attacking your clit and you felt an unfamiliar snap in your abdomen. It was like you were seeing colour for the first time. You let out a scream as you came and Peter slowly came to a stop.

You saw him grinning between your legs before he dipped his head down once again. He pinned down your legs to keep you from squirming as his tongue entered you again. You could feel the muscle as it scrapped against your walls. He brought his thumb back to your clit and started running it in a circle. You couldn’t breathe.

“Pete, Pete, it’s too much.” He just went harder and your back arched. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging on it, trying to pull him away. You felt him grunt into you as it reverberated through you. You felt that feeling in the pit of your gut again and you focused on Peter’s instructions. You felt your legs start to straighten and you were panting, music to Peter’s ears. You came again and Peter wasted no time licking it up.

You lay there lifeless against his pillows, trying to catch your breath. You felt Peter stand and you turned to watch him slip off his pants. He stood before you, a Grecian god. His hard-on was reaching to his belly button, red and shiny.

You sat up immediately. You had never seen a penis before, not in person at least. A few years ago Peter had introduced you to porn but it wasn’t really your thing.

“Look what you did to me little lamb.” Your heart fell through the floor. He grabbed your hand placing it on the shaft. It felt heavy in your palm, and you started stroking it.

“Does it…hurt?” You had heard guys at school talking about having erections. You had heard them talking about how sometimes it hurt and how cruel these girls were for making them hurt. You didn’t want Peter to hurt.

“A little bit,” was all he said. You bit your lip, the guilt eating away at you.

“I want to help. How can I help?” Peter put a hand on your face, his thumb tracing the hallow of your cheek. It then tracked its way to your lip, pulling it from your teeth before quickly replacing it.

You swirled your tongue around his thumb, sucking it in further. Peter threw his head back in a moan and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” You were doing this all wrong. You had caused Peter pain and you couldn’t fix it. Why couldn’t you fix him the way he fixed you? Peter only chuckled and you couldn’t understand what was so funny about you being a bad friend.

“It’s okay little lamb, it didn’t hurt. It felt really nice.” You beamed at him and the pride in your eyes made him feral.

“Really?” Of course, you were a pleaser. It would only make sense. This new revelation gave him so much more ammo. God, you were too good to be true. It was like he built you in a lab. In a way he kind of had.

“Yes, you’ve been such a good girl.” You preened at his words.

“Can you keep being a good girl for me?” You nodded your head and Peter used his thumb to pull your mouth open again.

“Stick your tongue out for me, yeah just like that, now breath through your nose.” You followed his instructions as he grabbed your hair, bringing you closer and closer to his member.

It felt heavy on your tongue, and a little tangy too. You wrapped your lips around him, tracing a prominent vein with your tongue. Peter threw his head back again and this time you continued. After a bit you felt his hand pull on your hair, pulling you away from his cock before slamming it back down. You choked around him and he kept you there, his other hand rubbing your cheek.

“There you go, there you go. You gotta breathe through your nose. Just relax, yeah. You’re doing so good for me little lamb.” You focused on his words, trying to follow his instruction. He moved your head back and forward again falling into a steady rhythm. He was hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, you could feel a sore spot where his tip kept hitting.

Above you, Peter was a panting mess. He was babbling and you felt proud of yourself for doing that to him. He was singing you praises about how good you felt, the great job that you were doing. He looked down at you and that was his reckoning. You were peering up at him, dick in your mouth and a slobbering mess. He saw the tears running down your cheeks and it took all of his strength to pull you away.

One day he would fuck that pretty face of yours but he couldn’t now. His goal was to make you fall in love with him. He had to show you how good he was at pleasuring you. He had to show you that he knew what you needed, what you wanted. He had to show you that he was the only person that could do that for you.

You pulled away with a soft pop and a smile. “Was that good?”

Peter brought you into a bruising kiss and you could taste the both of you. The blend was intoxicating. “Oh baby, you did so well.”

He was pushing you back into the bed as a hand moved back down to your core. His fingers moved around in the slick and you purred.

“Look at you little lamb, I just cleaned you up. Did you like sucking on Daddy’s dick like that, hmm?” You nodded your head, biting your lip in an attempt to lessen your grin.

His lips found the side of your neck, licking and biting on the supple skin. “Well you did such a good job, I think it’s only fair Daddy pay it forward.”

You tangled your hands in his hair, running the smooth locks through your fingers. “No, it’s okay. I wanna make you feel good.”

His fingers found your abused clit and you arched your back into him. “Oh little lamb, It’ll make me feel so much better.”

He pulled away as you looked at him through heavy eyelids. “Do you promise, Daddy?”

Peter growled before attacking you. His kiss was heavy making you lose any train of thought.

“Promise.” You felt a blinding pain in your core. Your nails racked up his back as you grasp for the air he seemed to have pushed out of you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’ll feel better in a moment.” He kissed away the tears running down your face, massaging your breast. He began pulling out slowly leaving only his tip, then slammed back into you. The pain was beginning to subside or maybe it was just him working your clit and hitting something in you that made your toes curl.

He grabbed one of your legs, bringing your ankle to his shoulder, pushing himself deeper. A moan ripped from your throat, as you felt him hit your cervix, over and over. You reached for his face, needing to kiss him. Wanting all of him. You needed to drown in everything Peter Parker could give you.

His hand found the back of your neck once again. You clung to him as his thumb traced its way down your jugular. He could feel it drumming against his skin, he pushed against it, fascinated by you. You suddenly felt airy, your mind was swimming and your senses were heightened. Peter felt the way you tightened around him and the way your heart picked up.

He brought his hand to the front of your throat, adjusting his grip, before applying more pressure. You moaned as he continued to piston into you. The coil in your abdomen was moments from snapping, your legs were tensing on their own accord. You were no longer in control, not that you ever were.

Peter had bewitched you. You weren't sure when but you looked into his eyes and knew that it must have happened. Your vision was getting blurry, with tears or lack of oxygen you weren’t sure. You heard Peter whisper something to you, something you couldn't quite make out past the sound of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. Then his fingers released you. The sudden rush of oxygen to your brain made you feel dizzy, your nerves alight. You came with a gasp and Peter didn’t slow down for a single second.

He continued slamming into you as you lay there limp, unable to do much more. He flipped you over on your face and grabbed your hips, setting them upright. He kissed along your spine before entering you again. You cried out into the pillows, he was so big and so deep inside you. You wondered for a moment if the constant rocking had affected your brain.

He was using your body and you didn’t hate it. He gave you all the praise you could hope for and you got to sit there and take it. It seemed like a great arrangement. Your fingers gripped the sheets, clawing at them desperately. There was a certain element of pain present but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he felt this amazing.

“God, you feel so good. Better than ever before.” You let yourself drown in the words he was saying, in the feeling he was bringing you. He was fixing it. Just like he promised. It wasn’t long until he let out a harsh grunt, pushing himself even farther into you. You felt his dick twitch and a warmth coat your walls.

When Peter pulled out he noticed you wince. He turned you around to face him and began massaging your body. His firm hands ran past the muscle of your thighs to the fat on your stomach with soothing circles. You looked devastatingly gorgeous like this. Completely wrecked, totally relaxed, entirely pliant.

You made grabby hands for him and he chuckled as he fell into your embrace. You brought him flush to your sweaty body, running your hands through his chestnut locks. He hummed against you and you couldn’t help the smile pulling at your face.

“Hey, Peter?” He could sense your anxiety, which is never a good sign. He was so sure his plan had worked.

“Yes, little lamb?” Your fingers stuttered in their ministrations as you fought for the words.

“I- I was just wondering…” The words died in your throat. Peter moved his head, so he could look into your eyes.

“Wondering if what?” You closed your eyes, feeling too overwhelmed by his gaze. You thought about what had led you here in the first place. You thought of the revelation you had as you first wrapped your arms around him. To lose any of him would be to lose him all. You couldn’t ask him to stop. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. You felt terrible. How could you even ask him to do that? How could you be so selfish?

“Uhhh, what are we? Like now? Are we still friends? Are we more?” Peter tilted his head as he pondered your question.

“Well, what do you want?” You felt all the air leave your body, suddenly replaced entirely with fear.

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you, forever.” Peter raised himself with his arms, now hovering over your body. The space between you palpable now as he searched your eyes.

“Then you have me,” He kissed you, it was a promise.

A Peter Parker promise was a binding contract. He chose his words with such precision, he never said something without resounding contemplation. He pressed his words into your soul, branding you for the rest of your days.

“Forever.”

Tag List: @andrews-lovr @brinaslittlefreak @ilovemoonknight @negasonic-teenage-asshole @preciousbabypeter @princesskittycatofmeowland @rudy-the-winged-wolf @whoreforklitz @liz-allyn and @blooming-violets this sequel is for you. Hope y'all enjoy :))

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nineinchclaws · 9 months

Text

🦇⠀peter b. parker & nsfw headcanons

fandom⠀spiderverse

character/s⠀peter b. parker

warning(s)⠀sexually explicit content, talk of face sitting but other than that i tried to keep things at neutral and vague as i could

tags⠀switch!peter, switch!reader, gender neutral reader, established relationship

note(s)⠀first post on this blog yippy!!!! i need him carnally

divider⠀firefly-graphics

*⠀first and foremost: BONDAGE‼️‼️ he is spider-man he has webs and he will use them to tie up not just his enemies, but his partner, too!! i think he'd typically use his webs as a last option if he didn't have access to anything else. he also definitely has body safe handcuffs and bondage gear.

*⠀that includes a collar and leash. yummy.

*⠀he might also use his webs for suspension, on occasion.

*⠀he'll also use his webs as a gag if you get too loud.

*⠀loves receiving oral but loves giving it even more. with his increased strength, he has no trouble pinning your hips down or to a wall, or holding your legs open.

*⠀SIT on his face. again, with his strength, he'll hold you down onto his face by your hips or thighs. he'll slap your ass and growl out a quiet, "sit." if you even dare hover the slightest bit.

*⠀something something what doja cat said about big noses.

*⠀ considering his stamina, he could usually go for 3 or 4 rounds at least.

*⠀very, very much into praise. he'll talk you through it as well, guiding you and letting you know what he's about to do.

*⠀petnames ❤️ his favourites are "sweetheart" and "doll". also loves to pull out "good girl/boy/pet, etc." sometimes.

*⠀his favourite sex positions are missionary, pronebone, and cowgirl. very much loves being ridden and getting to see your expressions.

*⠀somewhere between soft and rough. while he usually prefers to be on the softer side, he can and will get rough especially if you're being bratty.

*⠀which leads me onto the next one: brat tamer. 100%. being disobedient is a quick way to turn him on even more, and he won't hesitate to discipline you.

*⠀switch, and while he is mostly dominant, he will let you take the lead on occasion.

*⠀he's quite vocal. he tries not to be, but he can't help letting out whimpers and groans, as much as he tries to keep his voice down.

*⠀becomes a bit of a mess if you praise him. with how much he's had to deal with, he could use some compliments and especially in the bedroom.

*⠀isn't super into edging, but sometimes, if he's feeling mean, he'll stop before you can finish. he might do it a couple more times before he lets you cum.

*⠀that man is a thigh man. he loves thighs. he loves boobs too but thighs especially.

*⠀he growls. goodnight.

#nic after dark #headcanons #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker #gender neutral reader

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

Note

Can i ask for a dark! Peter Parker that is super clingy?

[TW: mentions of suicide, self-harm, unhealthy relationships, involuntary drug consumption]

>>500 followers special!<<

Clingy Dark!Peter Parker

It's exam season and I'm panicking how's life going for yall

Clingy Peter is like a koala bear

Just hangs on to you and doesn't let go

Except that koala bear is completely unhinged, so more like a drop bear really

Two weeks into the relationship he was ready to get married tbh

Has he drugged you to cuddle you a little longer? Most definitely

More than once probably, rip your liver

Would deliberately hurt himself to have your attention

"Pretends" to be a danger to himself

(he already is, just tends to embellish it with very dramatic acting)

"I don't want to hurt myself when you're around"

Definitely has threatened/hinted that he would kill himself as a last resort to have you stay with him -> not necessarily in a break-up situation, even a "it's late and I should go home" situation

Fake crying/meltdown/breakdown so you hug him

"No, no, no, don't leave me!"

You were just going to the store

If you pay too much attention to someone else, even a relative, he goes through a legitimate depressive episode

If he doesn't have your undivided attention he will make up a wild story to have you pity love him

His hand is constantly on or around you

Gets fidgety and irritable when you're not around

Camps out outside the bathrooms waiting for you but only because you started a fight once about a grown man going into the women's restroom

Whatever you're doing, wherever you're going, he's coming with you

Your friends regularly point out how unhealthy that is, so Peter gets quietly angry: he can't have you believe them

He might or might not have bludgeoned some of them into a near-death state

The blood on him is because he hurt himself and he needs your attention...right?

If you manage to hang out on your own or with someone, Peter's stalking you without a doubt

If you don't text/call him back right away, he starts to genuinely panic

Scares away any man you know (the ancient art of threats, blackmailing and caving someone's face in), maybe except for a male parental figure if you have one - it would be very counter-productive to have your parents/guardians wary of him

I feel like he would easily worm his way into your mother's/female parental figure's heart with that sheepish look he has

Asks if you still love him like three times a day at least

Stalks your social media and gets upset at any mention/picture that involves someone else

Peter's thoughts would spiral if you as much as don't give him a forehead kiss first thing in the morning

For him it's an immediate sign you're probably angry or hate him and that's he's not good enough and you love someone else and-

No, you're just still sleepy and detached from reality

If you're anything but chipper he's preparing for you to confess your hatred towards him, which, let's be honest, is not going to happen anytime soon

His hugs crush bones and suffocate, Peter's like a scared toddler holding a teddy bear

Which is a pretty good analogy, really: he's terrified of you leaving him (in any sense of the word) and he's convinced that aside from you there is nothing worth living for

If you're just doing some chores around the house, he's either helping you or following you around

You could be cooking or ironing and he's just standing there, back hugging you silently

Because of his clearly unstable emotional state, you developed a habit of frequently telling him you love him and asking him if he's okay

Peter's a huge fan of that

You can barely talk to anyone without him getting upset, so he's easily alienating you from your social circles

_______

@restingbitchsblog

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yanderestarangel · 1 month

Note

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

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

Your writing is absolutely amazing!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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angelltheninth · 2 years

Text

NSFW Masterlist Part 2

Part 2 of my NSFW Master list.

DC COMICS

Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader - Night on the Rooftops

Bruce Wayne Being a Sloppy Eater

Harley Quinn x Male!Reader - Fun Times All Around

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Game On

Dark!Conner Kent x Fem!Reader - Darkness Come to Light

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Jason's Hardest Task

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Fulfilling Desires

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Just One More

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Not Just a Friend

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Ride Around Town

MCU

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader - Endurance Test

M'Baku x Fem!Reader - Used to This Feeling

Venom x Fem!Reader - Symbiotic Relations

Steven Grant with a Praising and Overstimulating You

Hydra!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader - To Have and to Take

Moon Boys Reaction to Ball Sucking

Moon Boys + Where They Like to Do It

Aftercare with Moon Boys

MCU Men Punishing You

Hydra Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader - Making You His

Moon Boys + Thigh Riding

Moon Boys Pining You

Moon Boys Reacting to Getting a Blowjob

Dominant Jake Lockley

Pietro Maximoff x Fem!Reader - Forever and a Day

Hooking Up with Steven Grant and Marc Spector

Marc Spector x Fem!Reader - Minor Cooking Accident

General NSFW Headcanons with Steven Grant and Marc Spector

Pietro Maximoff with a Praise Kink

Long Distance Relationship with Pietro Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff + Grinding

NSFW Alphabet with Xu Wenwu

Rough Sex with Xu Wenwu

TWISTED WONDERLAND

Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader - Different Kind of Heat

Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader - Not So Perfect Anymore

Overstimulation with Cater Diamond

Leona Kingscholar x Fem!Reader - Kingmaker

Corruption Kink with Idia Shroud

Trey Clover x Fem!Reader - Tears for Pleasure

Azul Ashengrotto x Reader - Under the Bubbles

Rook Hunt x Fem!Reader - Hunting Prey

Divus Crewel x Fem!Reader - Call Me Cruel

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader - My Fangs for You

Leona Kingscholar x Fem!Reader - A Welcome Awakening

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader - Dragon Love

CRITICAL ROLE

Percy de Rolo x Fem!Reader - The Gunslinger and His Beauty

Fjord Stone x Male!Reader NSFW Headcanons

Essek x Male!Reader NSFW Headcanons

Percy de Rolo x Vax'ildan + Grinding

Percy e Rolo x Fem!Reader - Nice and Warm

NSFW Headcanons with Percy de Rolo

GENSHIN IMPACT

Jealous Dottore Breeds You

Genshin Men After You Use the Safeword

Genshin Men Fucking You When Someone Comes In

Kink Discovery with Al Haitham

Size Kink with Dainslief, Enjou and Pantalone

Genshin Men + Scenting

Thigh Riding with Al Haitham

Thigh Kissing with Cyno

Thigh Riding with Kaeya and Dottore

Dottore with a Corruption Kink

CEO!Childe x Secretary!Fem!Reader

General Kinks with Dottore, Pantalone and Pierro

Zhongli, Gorou and Tighnari Having Their Rut Triggered

Dottore, Childe and Pantalone with a Fox!Reader

Fem!Dottore with a Fem!Reader who has Small Chest

Zhongli and Childe With a Quiet S/O

Genshin Men with a Fem!Reader who has Big Chest

Cockwaming Itto

Genshin Men Being Feral

Edging Al Haitham

Zhongli and Itto Giving You a Mating Mark

Genshin Men with an S/O who has Small Chest

Genshin Men Fucking You in Public

Itto, Zhongli, Gorou and Tighnari with a Primal Kink

Gorou Being a Mean Dom

Genshin Men Reacting to You Wanting to Go for Another Round

Half-Adeptai Zhongli

Genshin Men When You're Inexperienced

Cockwaming Zhongli

Zhongli with a Breeding Kink

Orgasm Control with Genshin Men

Itto, Gorou and Zhongli in Rut

Genshin Impact Men + Awkward Boners

First Time Blowjob with Genshin Men

Genshin Men Having A Quickie With You

Thoma Being a Service Top

Genshin Men Using Toys on You

Dottore x Fem!Reader - Please Doctor

Genshin Men + Thigh Riding

Genshin Men + Breeding Kink

Genshin Men Stamina Headcanons

Genshin Men Being Desperate To Have You

Genshin Men + Praise

Genshin Men Reacting to You Wanting Them to Finish Inside of You

Genshin Men + Grinding Headcanons

Zhongli x Fem!Reader - Sharing the Warmth

Genshin Men + First Time With You

Driving Zhongli Crazy Until He Snaps

Dominat Arlecchino Headcanons

#masterlist #dc comics x reader #mcu x reader #twst x reader #critical role x reader #genshin impact x reader

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celaenaeiln · 7 months

Note

Do you have any fic recs where dicks relationship with the batfam is the focus?

Yes! These are all fics I've adored

FAVORITE!! I place this fic on a pedestal. It's one of the best fics of all time - The primacy of personal conscience

Favorite! Another one of my all time favorites. Dick, Jason, Tim are deaged to their robin eras and Damian and Bruce are in their current ages - Just, How

Dick gets split into three personalities - The choice to be seen

FAVORITE!! - Dick's buried. But like hell is the batfamily going to let it stay that way - The unnecessary requiem

ALL of CamsthiSky's fics focus of Dick's batfam relations and are good reads - Link

Small moments with Dick and the family - Snippets

Dick, Damian, and Tim. Absent parent Bruce and needy Bruce are the same person as always- prodigal

Favorite! Dick and Damian's relationship and evolution - Snapshots

Sad fic if Dick's reaction after Ric was darker - Strength in a Lack of Continuity

Batfamily's reaction to Dick's sexual objectification - I can't hear you, I don't fear you now

Good fic about something I don't remember (sorry! It's been years but I saved it so it must be good) with young justice and batfamily reactions that were accurate - End Days

If Bruce was a lot darker and acted on his overprotective tendencies collection. It's centered around Dick - Darkish Batfamily

How the batfamily reacts to Dick getting shot in the head - Fallen

Dick buys a bunch of plants and bonds with all of them - let your love grow tall

All of Danishsweethearts works are good - Danishsweethearts

Sad fic about Dick being batman again and batfamily's reaction. I think Tim would react differently. Maybe. But it's a fantastic angst fic - My life's going by but it's just begun

Dick, Damian, and Dick's massive group of friend and allies - Missed a spot

Dick's a civilian but he's still their big brother - Those times that Dick Grayson got tangled up with the batfamily

Dick, Peter Parker, Cat Noir, Danny Fenton and their fathers. PS they're all socialite friends. This has to be canon - The Black Tux Gang

Angst story about Dick if he had mental illness. No happy ending - Shattered Tea Cups

Dick is a changed man after spyral and batfamily's reaction - Downward spyral

Someone planning a hit on Nightwing? Not if Nightwing does it on himself first (fun) - Money for daffodils

Favorite! Dick has retrograde amnesia and Bruce struggles to cope - Harbor

Dick died seven years ago. And then woke up - Faith and fate

Dick's secret abilities the batfamily doesn't notice - Unusual skills and habits

The truth of Dick's death and everyone's reaction - Code B

Favorite! Dick is Talon, Tim is Red Hood, and Jason is Red Robin - A New Adversary

Favorite! Jason and Dick are close. Told through the eyes of everyone else - proximity

Soft fic. ABO but Dick acting as Tim and Damian's mother - Your truth is a deception meant to poison me

Dick's gone but the rape of him is not. The batfamily will avenge their brother. The whole world will - Take the night back

ABO robin reversal collection - Robin Reversal ABO

Werewolf au where Dick meets Jason and Bruce comes along - Den and Pack

If Dick got deaged to renegade era - Pause in the Pendulum

Sweet fic about the Batbros seeking comfort in Dick - Haven

Favorite! Duke time! The Batfamily teasing Dick lovingly - Shenanigans

Dark batfam fic around Dick - Gaslight Manor

Dick will do anything to protect his family (Has Constantine/Dick) - Time (to protect you)

If Dick was Terry McGinnis' biological father - Beyond the Night Collection

Talon!Dick in the Teen Titans universe with batfamily - Just a dead kid

Angst, sad fic about Dick getting tired of being the mediator - Please just get along (I can't do this anymore)

One of my all time favorites - Everyday one headcanon about Nightwing

Batfamily mourning the loss of Dick's hair - He's shorn, we're torn

Jason tries stealing in Bludhaven rather than Gotham. He meets Nightwing instead of Batman and his life gets a whole lot better - Hot wheels

Stephanie time travels and meets Robin Dick! - Oops

Favorite! ALL of iloveyourwords' fics - iloveyourwords

Favorite! ALL of ScarlettSwordMoon's works - ScarlettSwordMoon

Angst fic. So much angst. Sometimes Jason's anger gets the worst of him but it's not because he doesn't care - not even rain has such small hands

Favorite! The heroes are forced to forget Dick. And they regret (has constantine/dick/zatanna) - Love that burned green against skin

Favorite! ALL of Kuroaki's works - Kuroaki

Dick, Tim, and Jason watch Encanto and, well, Surface Pressure was made for Dick - Who am I if I don't have what it takes

Pre-robin Dick. Dick's only fault is his over-competence - lightning is the shine (but I've been working on the thunder)

Favorite! Dick's name comes out of the Hogwart's cup. This changes everything and nothing - heavy is the crown

The batkids are unhinged. Poor jason - The AU noone asked for

Dick falls. And so does everyone else (iloveyourwords' fic) - icarus

FAVORITE!! Dick, Jason, Damian undercover on a cruise. Everything goes wrong - Like those foreign stars

YJ where Dick joins Deathstroke and Bruce breaks inside - Fallen son

Favorite! ALL of miss_aphelion's works - miss_aphelion

Here's a starter for miss_aphelion's works - Dick of Troy

Dick and Bruce in the eyes of the JL - Boy on the couch

Favorite! Dick is stuck in his dreamworld and his family just want him back - Happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow

Hunger Games Au! Dick volunteers as a tribute - To get a dream of life again

Dick and Bruce and Dick's graceful manipulation of people - Some men fall from grace. Some are pushed

Dick takes time away from Bruce and finds himself again - Local oldest child takes time away from family

FAVORITE!! One of ScarlettSwordMoon's works - shipping rivalries

FAVORITE!! Dick reveals his trauma through singing - A robin's song

FAVORITE!! Dick's personality gets split in three - Three is a party

Dick runs away to Bludhaven but the batfamily won't let things rest - What stalks in my shadows

FAVORITE!! The batfamily is stuck in a timeloop where they can't save Dick - One thousand, Three hundred, and Nine Hours

Tim being a cute menace and feral Dick - little menace

FAVORITE!! Damian has a few choice words to say about Bruce's treatment of Dick - The threat

Slade saves Dick from the Court of Owls and Rose's view of him - Quiet now, you're going to wake the beast

FAVORITE!! Bruce is gone and Dick is seeing ghosts. The batfamily just wants to protect him - The haunting of Wayne house

FAVORITE!! Deaged Dick and Damian collection - you've always loved the strange birds

Dick's been deaged wakes up in a world with 5 robins no thanks to Slade - persephone's in hell

FAVORITE!! The batfamily's in a time loop trying to save Dick - rewind, remix, retry, redo

Funny fics I'm in love with!

Hilarious and all-around fun - Batbros Wreck Havoc

Favorite! ALL of pupeez4eva's fics but here's a starter for fun - That Torturous Thing Known as Time Travel

More fun fic (can you tell I like the humorous ones?) - A Bunch of Ridiculousness

Don't mess with Dick from Jason's perspective. Jason, Dick, and Bruce - Dig Down Deep

Accurate fic about batfamily's reaction to Dick dating Joey - Families Ever Changing

AU: Justice League meeting Nightwing focusing on Dick, Bruce, and Barry - Starry eyed

(Sorry had to slip another one in) JL's reaction to Dick - Your call may be interrupted

The batfamily will not let anyone take cover pictures of Dick - The annual Bludhaven firefighter's calander for charity

Another JLA story. Dick was a wild child nightmare robin - Adventures in batsitting

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #jason todd #red hood #john constantine #justice league #dick grayson fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #thanks for the ask!#cl anon asks

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gatorbites-imagines · 9 months

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SPIDER NOIR⁉️⁉️⁉️

So I've read that spider noir has a organic web, which means there is a hole on their wrist that shoots webs.(wristussy)

So please, if you could.

I want reader (male/gn) to find out about the organic web

Maybe they were in the couch, holding hands, and reader rubs the lil hole,teasing it while noir is just squirming and saying to reader to stop (but they didn't, infact they did it harder) and then the web shoots out (i like to think its pretty sensitive), and noir is just being a flustered mess while reader is AMAZED lol.

-🥚

Peter Benjamin Parker/Spidernoir x Male reader

Headcanons

Artfight is pretty much over, so now I actually have time to write lmao

You and Noir had been dating for a while before you learned about the spinnerettes, especially if you don’t know that Noir was spiderman in the first place, then you’d have to figure that out first.

Because it’s the 30s you two aren’t able to be as open and affectionate as you may want, which most likely spills into your home life as well.

Most people just believe you are two poor guys who share an apartment, which wasn’t too unusual. Mix that with Peter being Jewish and antisemitism always being a thing, Peter needing a roommate would be even more plausible.

But because of the world you two live in, it’s difficult even being affectionate to one another when you are alone, because there’s always the fear of being caught and hurt because of it.

Maybe at some point in your relationship you two are able to move into an apartment building owned by another member of the lgbt community, where others like yourself and Peter live, allowing some of the paranoia and anxiety to leave you two.

It just means Peter has to be extra careful as spiderman, so that he wont lead the authorities to the building or somehow have the image of your community worsened by being associated with spiderman.

But living somewhere safe means you two dare being closer than before, especially if you live in an apartment where no one can see through your windows, except for maybe Peter who can climb up there.

It would lead to you two being able to be more affectionate, kissing more, holding each other, and cuddling on the couch as you watch your clunky tv play whatever was on back then, or listen to your radio playing music.

It might even cause you two to get a little bold, holding hands inside Peters pocket in public, or hooking your pinkies when no one is looking. It wouldn’t surprise me if Peter pulled you into dark alleyways or around corners to steal some kisses either.

Because you two can easier share affections now, it isn’t unusual for you two to just cuddle up on the couch holding hands, your thumb rubbing the back of his hand, or running your fingers over his knuckles.

Its when you are messing with his hands one day that you discover it, a small barely noticeable slit on his wrist. You learn later it was only visible because peters web pouches were full, as he hadn’t been out as spiderman in about a week because of injury.

You, of course, are curious. So, you immediately touch it, rubbing your thumb across it and pulling at the edges of it a bit in interest. To your surprise Peter jolts and makes a noise you rarely hear from him.

He would be extremely flustered as he covers his face with his other hand, quietly asking you to quit doing that, but he doesn’t pull his hand back to himself or anything, so of course you keep it up.

As you rub at the spinnerettes Peter would grow louder in his noises, his entire spine straightening as a whimper leaves him. Under his hand he’s biting his lip hard enough to break skin, his face completely dark from the flush that’s spreading all the way down his neck.

At some point you press hard enough on the slit that suddenly Peter seems to have had enough, lunging at you, and pinning your hands above your head as he pins you down. His hair is ruffled, and his glasses are askew, and his still chewing his lip as he looks at you with a flustered face.

You learn that night that his spinnerettes are quite sensitive, but might be just what you need to get him worked up if you need it.

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spider-stark · 1 month

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INFINITELY YOU

part one // back at the beginning

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 5.4k

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

The world seemed to slip out from under you, fracturing beneath your feet and leaving you to sink into a deep, dark hole.

It was quiet—so unbearably quiet—and the tension between you and your estranged friends had become so thick that you feared it would soon take form and seep into your lungs. Maybe that would be for the best, you thought, wondering if suffocating on your collective grief would somehow be easier than whatever came next.

“Aunt May…” You sputtered, unable to force the words out. Shaking your head, you asked, “Are you sure?”

God, what a stupid question. You almost wanted to slap yourself for asking something so mindless.

Ned’s lips pressed into a thin line, trying to swallow his own sorrow. “I wish we weren’t,” he said with a small, wistful chuckle, still too shocked to fully acknowledge the gravity of it all. “But… yeah, we’re sure. She’s… She’s gone.”

Your heart sank, unable to think of the right string of words to form a reply.

With your mind reeling, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that this was some sort of cruel joke–the kind where the punchline would never quite hit. But all it took was one look at the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks of Ned and Mj to know that they were telling the truth.

She was dead—Aunt May was dead.

And, somehow, it seemed as though that wasn’t even the worst part of the mess your friends had gotten themselves in.

“I know that it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Ned started back up, perhaps noticing the way the color seemed to drain from your face. “If you need me to go back over it or explain anything then I can-”

You stopped listening to him, staring blankly at the doormat beneath their feet. They hadn’t even bothered to come inside your apartment, too panicked to waste any time before delving into the details about Doctor Strange and the multiverse and other Spider-Man’s.

But honestly, you didn’t care about any of that.

You didn’t care about string theory or whatever multiversal villains had apparently slipped into your world—because you couldn’t stop thinking about what Ned had said about how May died. It hurt to think about it, the shrapnel and debris that had torn her flesh, the glider that had punctured her side and left her bleeding out in Peter’s arms…

Aunt May had died a horrific and brutal death, and you weren’t sure that there would ever be any way for you to come to terms with that.

“Peter,” you finally spoke, fire raging in your eyes as you looked at Ned. “Where is Peter?”

He spared Mj a sidelong glance, as if silently asking for her permission to answer. Frustration began to prick your skin, crawling up your spine as your stare turned harsh, offended that he didn’t just tell you outright. You knew that things between the four of you hadn’t ended well, but this…

Mj crossed her arms, looking almost as frustrated as you were with Ned’s choice to look to her for permission, and decided to answer in his place.

“Downstairs,” she told you, her tone purposefully clipped as a way to show that the wounds sustained in the downfall of your friendship had not yet healed–and you didn’t care, because you knew that yours hadn’t either.

“Is he…” you trailed off, not sure how to say it. If May’s death had been so brutal, then God knows what kind of injuries Peter might’ve sustained in the fight?

But you didn’t have to speak, because whether the two of you liked it or not, you had been friends—and she always knew what you were thinking. “He’s safe,” she told you, quelling your nerves just a little. A reluctant sigh slipped her lips, shaking her head as she added, “But he’s not okay.”

You knew what she meant—physically Peter had survived the fight with this Goblin man that they had told you about, but mentally…

You understood why she was hesitant to tell you about it, too. Of the three of you, there was only one that had ever been able to delve down into the depths of Peter’s trauma and help him claw his way back out of the gnawing pit that threatened to consume him—and it wasn’t either of them.

And, just as Mj knew you, you knew her.

She didn’t want you around Peter, not anymore—and so if she was willingly telling you that he wasn’t okay, then it meant that she knew how much he truly needed you right now.

“You guys should’ve told me sooner,” you grit your teeth, desperately trying to bite back against the resentment rising in your throat. “You should’ve told me as soon as all of this started, instead of waiting until everything went to shit.”

It wasn’t your intention to sound bitter, but that didn’t stop you from coming across that way. Ned recoiled from your tone like a blow, but you didn’t have it in you to feel guilty right now.

They had been dealing with all of this multiversal crisis bullshit for nearly a week now—and yet none of them had thought to say a single word to you until now. And while you knew that your presence likely wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had unfolded, it still hurt.

And it still made you angry.

“What do you need me to do?” You asked after realizing that neither of them intended to respond to your sharp statement.

“Well,” Ned started, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms against his khakis, “it’s gonna take us some time to figure out where the villains are hiding, and even longer to work out what to do with them. And, since these other Peter’s have dealt with these guys before, we could really use their help…”

He trailed off, once again looking to Mj, this time to silently urge her to finish his sentence.

She rolled her eyes. “We need you to let them stay here.”

Your brows furrowed, glancing between the two of them as if once again waiting for some sort of punchline to hit. It didn’t.

“It might take us a bit–a few weeks, maybe—to find all of them and stop them. And now that Happy’s complex was literally blown to pieces, we don’t have anywhere for the two of them to stay while they help out.” Mj tried to explain. She looked defeated when she said, “We didn’t know who else we could go to that would actually understand.”

Understand.

If you weren’t still reeling from everything they had just told you, then you probably would have laughed at the word. You would hardly say that you understood what was going on—but you knew what she was getting.

Mj’s dad would hardly allow two random men to stay in his house with them, and Ned’s Lola probably wasn’t too keen on the idea either. With Happy’s place destroyed, they had nowhere left to turn.

You weren’t sure how to feel now that you knew they had only come to you because you were their last choice.

At the risk of aggravating Mj, you said, “I wanna talk to Peter.”

“I don’t know if now’s a good time,” Mj swiftly shot back. “I told you that’s he’s not okay—”

“But he’s here,” you stated, nodding your head towards the stairs somewhere behind them that led back down to the lobby. “And you’re insane if you think I’m gonna agree to let two random ass men stay in my house without at least knowing what his plan is.”

Mj bristled at the harshness of your tone; and so did you.

You weren’t used to this.

Mj had been your friend for far longer than she had been whatever she was to you now, and neither of you were used to this—to your once special connection being reduced to nothing more than strained conversations and fractured feelings towards one another.

“Fine,” Mj surrendered, her hands lifting slightly. “Do whatever you want.”

It wasn’t until then that you realized that you had been waiting for her permission, even though you didn’t believe you truly needed it. Peter was your friend—and he had been your friend long before he even knew Mj. If you wanted to talk to him, then you had every right to.

Yet you still hadn’t been able to will yourself to push between the two of them until she had spoken, side-stepping to let you pass. When you started descending the stairs to the lobby, you were shocked that neither she nor Ned followed, offering you a sense of privacy with Peter that you hadn’t expected—as if she still held some shred of trust in you.

You didn’t want to think about it though, unsure of how you felt about that, too.

Halfway down the dank stairway of your complex, you felt a shiver dance along your spine. It prickled your skin and set your nerves on edge, but it didn’t catch you off guard. You always felt this way when Peter was around—as if your body could always sense when he was around, even when you hadn’t yet seen him.

The last step creaked when you placed your weight onto it, and from across the poorly maintained lobby, Peter’s neck snapped in your direction at the sound.

It felt like ice skittered across your bones at the sight of him, your heart lurching against your ribcage.

You had gotten used to seeing Peter battered and bruised years ago. Even before he became Spider-Man, he often found himself the victim of bullies and assholes, rarely going more than a few weeks without a busted lip or a new bruise. But this…

This was different, somehow.

It wasn’t just the blood-stained suit that set your heart racing, nor was it the lacerated skin or his sweat-matted hair. No, those things were normal—in the same way that being bitten by a radioactive spider was normal.

It was even normal to see him standing before you, his chin high and shoulders back, presenting a perfect image of strength even after experiencing something as traumatic as losing May.

Peter’s relationship with trauma had been intimate enough these past few years that you weren’t shocked to see him like this, standing tall rather than balling up and crying on the floor. You figured that was what most others would do if they were in his situation.

But Peter wasn’t like other people.

Peter was a hero—and if you had learned anything about heroes in your lifetime, it was that they were incredible liars.

His eyes couldn't lie, though.

Bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion, his eyes were what had made you feel so sick, your stomach twisting itself into knots.

They lacked the life and hope of the boy you had loved so dearly, replaced with something like rage—a pure, unbridled and unrelenting type of rage. Looking at him now you couldn’t ignore the burning talon that seemed to rake against your mind, filling your brain with thoughts you didn’t want to think right now—telling you that looking at Peter now, with the light draining from his eyes, was the same as looking in a mirror.

“Peter,” a metallic tang danced on your tongue as you dug your teeth into your cheek, biting back against the tears threatening to well-up in your eyes.

Letting your instincts guide you, you rushed across the lobby to where he stood by the front door, reaching for his hand without a second thought.

His suit had been torn along his palm, and as you felt the warmth radiating from his calloused skin, you tried to take some comfort in the fact that at least he had survived—even if you still weren’t ready to accept that May hadn’t.

“Don’t,” He yanked his hand back from you, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

You froze for half a heartbeat, your hand hanging awkwardly in-between the two of you. “I wasn’t going to.”

You weren’t sure if you were telling the truth, but it didn’t seem to matter either way.

Either way, you tried to understand his reaction, even as you winced from the sting of rejection. What good would an apology really do for a boy who had already lost everything?

It wouldn’t bring the light back to his eyes.

It wouldn’t bring May back to life.

“Ned told me everything,” you told him, unwilling or unable to say Mj’s name right now. You clenched and unclenched your fists, painfully aware of the absence of his warmth. “You know I’ll do anything I can to help, so just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”

Peter scoffed, his jaw tensing. “We both know that what I want doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly. Motioning to your surroundings, he continued, “If what I wanted mattered, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t be asking for your help—wouldn’t be dragging another person into this and asking them to risk their life!”

You did your best not to react, knowing that he hadn’t meant it quite as bad as it sounded. It already hurt knowing that you had been Mj and Ned’s last choice for help, but knowing that Peter didn’t want you to be a choice at all hurt far worse—even if it was to keep you safe.

“Well, you’re here now,” you told him, keeping your voice steady. “So you might as well tell me what your plan is—or at least tell me how long I’ll need to play bunkmates with strangers.”

You were lying when you had told Mj and Ned that you needed to talk to Peter before agreeing to let the alternate Spider-Men stay in your apartment—you didn’t care about housing with strangers, aware that there was nothing they could do to you that you haven't endured before.

Selfishly, you had just wanted a reason to come down and talk to him. To see him. To know that he was alive. You didn’t care about anything else.

Sometimes you worried that you didn’t even care about your own life, only Peter’s.

But Peter cared about your life—far more than you would ever want him to.

“My plan doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone clipped, “cause I don’t want you getting involved. And I definitely don’t want you to let those guys stay here, alright? We don’t know them.”

You steeled yourself, resisting the urge to argue with him and instead asking a simple question. “Do you have anywhere else for them to go?”

He didn’t respond, huffing out a breath, already frustrated with the defiance he knew you were about to display.

“You might not want my help, but if Ned’s right–” you told him, gesturing backwards towards the staircase, “–which he usually is—then you’re gonna need these guys.”

“But that doesn’t mean we need you,” Peter protested gruffly.

Your chest tightened, but you kept shoving back against the hurt. Later, you would deal with that later.

“It doesn’t matter if you need me,” you retorted with a defiant tilt of your chin, unwavering as his rageful gaze seemed to pierce through your skull, “because you’re stuck with me either way.”

You hadn’t expected the statement to affect him, but it did, his voice softening slightly. “I always have been.”

“Exactly. So you might as well make this easy on the both of us and not fight me on it,” you declared, trying to conjure up the most convincing smile you could offer. “Let me help, Peter.”

A sigh slipped his lips, heavy with reluctant resignation as he realized he wasn’t winning this battle. “We’ve already lost so many people… I’ve lost so many people. And there’s already enough blood on my hands,” he said, lifting his hands to display the torn, blood-stained fabric, driving his point home. “It doesn’t matter what I say—so let them stay here or don’t, I don’t care. But just know that whatever happens to you, it’s not on me. Because I told you to stay out of it, alright?”

He took a step closer, and you didn’t dare move a single muscle as his lips hovered just inches from your own. “Do whatever you want,” his voice was barely a whisper, laced with a venomous edge that nearly made you tremble, “but don’t expect me to come running to save you when it all goes to shit.”

His words hung in the air like a curse, lingering in the lobby for far longer than he did. As soon as the promise had left his lips, he was already turning on his heel and shoving the door open, abandoning you in the dim space.

You knew better than to think he meant it.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You stuck your hands beneath the running faucet, scrubbing the blood from a jagged cut on your palm. It wasn’t all that deep, shallow enough that it probably wouldn't even leave a scar once healed. When you were done rinsing it, you cupped your hands and gathered the water in them, splashing your reddened cheeks.

Crying would have been a normal part of grieving for May, and when you forced yourself to look back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but wish that you could’ve been a little more normal.

But tears hadn’t been the cause of your flushed appearance—no, because you had never been very good at expressing the more delicate emotions, like sadness.

You were good at expressing anger, though.

You were very good at expressing anger.

After Peter had stormed out of the lobby and abandoned you to choke on his cruel promise, it had taken you several minutes to work up the nerve to go back upstairs and face Mj and Ned. By some stroke of luck you had managed to keep a tight leash on your often volatile attitude, telling them your decision to let the other Peter’s stay with you.

And then you lost control as soon as they left, loosening the reins on your anger and taking the uncomfortable feelings out on a nearby potted plant, shouting curses as you tossed it at the wall.

By the time you thought to clean it up, after finishing another string of irate profanities, your hands had been shaking so bad that you cut yourself on one of the dirt-covered shards. And maybe, once you felt the jagged ceramic dig into your palm, you should’ve hissed or cursed more or stopped cleaning to patch yourself up.

But you didn’t. You stayed quiet, continuing to pluck the shattered fragments off the floor until you had gotten them all, dumping them into the trash before grabbing the broom and dustpan and cleaning the dirt and scattered leaves, too.

There were more important things to deal with than cleaning a dirty wound.

Like making sure none of your friends could see that you weren’t nearly as composed as you tried to seem.

The familiar rhythmic rapping of Mj’s knuckles against the front door made you forgo the bandage you were going to fix to your palm, tossing the rag you’d used to dry your face into the sink and heading straight to the living room.

Carefully shoving your injured hand into your pocket, you opened the door and tried not to look surprised when Peter wasn’t standing in-between Mj and Ned. Of course he hadn’t come with them—why would he? He had already made it clear how he felt about all of this.

It did become significantly harder to mask your shock however when a tall, messy haired boy stepped into view from behind them, clad in a crimson and cobalt webbed suit.

“Get inside,” you hissed a bit harsher than intended, stepping aside and waving the three of them into your apartment.

The last thing you needed was your neighbors seeing an unmasked, alternate version of Spider-Man standing in front of your door. It had already been risky enough that Peter had come here in his suit, standing in the lobby and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Once they were inside, you shut the door and turned to Ned. “I thought you said there were two of them,” you noted, avoiding looking at the lanky Spider-Man who seemed just as desperate to avoid you, busying himself with walking around the room and studying the art on the walls.

Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”

“Not that he didn’t want to come,” Mj pointedly corrected him, frowning at his bluntness. “He just wanted to keep patrolling. The Goblin, the one who…” she cut herself off, unable to force the words off her tongue. Scrapping the sentence altogether, she started again, “The Goblin’s from his world, so he seemed to think that he had the best chance of hunting him down. But we gave him the address.”

You didn’t bother giving her an actual response, a subtle nod the only sign you had heard her at all. She didn’t seem to care much, just as unsure of what to say to you as you were to her.

“So,” Ned clicked his tongue, trying to cut through the growing tension. “This is Peter 3!” He announced, gesturing to the other Peter, who was picking up a frame that had been face down on an end table. “That’s what we’re calling him, at least. Y’know, to tell them apart. The other one is Peter 2.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Creative.”

Done dawdling over Ned and Mj, you forced yourself to look at the un-masked hero from another world. He was placing the frame back onto the table—not face down, as he had found it, but up-right. You frowned at the photograph it displayed, a picture of you, Ned, Mj, and Peter from sometime last year.

“You’re awfully nosy,” you told him, your voice like ice.

His muscles tensed, hesitating as he faced your gaze. “Sorry,”

His voice was slightly deeper than Peter’s, his hair a shade or two darker, his features a bit less soft, but still noticeably young, putting him in his early twenties at most. Truthfully, if it weren’t for the suit he was wearing, you would’ve never guessed that he was supposed to be the Peter Parker of another world.

You had expected him to be more… Peter-like, in appearance, and yet as far as you could tell the resemblances were very slight, if they even existed at all.

The mannerisms were there, though. The subtleties of Peter Parker, the things that most people never noticed and yet were ingrained in your mind. He licked his lips, a nervous tic that left you always carrying chapstick in your pocket. His hands hung at his sides and you saw the way his thumb tapped against each of his fingers, starting with his index and ending with his pinky, only to start over again.

Watching him, taking note of every familiar twitch and tic and habit, made something in your chest tighten.

And, when you told him your name, it was as if your icy tone had melted altogether. “It’s nice to meet you.”

For a moment you thought he wouldn’t respond, his throat bobbing as he swallowed roughly, eyes darting around the room. But then, suddenly, he gave you a weak smile. “You too.” A trace of amusement laced his response, too subtle for you to detect.

“We’ve gotta go,” Ned suddenly spoke, jutting a thumb towards the door. “Peter’s waiting outside so he can make sure we get home safe, but-” he stopped, brows furrowing as considered whether he should finish. “But text us later, okay? Just to let us know that you’re okay.”

Your heart stuttered at the mention of Peter’s name, at knowing that he actually had come—even if it hadn’t been for you—but you didn’t mention it.

Instead, you focused on Ned, giving your sweet friend the kindest smile you could muster—which, admittedly, didn’t feel like much. Despite everything that had happened with your friends in the past few months, your fight had never been with Ned. He was just caught in the middle, unfairly forced to pick sides.

And you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for picking Peter. Not when you knew that you would’ve done the same.

“I will,” you promised.

Ned gave you an equally somber smile before opening the door to leave. Even once Ned was in the hall, already descending the staircase, Mj lingered in the entryway—not for long, a heartbeat, maybe—turning back towards you just long enough to mutter, “Keep your guard up.”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything back to her before she let the door slam shut, following quickly after Ned and leaving you alone with… this guy.

The other Peter had abandoned his spot by the end table, seemingly done with investigating your apartment and left to do nothing but stand awkwardly a few feet away from you, clearly unsure of what to do or say now that it was just the two of you.

“So,” you breathed out, popping your lips. “Peter 3, yeah? Good name. You go by that back home, too?”

He laughed, a suit-clad hand nervously rising to the back of his neck. “Uh–yeah, no, definitely not. Just plain ole’ Peter Parker over there.”

The nervous energy radiating from the boy almost seemed contagious as you started to pick at your nails. “Do you have a nickname?”

He blinked, looking as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “Sorry, what?”

“A nickname,” you repeated, only for your brows to then furrow. “You have those where you’re from, don’t you? Nicknames? Like, you know, something you go by other than your actual name?”

“Oh! Yes—sorry, yes we have nicknames in my world,” he exclaimed, his pale skin starting to flush.

“I just thought that this whole numerical system thing that Ned’s going with to keep track of who’s who seems a little dehumanizing, yeah?”

“For sure,” he agreed, sucking on his lip as he nodded along with you.

You gave him a second, waiting and waiting for an answer to your apparently long-forgotten question, before asking, “So… Do you have one?”

The slight blush that had tinged his skin instantly darkened, suddenly the same shade of crimson as his suit. His grip on the back of his neck tightened, too, his fingertips prodding into his own skin.

“Sorry-” he apologized for the millionth time, more nervous laughter spilling out alongside it, “I do! I mean, sort of, I think. I don’t know if it’s really a nickname, but back in my world you really just called me by my last name most of the time anyway, so–I don’t know—maybe that would work?”

The sheer quantity of word vomit spewing from his mouth was impressive and likely hard-to-follow for most, but you consider yourself a bit of an expert in the anxious ramblings of Peter Parker.

“In your world?” You echoed, instantly catching the subtle mention. “We know each other?”

Maybe it shouldn’t have been shocking to learn that there were other versions of you throughout the multiverse as well, and yet it was. You figured that it was plausible, of course, considering that two variations of Peter had just been thrown into your world, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right.

You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.

“Yeah,” the boy, Parker, answered, a bit clipped. “We do.”

“Interesting.” Your brows lifted, “Are we friends?”

Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.

“Yeah,” his voice was an octave higher than before, and if you knew him better, then you likely would’ve called him on the obvious tell. But you didn’t know him, and so you didn’t say anything when he decided to double-down on the lie, “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Well I guess that means that this is just as weird for you as it is for me, then.” You laughed, trying to add some humor to the situation.

Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”

The seconds felt like they stretched into minutes after that, silently racking your brain for something to say, hoping that he might say something—but, eventually, you settled on offering an escape from the situation instead.

“You’re probably exhausted from the whole multiversal travel thing, so if you want, I can just show you the guest room and give you some privacy or something,” you told him, vaguely gesturing towards the hallway.

Parker seemed to relax a bit at the prospect of being alone, loosing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Uhm–yeah, that’d be great, actually.”

He followed you down the short hall, his hand finally falling from his neck and his skin returning to its normal complexion as his nerves began to wane.

“This is it,” you told him, the hinges crying out as you shoved the door open. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere to sleep, at least.”

Wasn’t much felt like an understatement, though the room was typical for a New York apartment.

A tad bigger than your average shoebox, there was just enough space to fit a full-sized bed, a small armoire, and a single nightstand adorned with an old desk lamp and a little pink teddy bear—a gift from Peter, years ago.

Parker walked into the room, looking around and brushing his fingertips against the emerald quilt. It was a bit old and somewhat thin, but it was better than nothing you supposed, and Parker certainly didn’t seem like he was going to complain about it.

“It’s great,” he assured you, and even though he did sound genuine, you couldn’t help but snort. He looked over at where you still stood in the doorway, giving you a timid smile as he said, “Way better than sleeping on the streets.”

You returned the gesture, lazily lifting a shoulder. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning. That mattress is about a hundred years old, so it’s probably the equivalent of sleeping on really lumpy cement.”

Parker hummed his amusement, carefully perching on the edge of the bed, his smile seeming to deepen when he caught sight of the little bear on the nightstand.

“I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” you told him, reaching for the door handle, “if you need anything—extra blankets, or something—just let me know; my room’s right across the hall.”

He muttered his thanks, but as you went to pull the door closed, you heard your name fall from his lips. It was strange sounding, strangled and foreign, like he didn’t quite know how to say it. When you turned back to face him, a subtle wince seemed to etch across his face.

“Can I… Can I ask you something?” Parker stammered out the question, his voice faltering like a candle flame in the wind.

You nodded once, fingers still wrapped around the knob, savoring the coolness of the brass against the now-clotted wound on your palm.

He took a breath, his gaze momentarily flickering back to the teddy bear on the nightstand. His thoughts felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to force them out of his mouth, “Are you happy?”

You blinked at him, unsure of what to make of the hope that seemed to cling to each syllable and half-wondering if you’d heard him right.

“I-” you tried to start, only to realize that you had no clue what to say.

There was a fleeting moment where you realized that you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that happiness felt like a distant shore far from your reach, forever obscured by the fiery tempest of a brutal and ancient rage—a rage that, sometimes, didn’t even feel like your own.

But then he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes; eyes that should have been foreign to you, and yet felt so familiar—and you realized that he wouldn’t like that answer.

Sucking in a breath, you evaded his question as best you could. “Ask me again when all of this is over,” you told him, your lips curving into a soft, playful arc, “and maybe I’ll tell you the truth.”

This time when you went to close the door, he didn’t stop you.

series masterlist

a/n - i wish that i could properly express just how amazing (and terrifying) it has been to rewrite this story. first created at quite possibly the lowest point of my life, infinitely you has provided me with a necessary escape at a time when i desperately needed it. now that i'm in a better position, i found it necessary to give it the plot, writing style, and dedication that it deserved. i'm aware some people might not be interested in a rewrite and that's ok, but for those that are i just wanna say: thank you, thank you, thank you for giving infinitely you (and me) another shot. you're incredible.

if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! as of right now, chapters will be posted every other monday, though i may switch that to weekly soon!

part two, titled "crullers & constants", to be released april 1st

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thefiery-phoenix · 9 months

Text

MY SLEEPING BEAUTY (YANDERE PETER PARKER X READER)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 10 months

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How NoirPunk Meets - Hobie Brown x Noir!Peter Parker Headcanons

a/n: listen okay these two just hear me out- just listen i swear these two are perfect for each other on god i promise just trust me

also i be calling noir peter if thats okay i dont really see that much

—————————————————

So let's just be honest they're a large part of why the other sticks around in the society, and I wouldn't be surprised if -

Hobie was the one that finally got Noir!Peter to join

I really like the idea that Hobie was the thing that convinced him to join.

I mean, Peter has his own shit going on, he's not just fighting Goblin and the usual villains - he's actively trying to stop a fascist regime and thought system.

I could absolutely see the society approaching him multiple times, and Peter just declining. He's the brooding type to work alone, and (aside from learning about color), it wouldn't be surprised if he was just uncomfortable with this whole 'secret society of superhumans that controls the flow of history' thing...because, y'know

So as a last ditch effort, Miguel and Jess ask Lyla whose left and who's algorithmically their best bet at recruiting him

And Lyla is like '..You know who ;) '

Miguel is like 'Jesus Christ anyone but him' - because they barely send Hobie on missions for a reason!! He's a huge wildcard

and convincing Hobie to recruit someone else is a whole different story for another time

Hobie went to Peter's universe already planning to have him as an ally

It was only after they debriefed him on Spider-Noir and what he does that Hobie agreed

Even from his case file - which Hobie thinks it's creepy they have that but whatever - Hobie admired him and his activism

SO much of world theory and social understanding developed from the thirties onward, so already he'd feel a connection and understanding, being almost impressed by Noir

And despite what he lets on to Miguel, Hobie is smart and informed as fuck, and from his large knowledge of world history, so he already knew what he was getting into

But the first time he stepped into Noir's universe it was like turning the world on its head

It really shocked Hobie, which is pretty hard to do

It was like going from the world's loudest room to dead silence. It's a kind of serenity that kind of puts Hobie at ease. The rain, the darkness, the quiet, all that

Which is why Peter comes home one night to Hobie just chilling in his apartment like it's nothing

He's just laid out on the couch like 'Oh great, for a second I thought The Man was going to have you working all night.'

And like COME ONNNN could you imagine from Peter's POV

Working literally all night, tired as hell, coming home to the dark of his apartment with the rain outside, and he just finds Hobie, vibrant and pink on his couch, his color the only thing in the room

Usually Peter turned away all the others from the society, but he felt like Hobie might be different

So he let him stay, and offered to hear him out

But what's supposed to be a recruitment pitch turns into hours of Hobie and Peter at Peter's kitchen table, shooting the shit and talking about anything

Peter makes them some coffee as Hobie looks over Peter's book collection, smiling at the ones filled with Peter's notes and thoughts in the margins

Peter is almost taken a back, because Hobie is so bold and out there and worldly

He's surprised to meet someone actually interested in justice - real, actual justice - and equality. Someone whose ready to talk about it so openly and say 'hey fuck this amiright'

It's SO refreshing to Peter

He's impressed that Hobie has all of this vocabulary, describing complex ideals that were still being formed and whispered about in 1933.

In a universe full of rain and shadows and shades of grey, meeting Hobie is like falling into an oil painting for Peter. He's full of color and humor and ease and confidence - his humor is scathing and honest, and Hobie's the first one to make Peter laugh at a joke about anti-capitalism

The first night they meet they kinda just get lost in each other

And UHHHH yeah they keep going

Hobie comes back the first night and tells Miguel that he's 'still staking Noir out', not telling him they've actually met

And for the next four nights, Hobie came over to Noir's place, just to see him, and talk

Peter knows why Hobie's there, and Hobie isn't trying to hide it. In the beginning he tells Noir straight up that he's here for recruitment, that he thinks it's bullshit, and that eventually he's going to do something about it

But he asks Noir to join because, yeah, Hobie likes him a lot, and he wants to see him more. And he thinks he'd be one of the most valuable allies to have, ever.

Noir is literally his comrade.

And Noir agrees (, but he probably will have some terms and conditions to take up with Miguel later, like the kind of missions he will do, the amount of time he can and can't spend away from his dimension, etc)

But for the next four nights, they spend it just with each other, learning each other and trading ideas, drinking coffee in Peter's apartment and listening to vinyls

And they just make each other so soft

Sometimes, Hobie brings papers from his world to show Peter

The third time he visits, Hobie brings him a stack of zines - colorful little booklets full of collages and bold ink

On some nights, Hobie reads over Peter's first drafts at his kitchen table, watching Peter make coffee on the stove, the old-fashioned way

People at the Bugle start to notice that even if it's subtle, Peter seems more at ease and easygoing, and he has DOZENS of new, forward thinking ideas in his writing that he's excited about

Meanwhile Hobie's been in a great mood (which Miguel hates cause he's a hater like that)

He asks Hobie for a status report, and Hobie smuggly tells him that the missions accomplished

And Lyla is grinning her little ass off because OF COURSE she knew that algorithmically they're romantically compatible

(And YES Lyla sets up mission teams based on her own little matchmaker algorithm without Miguel's permission because she thinks its funny)

From then on Noir requests he either be assigned solo missions or missions with Hobie

And they go around HQ calling each other their 'partner' and neither refuses to elaborate any further

Mission partner? Dating partner? Partner-in-crime? ALL THREE.

__________

im obsessed with these geniuses. look at what they've done to me (and by they I mean myself I've done this to myself)

hi thxs for reading also this was not proofread so if you see a typo my adhd says no you didnt

#spiderman #marvel #marvel comics #spider noir #spidernoir #Peter parker #noir!peter parker #hobie brown #hobie brown x peter parker #punknoir #noirpunk #shipping #atsv #across the spiderverse

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unluckiestmember · 11 months

Note

Hey. Could do headcanons of Gwen Stacy x No Powers! Reader, please? Recently I remembered Gwen's story and especially the incident with her Peter Parker, so I felt curious to know what her relationship would be like with a Reader who admires Gwen's heroic figure, however, as well as her old Peter, they are powerless, without any notorious particularities and feel interested in becoming something more, someone special like Gwen. Y'know, an uncertainty of seemingly everything is repeating itself.

Coming right up!

Gwen Stacy X Powerless! Reader

Characters: Gwen Stacy/Spider-Woman

Tags: Can be read as platonic, can be read as romantic, oblivious!reader, supportive friend/girlfriend, confidence boosts, bullying and semi fluff.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: Yeeeeeaaaah, so I know you were probably looking for a dark outcome, but I feel we don't have enough fluff around these parks and I'm a sucker for that, so ya. Enjoy, I am so sorry!

For such a fan of Spider-Woman, Gwen was surprised you couldn’t connect the dots.

She loved how you were inspired by her heroic persona enough to try and make little changes around you.

Was especially proud when you even used that to stand up for others who couldn’t take care of themselves.

This did result in you getting bullied though.

But Gwen would always be there to pick you up and chew out your harassers.

She loves how you talk about Spider-Woman being an icon to live up to, trust me, she does!

But she wishes you saw how powerful you were.

All you could see was someone who was ordinary, maybe the lowest of the low.

But in her eyes? You were way more than that.

You were her best friend, just like Miles. Just like Peter…

She would voice it at random moments during lunch or when you are both hanging out at the arcade.

She would also remind you in your lowest moments, touching your cheek and proclaiming in a whisper how spectacular you are.

You would believe her. But it was so hard when you are so normal.

You weren’t like her, you couldn’t easily go up against rude people and take care of others successfully.

You weren’t like Spider-Woman, who made everything look so easy.

That’s why you went to work in the lab, creating serum after serum of liquids that could hopefully give you the powers you desired.

You wanted to be like Spider-Woman? This was the only way.

… Until it wasn’t.

One day, you were visited by Spider-Woman herself! In the flesh, speaking to you of all people!

She told you how amazing you are, even without powers. Even if you tried to argue against it, she would just shut you down with the best of claims;

“You stood up for a kid the other day at school, even if the bully was twice your size! You helped your best friend Gwen with her project! You were there for her when she was at her lowest and lifted her up!”

It was a bit odd that she knew everything you did for your best friend, but that didn’t cloud the adrenaline and serotonin you gained.

You two talked all night, forgetting about everything and for once in your life, you felt invincible.

After that night, you realized something; You were normal, but that was okay.

Being ordinary didn’t mean you were weak or helpless, especially when you still try your best for yourself and for others.

Powers don’t make the hero, you do.

You also realized something else; How the hell did it take you this long to realize your best friend was the Spider-Woman?!

Spider-Verse Requests are open!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day!

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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years

Text

In the Name of Good | Prt 1 -[P.P.]

Pairings: Dark!Yandere!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Prompt: "what are we going to do about this?" you're caught, red-handed, and peter's next move could destroy your life forever. unless… you can convince him otherwise

Summary: Peter is acting strange and curiosity kills the cat

word Count: 6k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+

Swearing, Somnophillia, Murder, Mentions of blood, Mentions of emesis, Animal Abuse/harm (Murder Triad stuff)

( Part 2 | Masterlist )

A/N: AHHHHHH! I'm so sorry I'm late I saw this like 30 minutes ago and whipped this up. Anyway, congrats to @liz-allyn and I'm honoured that you would wanna read anything I write. This is for you :))

Also, there is a literal murder scene in here so read at your own discretion. Perhaps I should cut back on the true crime after this. It's separated from the rest of the text and in italics so you can avoid it if you wish not to read

Peter Parker was the kindest man you knew. You grew up down the street from each other. Your parents moved into his neighbourhood when you were 7 years old. You sat in the front yard with a popsicle as the adults passed you by, carrying many heavy boxes. Across the street, you saw the curtains move. A mop of brown curls ducking as soon as you looked.

Peter had never really had friends before. Always been more of a loner. Aunt May had been preparing cookies all day and promised to take him over when “the new neighbours look more settled.” But he was impatient. He watched as you sat across the street, red popsicle dripping down your chin and fingers. He was fascinated by it. He liked the colour and the way it danced down your arm, enchanting.

You quickly became best friends, walking to school every day and playing at recess together. Peter didn’t treat you differently because you were a girl, he didn’t treat you like you were dainty. He would encourage you to jump off the swings with him. He would do nerf battles with you. He would rough house too.

Peter was your best friend and you loved him unconditionally. In middle school, you had your first crush: Noah Myers. Peter didn’t like him very much but you were head over heels for this boy. He called you pretty and drew you flowers that you would keep in your locker. He asked you to the spring dance and you were so excited to go. Peter and Aunt May took you dress shopping and it was so much fun, until he ditched you to dance with some other girl, an eighth grader no less. You could never compete with her.

That night you cried into Peter’s shoulder and he told you he would make him pay. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, and you never did. Noah showed up to school for a week and then disappeared. People said he moved others said he transferred schools but no one knew for sure.

By high school, many people thought that You and Peter were dating. Your relationship could be seen as co-dependent but you didn’t really care. He made you feel safe. There was hardly a secret between you two. He regularly spent the night at your place and his bed was always open to you. He was there for every milestone; you couldn’t imagine anyone else you would want to share those moments with.

That was until senior year. He started getting distant, he wouldn’t answer his phone for hours at a time and would never explain why. You thought maybe he had a girlfriend, but who? The thought alone made you feel like you were putting your heart through a vegetable spiralizer. It’s true that you weren't dating but you liked his attention. You had never thought of sharing it. Maybe that was selfish of you.

This went on for weeks and you were starting to get restless. What was he doing? What was he hiding? You stayed by your bedroom window on a Tuesday afternoon, watching his house. What you didn’t realise was that Peter was watching you too. He always did. He would watch you through his camera lens from the comfort of his bed. You knew he took pictures of you, you had seen them tacked up on his wall. He explained they were candids and you thought nothing more of it. His sweet, gullible, little lamb.

You didn’t see the stash he had in a book under his bed. He had cut out the pages to make room for your beauty. You had never thought to be reserved around Peter, sometimes changing in front of him. It was a cruel tease that you thought so little of him. He would watch you after school, as you studied, cleaned your room, and did your little workout that drove him crazy.

But today was different. Today you were looking right at him. You didn’t realise this of course, but you were. Why were you watching him, or trying to at least? Had he raised your suspicion? Had you been following the news? He knows Aunt May has warned him about going out at night. He wonders if someone had given you the same talk.

Hello, little lamb, he thought, What is it you want to know? He had to play his cards right. He could make himself visible, see what you might do. He could stay hidden and enjoy knowing you were looking for him. He could call you, pretend to be busy, see if you falter. So many options, so many choices.

Peter liked having choices. He likes making choices for others. That’s something he relished in you. You were so obedient, so willing to act on his will. It might be the only reason he hadn’t been caught. Knowing that it might come back to you made him careful. He had to protect you, keep you safe from the dangers of this world.

Like the dog on Kalamasis Street that tried to bite you. That stupid mutt scared you, snarling and barking at you. It had threatened you and he couldn’t stand for that. He felt joy in the missing fliers hung around the block. He pointed one out to you, just to see what you would say. He swelled with pride when you declared “Serves it right. I just hope it doesn’t come back to finish what it started.”

Peter couldn’t tell you that he knew it wouldn’t. Not yet. He had to make sure you were ready. He had to know that you would accept him and all his flaws. He had to know you would stand by him. He couldn’t lose you, neither of you would survive it.

You were patient, he’ll give you that. Three hours passed with you sitting at your window sill before you called him. He watched as you fumbled with the device in your hands, mulling it over. A choice. You chose to call him.

“Hey Petey, you home?” You sounded chipper but you didn’t know he could see the worry on your face. The way you picked at your nailbed nervous about his answer.

“My car’s out front right?” he chuckled, delighting in your desire to see him.

“Can I come over?” he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. You were so cute.

“Of course, little lamb, you’re always welcome over.” You smiled and he took a picture. You were so perfect, the way you were leaning over the window sill, your breasts pushed out in that thin tank top you had on.

He watched as you made your way across the street, backpack in hand. You had made another choice: to spend the night. Peter was conflicted with himself. He wanted to go out tonight, but having you in his bed would make it difficult. Not because you would catch him, you never did, but it might distract him.

You loved spending the night at Peter’s. It was the best rest you ever had. Maybe it was because his home was homier than yours. His came with an Aunt May, homemade dinners, and a bigger bed. It didn’t matter how much you complained, your parents refused to get you anything bigger than a twin. You think it’s because they’re not as on board with Pete spending the night but you don’t care. You just share your twin and your parents will either have to get you a bigger bed or sleep knowing you and Peter have to snuggle to fit.

Pete meets you at the door and basks in the smile that spreads across your face. You make your way to the dining room table where you begin to work on your homework. Peter joins you and you enjoy the quiet, it feels nice just to be with him. You suddenly feel stupid for getting so jealous over a girl who probably didn’t exist.

You didn’t notice Peter watching your every move as if trying to memorise the choreography of your mundane mannerisms. The way you twirled everything that entered your hand, a pen, a pencil, a straw. The way you would let out three quick puffs of air when you got stumped on something. The way you crossed and uncrossed your legs in thought.

Being “normal” around you was hard, even though his normal around you was already odd. He decided to take advantage of his time with you, hoping perhaps he can satiate himself with you and not need to go out tonight. He let out a dramatic puff of air, catching your attention.

“I can’t focus.” You leaned on your hand pouting.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You were always so willing to serve.

“Can you sit on my lap? You’re too far and it’s distracting.” You got up without a second thought. Physical closeness with Peter was something you were so used to. Whether it be holding hands, cuddling, or sitting on his lap, that was just expected.

You sat on his thigh and it took everything in him not to grab your hips and slowly start grinding you against him. He wondered what you would sound like, what sweet noises and pleas you would make for him. He wondered if you had ever done something like that. He imagines you grinding against a stuffed animal he had given you. What would Mr Whiskers say if he could talk?

You were so oblivious to him and it both excited and angered him. It excited him because he knew he could get away with quite a bit. But it angered him because he wanted you to be his, all his and no one else's. He remembered the guy from your econ class then.

You had worn a skirt Peter had bought you to school today. You loved anything Peter picked out for you and wore it with pride. It was definitely too short for dress code but you were such a sweetheart no one dared scold you. That guy didn’t care how sweet you were.

Peter watched as he trailed behind you in the halls, just staring at your ass, making obscene gestures that his lackeys would laugh at. He had to pay. He couldn’t get away with that. Ogling at what wasn’t his. You none the wiser, too sweet and kind to know what he meant. Peter had to protect you, his little lamb.

It was nine o’clock, time for bed. Peter preferred to stay up but he could never say no to you. You dressed in your pyjamas and Peter watched, he watched as you pulled your shirt off exposing your perfect back to him. He wanted to kiss and lick up your spine, have you mewling, begging for more. You unhooked your bra and for a moment he was jealous of the Smith’s poster on the wall that got to see them. It’s not that Peter hasn’t seen them, it’s just always been through a viewfinder, two planes of glass and a street away.

He always slept in his boxers and you never thought anything of it. It never occurred to you that maybe that was too intimate between friends. He was in his home and could sleep as he wished. You got in bed as Peter went to get you some water. He always did this. Made sure you had plenty to eat and drink. Every time you spent the night he gave you a glass of water and made you drink it all, he was just so kind.

While fixing your drink he tried to focus on you. He tried to convince himself that a night with you was better than a night out, but all he could think about was that fucking guy. He had gone through the yearbook and found him. Blake Walsh was the son of Debera and John Walsh. John owned a landscaping company and after a little digging, he found their address. He couldn’t not go out tonight. Not after what he did to you.

He stirred your glass, making sure the sleep aid fully dissolved. After inspecting it closely he was pleased with his work. You smiled at him as you accepted the water, downing it in seconds before rolling over and patting the place next to you. Peter wasted no time climbing in after you. It wasn’t long before sleep overtook you. Peter waited patiently for your light snores before moving. He had a busy night ahead of him.

First, he petted your face, moving the hair out of the way. You didn’t even flinch. He had been worried he hadn’t used enough melatonin, you were starting to build a tolerance over the years so he had to give you more, always careful to not use too much. He didn’t want you to be suspicious. He ripped the blankets off of you and rolled you onto your back.

He took in your sleeping form, nipples peaked through your thin shirt due to the sudden coldness, your exposed hip from where it rode up, your shorts bunched. He wanted to ravish you. He checked the clock, 10:30. He had to finish his night by three. It would take him at least two hours to take care of Blake, but he always underestimated.

He had thirty minutes to enjoy you. He began by slowly pulling down your shorts, listening carefully for any disturbance from you. Once your shorts were off he buried his head between your thighs. He thanked whatever deity was out there for giving him this gift of heightened sent. God, you smelled so good he could almost taste you. He couldn’t help himself, he laid his tongue flat against your core through your cotton panties. He relished in the little squirm you made.

He allowed himself a few more licks before he couldn’t stand it any longer. He was rutting against the bed, his hard-on leaking precum onto the sheets. He pulled his boxers off and sat back at the head of the bed. He slowly lifted your hand, kissing your knuckles before spitting into your palm. He listened carefully, monitoring your heart rate and breathing pattern as he went. He slowly wrapped your fingers around his member, it twitched in your hand.

He started stroking himself with it, your skin was so soft. He bit his lip as he sped up your movements. He stared at your innocent face, he wondered what you would look like falling apart from his hands. Maybe one day he’d know. It wasn’t long before he was cumming, heightened senses making him sensitive. He carefully licked your hand clean before going to the bathroom to clean himself up.

He got dressed and went to his closet. He had made a lock for it, much similar to his bedroom door, but this one was a combination lock. Aunt May was never in his room much and if she asked he had a collection of porno mags he would pull out and pretend to be ashamed of. He was sure she would let it go after that.

He grabbed his go bag and headed out the window. He had gotten into a routine of sorts for his adventures. First, he put his car in neutral and pushed it down the street to the stop sign. Anyone who saw him would just think he was a teenager sneaking out, nothing more. With his newfound strength, it was quite easy to do. Secondly, he would arrive a mile from the location. His endurance was much better now and running was easy, as was scaling houses. This brings us to three, find a point of entry/distraction.

When he first started he was more of the blitz attacker. Finding someone on a night run and ending it there, no planning, no flair, just a rush. But now he was getting good at this. He surveyed the house for a bit, it was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be any security measures. He could work with that. He saw a light on in one of the rooms, upon closer inspection he realised it was Blake’s. He was up on his phone, not seemingly doing much.

He found a doggie door in the backdoor and hopped around in silent glee. If he could pull this off he could get two kills tonight.

__________

He shimmied through and began listening for bodies. He heard something on the ground floor with him. He crept around the kitchen and opened a small door. It was a laundry room and there in the corner was his prize.

A beautiful golden retriever, none the wiser to his presence. He knelt beside it and it started to stir. He quickly clamped his hand around its mouth squeezing enough for it to yelp. He snapped his neck, taking its collar in his pocket. He lifted the dog over his shoulder and made his way under Blake’s window. He threw a couple of stones at the window and it wasn’t long until Blake opened it.

He was surprised to see Peter, even more, surprised to see him holding PopTart over his shoulder.

“Parker, what the hell are you doing here?” He whispered loudly.

“Hey, is this your dog? I don’t think she’s doing too well.” Peter bit back a smile. It was almost too easy. He watched as Blake began to panic before rushing away from the window.

Peter heard him open the front door and dropped the dog before scaling the side of the house to get a better view. Blake looked around briefly for Peter before falling to his knees in front of his dog. Peter watched as Blake began to shake her more and more before crying out.

“You know,” Blake’s head shot up at hearing Peter’s voice looking around before finally seeing him clinging to the side of his house. “You should really lock your doggy door.”

Blake said nothing as his brain continued to process. Peter lept off as he balled his fists together, knocking blake on the head. He picked them both up, one on each shoulder, “Really, any old creep could get in.”

__________

Peter returned to you at two am exhausted but very happy. When you woke up the next morning in his arms you were none the wiser about his escapades. Aunt May made you breakfast before you carpooled to school. You teased Peter for being such a morning person when you still felt groggy. Peter only chuckled, offering you some of his coffee and you took an appreciative sip.

You had a great day and Peter did too. He seemed extra affectionate, hugging you from behind, kissing you on the cheek. You appreciated it after feeling neglected for a month. You couldn’t remember the last time Peter seemed so happy.

That didn’t last when you walked in together on school Thursday. Peter immediately took notice of the extra cops in the school. He walked you to your locker and stared them down over your shoulder. They didn’t seem to suspect him. Why would they, they couldn’t know, right?

In English, he noticed a mob around Gwen Stacy. He took his seat listening in, “Yeah, my dad said Blake is missing. They think he might have run away or something. His window was open and his dog is missing too.”

He heard someone ask if she thought he was murdered, “My dad won’t tell me anything else but I’m sure he’s fine.”

Peter knew he wasn’t, Peter knew where he was. He was gone, unable to hurt you again.

That night at dinner May seemed on edge. “(Y/n), I know your parents are out of town but I would prefer it if you spent the night here.”

You looked at her confused and Peter shared your expression. “Mrs Parker, you know I’m never one to turn down an invitation. Are you worried about me being alone?”

May took a sip of water, and Peter recognised this look. She was worried but didn’t want to worry anyone else. Always the protector, never the protected. “I know it’s probably nothing but with those murders in the park and that kid missing…it has me worried. I don’t want you in that house alone. If anything happened to you-”

“Nothing would ever happen to her.” Peter hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t meant to snap like that. He felt anger rise in his gut at the insinuation, that May thought he would ever hurt you. Of course, she didn’t know that she had implied that, but he did and it angered him.

He melted a little when you rested your hand on his. He looked into your sad eyes and let himself be swaddled in your tone. “I know you would never let anything happen to me, okay Pete? I’m not going anywhere.”

You were so sweet and kind. To you, his outburst was out of fear. The fear of losing anyone else. You had held him as he cried over Uncle Ben, listening to his last voicemail on repeat. You had consoled him as a child when someone told him his parents hadn’t died they just didn’t love him enough to stay. You had been there for him, and he was determined to do the same.

That week you stayed at the Parker’s. You opted to just change at home as it was just across the street, instead of trying to pack all those clothes. Peter always accompanied you. He took the time to pick out your outfits and raid your panty drawer. He was a sick fuck and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.

By the following Friday, Peter was getting restless. Spending every night with you was nice but he needed to get out again. His brain was foggy and he couldn’t focus on anything, even you weren’t helping.

That night when braiding your hair Peter grew curious. He wanted to tell you but he couldn’t, not yet. “So what do you think happened to that Blake kid?”

You were quiet for a minute and Peter worried you might not have heard him. “I think I chase boys away.”

That definitely wasn’t the response he was expecting, “What?”

He tied off the end of your braid and turned you around in his lap so you were facing him. You rested your hands on the back of his neck, head turned unable to look at him.

“It’s like, any guy that might like me just…disappears.” Peter raised his eyebrows, shocked you could even piece that together. You hadn’t said anything before.

“What do you mean?” Peter knew exactly what you meant but needed to know how much you knew.

“Well first it was Noah, he left me at the dance and then left forever. There was Micheal who flirted with me for a bit and then three days before our date just vanished. And now Blake, he just complimented my skirt. I’m not even sure he was into me but it was enough and now he…he ran away.” Peter could hear your voice breaking and moved to grab your chin. You didn’t fight as he raised it, levelling your gaze.

“Hey, it’s their fucking loss, okay? You are the most amazing person I know, anyone would be lucky to have you.” You sniffled and he continued. “Besides, none of those guys are worth a shit. No one is compared to you, little lamb.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek before tucking you in and curling into your side. It wasn’t long before you were asleep and Peter snuck out to go to the park.

You woke up in the middle of the night. You felt cold. You realised then that Peter wasn’t in bed with you. You went downstairs to get a glass of water. Maybe Peter was right to give you water before bed, he didn’t tonight and now you couldn’t sleep.

You called out softly for him, but he didn’t answer. Was he not home? You checked the clock on the stove: 1:45. He shouldn’t be out. You made your way to the living room window and were surprised to see his car wasn’t there.

You were worried making your back upstairs. You climbed back into bed, tossing and turning unable to sleep. That’s when you noticed his closet was open. It was never opened. You stared at the small crack in the door, it called your name like a siren’s song. You told yourself you were only going to grab a hoodie, you were cold. You weren’t going to snoop.

You wish you never had. You wish you could go back to before you knew. When you first opened it you saw chalk on the wall. A bunch of tally marks. You thought it was odd. Then you noticed there were no clothes in here. The shelves were lined with odd trinkets, rings, a shoelace. You noticed a ziplock baggie with hair, a date hastily scribbled on, and you began to get nauseous. You noticed a dog collar, the tag glinting in the moonlight. You flipped it over and your heart fell to the floor.

It was from the dog down the street. You remembered seeing the same name and collar on the missing sign. The address lined up too. You began digging and you found more collars, more jewellery, even keys.

You found a bloody baseball card in the same bag as a dog collar. You turned it over, PopTart Walsh. Your hands shook as you realised what you were looking at. His trophies. There were so many, this had to be going on for years. You turned to the chalkboard and began counting the tallies.

“900” You gasped dropping the collar with a loud clatter. You hadn’t heard him come in.

“Well, it is now. Technically, there are 899 tallies there, but after tonight,” he held up a pair of headphones already bagged and dated, “It’s 900.”

You took slow steps back and he matched each one, hands turned out. Your back met the wall and you squeaked as you realised you had backed yourself into the closet.

“Woah there, little lamb, be careful. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” His smile looked sickening in the moonlight. You had never felt fear like this before. You had started crying, cheeks feeling itchy as each tear dried.

“Aw, you poor thing. Why don’t you come on out of there and we can go to bed.” His tone was the same as always, gentle and soothing. You didn’t like it anymore, it seemed false now. Now that you knew he was anything but gentle. But what could you do?

You took slow steps forward feeling your heart drop with every pace towards his open arms. He held you tightly, pinning your arms to your sides, as he nuzzled your neck with his nose. You felt sick, you hated that his touch still made feel special. After everything you’d seen, after everything you know, you still find yourself melting into his embrace.

Peter feels your heartbeat start to steady and pulls away slightly. He cradles your face, your hair stuck between his palms and your cheeks. He tuts as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, “Why aren’t you in bed, little one?”

Your breathing was still quick but you tried your best to answer. “I- I was cold. You were gone. I got- I got scared.”

You felt your eyes start to water again and Peter fixed you with a soft smile. One that would usually make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Little lamb, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

He observed you for a while, trying to decide his next move. You knew now. The cat’s out of the bag and one of this size certainly can’t be swept under the rug. This was going to change everything.

“You have a choice,” His tone was low and silky. You shuddered as his breath ran over the bridge of your nose. “You can try and run, but I assure you, you won’t get very far.”

Your stomach dropped at his words as if the gravity of the situation finally hit you. You were in danger. You were in danger because your best friend was a serial killer and would kill you to not get caught. Peter had never threatened you before. Not even jokingly.

“Or, you can be a good little girl and wait for me.” Your blood ran cold at the nickname. It wasn’t one he used often. You could count on one hand the amount of times he had used it in the 10 years you’ve known him.

You nodded your head and he tutted again, “Words, darling.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, “I’ll be good.”

Peter seemed satisfied by your answer and rewarded you with a kiss on the forehead. You sat on his bed as you heard the water start to run. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the closet door. The more you looked into the inky blackness the more it seemed to pull you in. Your head hurt. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Wild thoughts began to race through your mind.

How long had this been going on?

Were you dying right now?

Had he poisoned you?

Was he going to kill you anyway?

Had he really killed 900 people?

Before you realised what you were doing you felt the morning dew on your bare feet. The sensation shocked you back into your body. You left. You weren’t a good girl, you had left. And now Peter was going to punish you, probably in a deadly capacity. You considered turning back, but the thought of looking in that closet again almost made you hurl on the Parker’s front lawn.

You made your way across the street and went up to your room. You didn’t bother locking the door. If Peter wanted to get to you, you doubted a locked door would stop him. You raced up the stairs and into your ensuite bathroom.

You felt like a wreck, Your head pounding as your stomach expelled everything it could. You rinsed your mouth out and began brushing your teeth, wanting to rid your mouth of the bitter taste of bile. After rinsing your face you turned back to your room. You climbed into bed facing the window, you didn’t see any movement yet. Everything seemed still at the Parker house. For a moment you thought you might have dreamed it. Just a moment though.

“You ran away.” His voice was stone, sending shivers down your spine.

You curled into yourself as if that would somehow save you, “No, I didn’t”

You heard his footfall on the carpet, he was right behind you now, “Arguing isn’t going to help you, little lamb.”

You felt his hand grip your shoulder. It hurt as he ripped at it, pulling you to face him. The shadows of the room painted him in an eerie light. His hood was pulled over his face, only his mouth illuminated by the velvety glow of the street lights.

“I couldn’t-” You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling breathless again. “I couldn’t stay in there. I felt like the darkness was going to swallow me up.”

Peter’s demeanour changed, it was like your words flicked a switch. His countenance changed to one of pity. You weren’t sure you liked it. He sat by your legs before bending over and picking you up. It felt unnatural, the strength he had, the way he lifted you like it was nothing.

He tucked you into his chest, stroking your hair. “Poor thing, I’m so sorry you had to see that. I know you weren’t ready.” You stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he left a quick peck on your scalp, “ask away.”

You thought for a moment before opening your mouth, “Have you really killed 900 people?”

He chuckled, the rumbling shaking your body, “No, that’s just how many things I’ve killed. I started the tally not long before you came along. It’s mostly bugs and animals. I’ve only killed 9 people.”

You almost laughed at the absurdity, only 9. As if ending a human life wasn’t such a big deal. It wasn’t much only 9. You asked the only question you could think of next. The one you were burning to know since you first realised. The one you feared the most. “Why?”

Peter was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking through his answer. “Many reasons. I like it, for starters. It feels good. Most of them deserved it, well that’s not true I suppose. Those Joggers didn’t do anything wrong but Noah and Michael and Blake,” he said the last name with so much venom you winced.

“They deserved it.” He was quiet for a minute and you thought maybe he was done. You shifted to look at his face. You had begun to hate yourself in this exchange. You shouldn’t enjoy sitting in his lap like this. You shouldn’t think he’s pretty. You shouldn’t fantasize about his pulling you close into an earth-shattering kiss. But you were and you hated yourself for that.

He moved a fallen strand of hair from your face before resting his hand there, “I didn’t mean to kill Noah. I really didn’t. But I can’t say that I’m sorry for it either.”

“You seem pretty sure of your actions. I wouldn’t expect you to be.” He chuckled again at your words. You hated yourself for the pride blooming in your chest at making him laugh.

His face fell again as he sighed, “When Uncle Ben died I was devastated. He was killed…all because he couldn’t mind his own business. As I watched my uncle bleed out I was horrified but also…excited? That’s not the right word. I watched as the blood left his body and I felt, I dunno, alive. It was like his life was being poured into mine, and it was beautiful.”

Your brows knitted together as he spoke, it was terrifying to hear him talk like that. “I was given powers and I knew what I had to do. I had to avenge him. That’s why his life force was given to me, so I could kill the fucker that got him.”

You nodded your head slowly, that was really the only thing Peter had said that made sense. His righteous anger was justified. “Did you? Did you kill him I mean?”

Peter’s smile stretched, pulling out the dimples in his face, “Yes, I did.”

You mulled his words over, growing confused again, “You said you got powers? What kind of powers? Why- Why do this?”

Peter threw his head back as a laugh ripped through his chest. You braced your hands on his biceps in fear. “Oh, little lamb, I have been chosen by the universe, given the strength of a god, given the power of a god. This is what I was meant to do.”

You shook your head, not wanting to accept that Peter was made for such horrors. “Why not use your powers for good?”

He tilted his head like a puppy, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a pout. You thought for a moment that you had gotten to him, that maybe you had turned him to the light. “I’m using them to protect you. What better good is there?”

You shook your head burying it in his chest. He was doing this for you. It was your fault Blake was dead. It was your fault those joggers in the park would never go home to their families. It was all your fault. You began sobbing gripping his jacket in your shaky palms. Peter shooshed you, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” He pulled back the blankets and let you sink into the mattress. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed in behind you, holding you close to his chest. “Sleep now, it’ll all be fine in the morning.”

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