#dark!peter parker smut
Text
Late Bloomer
This fic contains DUB CON & NON CON/R@PE. DO NOT READ IF THIS UPSETS YOU. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.
Summary: When your best friend Peter finds out that you have no sexual experience whatsoever, he decides to help you out and show you what you're missing - whether you want him to or not.
The (dub/non con!) smut is a handjob, oral (reader receiving) and penetration. very naive and innocent and inexperienced reader who doesn’t want to have sex (both generally and in this moment) / asexual reader? Also includes manipulation, gaslighting, victim blaming and bad/wrong ideas about society + sex, drinking, Peter doesn’t redeem himself/no happy end, childhood best friends to…this?, mention of drugs, please let me know if I forgot anything!
words: 5k
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It took Peter a lot of convincing to make you go to this party with him.
It’s not your thing; you don’t drink, you’re not interested in flirting with someone you’ll never see again and you’re too shy to dance and let loose.
But Peter managed to persuade you by telling you how you’re missing out. He always tells you how great the parties he’s been to are and you know that you should be spending your twenties partying and having fun.
This party though, just like you thought, is not fun.
The people are playing a round of spin the bottle, and the person it lands on gets a lap dance from the person spinning the bottle. You were able to walk away before it started, but Peter is still sitting with everyone, seemingly even enjoying this stupid game while you’re watching from the side.
A girl spins the bottle, everyone waiting to see who it lands on.
It slows down and eventually points right at Peter. Your heart starts beating faster on his behalf. You hope he knows he doesn’t have to do this if he’s not comfortable. But, to your surprise, Peter starts smiling. It’s not an awkward smile either; he’s genuinely excited for it.
You cringe as the girl shrugs and walks Peter to the couch where he sits down. Your eyes meet Peter’s for a split second and in them there’s a look you’ve never seen before.
Peter is horny, his demeanor cocky. He focuses back on the girl in front of him.
Does she know she doesn’t have to do it? She’s giggling in embarrassment and holding her hands in front of her face as she bends her knees and starts dancing for Peter.
He slides down the seat so he’s closer to her, manspreading so she can stand between his legs. You ignore the jealousy bubbling up inside you, it’s easy to do though, because you don’t want to dance for Peter like that; but it’s not great to see him enjoying another woman like that either.
He puts his hands behind his head like some fuckboy, eyes not leaving the girl’s ass that’s nearly grinding on his lap. He’s looking at her with so much sexual admiration that you feel sick, you never wanted to see your best friend’s sex face.
Yes, you like him romantically, but not like that.
God, what are you even doing here?
Embarrassed for your best friend you walk away to find the kitchen, wondering how Peter is okay with everyone seeing him in such a primitive state of lust.
You look for a drink and check the time - you want to go home but you’ve barely been here fifteen minutes, and Peter drove you.
He finds you a few minutes later, flushed, and you don’t even really want to look at him.
“Hey. I was wondering where you went,” he says, not acknowledging how this isn’t a normal party or a normal situation.
I just didn’t feel like watching you and this woman have… sex,” you mumble, the word not feeling right coming from you, “in front of everyone.”
He huffs a laugh, “It was just a lap dance. Not even a proper one. ‘S just a game.”
You’re turned away from him, filling juice into your cup when you hear the metal of his belt clinking and you spin around. He’s adjusting the big bulge in his pants that steals your breath for a moment, “Peter! What are you doing?”
“Sorry, just quickly had to adjust myself. Look I’m done already.”
“I didn’t know you like that girl,” you turn around again, not wanting to look at this disgusting man you call your best friend, “I didn’t even know you knew her.”
“I never said I liked her.”
“Yeah but you..” you vaguely nod towards his jeans.
He shrugs, leaning on a kitchen counter, “A cute woman gave me a lapdance, only a guy who doesn’t like women wouldn’t get hard from that.”
You don’t say anything more, staring into the opened fridge as a distraction from your sudden changed perception of Peter. Still, you’re kind of glad he doesn’t like her. You still like him, even if he’s more debauched than you ever thought.
“Can you pass me a beer?”
“I was actually wondering if we could go soon? I don’t really like it here,” you look at him again, hoping to convince him with your sad look.
“Aw but the party’s just getting started.”
You both stare at each for a few seconds, it’s his enjoyment versus your discomfort.
“How about we leave in an hour? And I’ll stop drinking in thirty minutes so I’ll be sober by the time we leave.”
It’s a fair deal considering he was probably planning to stay much longer. His consideration for you puts a smile on your face momentarily, “Okay, that’s fine.”
You pass him his beer and he gets close to you when he takes it from you, making your face scrunch up, “Ew, get off me with those dirty hands,” you hurry to the opposite side of the counter.
He chuckles, “Don’t worry, I showered before we left. My dick is clean.”
You tsk, looking away, “I don’t want to hear about your… penis.”
You leave the kitchen, hoping to find someone else who understands how ridiculous these ‘party games’ are. But the only thing you find is two people making out in a bedroom or people taking drugs, so you end up alone on the porch, waiting for Peter and watching TikToks in the meantime.
You’re having a much better time being on your phone, and you remember why you usually prefer to stay in.
By now, Peter should be ready to leave in half an hour or so, and you still have enough mobile data for that time.
You flinch when the door behind you opens suddenly and Peter calls your name, “There you are. I was looking for you everywhere, I got worried.” You’re flattered at his protectiveness over you. You know exactly why you like him despite his flaws that you recently discovered.
“Sorry. I just didn’t wanna be in there anymore.”
“That bad? Okay listen, I’ll say bye to the guys and we’ll go home okay?”
“No, but you’ve been drinking.” From what he’s told you, he needs at least half an hour to sober up even with his enhanced physique.
“Not that much. I promise I wouldn’t offer to drive if I didn’t feel safe doing so,” he smiles down at you. He looks so pretty in the dim light.
“Okay. And you really don’t mind?”
He gives you a soft smile as he reaches out to help you up, “I’d rather never go to a party again than have you sitting on this dirty porch alone.”
You beam and tell him to say bye to everyone. He kisses your cheek, accidentally kissing you closer to your lips than he meant to and your cheeks heat up - but he’s unaffected.
It’s moments like this that make you question whether Peter likes you back or not. It would be a lie to say that you’re not attracted to him.
He’s cute. He’s caring. He’s smart. He treats you like a princess.
And you like when he takes care of you. You could easily get a driver’s licence but you don’t mind having Peter drive you everywhere, and he’s told you that he likes being your chauffeur too. He likes spending time with you and that includes driving you around places that you need to go to.
He’s the perfect boyfriend really. You’ve known him for years and trust him more than anyone.
But then you think back to earlier at the party. How he enjoyed being grinded on. In front of all people, too. And you can’t get his perverted smile out of your head. That’s why you could never be with him. You’re sure of it, especially after today. But that doesn’t stop you from wanting to be with him.
But that’s the main problem: sex.
Sex has never been appealing to you. You feel gross even thinking about it. Watching that girl grind her ass on Peter was an image you never needed to see so doing something like that yourself sounds horrifying.
But if even Peter wants to have sex, then you guess every other guy on earth does too, so you’d still be best off with Peter.
It leaves a sour taste in your mouth that apparently you’ll have to have sex with him if you do ever get together though.
He doesn’t leave you waiting for long, saying goodbye quickly and walking you to his car, a hand on your lower back. Your skin tingles where he’s touching it and you can’t hide your smile.
He opens the passenger door for you like the gentleman he is and you wait with putting on your seatbelt. You turn your whole body towards him once he sits down in the other side, shutting his door.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Always,” he replies.
“When did you..” you trail off as you think of a way to phrase your question without having to say that three letter word. You sigh when you realize it’s easiest if you say it.
“When did you go from being grossed out by sex..” you make a face when you say it - it’s the second time today that you’re using the word. Who are you turning into? “When did you go from being grossed out by it to liking it?”
He raises his eyebrows as if the question is laughable but he answers anyway, “When we hit puberty, I guess.”
“I remember we used to be so disgusted when there was a .. scene like that in a film. And I went through puberty too, my body and hormones changed, but I never got any interest for.. you know.”
He smiles sympathetically, “Don’t worry. Maybe you’re just a late bloomer.”
He’s said this to you plenty of times though, and you wonder how late late is. If you don’t have the desire to have sex by now then why would it suddenly change?
You give him a small smile, feeling like there’s something wrong with you.
He starts driving and lets you choose the music. It’s a welcome distraction.
“Nearly there,” he tells you and you realize you fell asleep for most of the drive. You try to wake yourself up again and look around in the car as you stretch.
Your movement stops when your eyes fall on the bulge in Peter’s trousers.
Is it still there or is it back again?
And is he that big or is it just the angle?
You want to tear your gaze away, but this is new for you. It looks so vulgar that you just can’t look away, your voice caught in your throat.
You can’t tell if he notices you staring or not.
You’re finally snapped out of it when he turns off the engine, parked in front of his apartment building. You’re too shocked by what you just saw - what you’re seeing for the second time today - to ask why he didn’t drive you to your place.
Undoing the seatbelt, you reach for the car door but Peter locks it. You giggle, thinking he’s messing with you as a joke, but when your eyes meet, his are serious.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
You gulp, already knowing what topic you’re going to have to talk about again now.
“Have you had sex?” He asks.
You shake your head, feeling heat on your face. You can’t look at him, “You know that. I would have told you if I had.”
“I don’t know, you went on a few dates here and there.”
“Yeah and I always told you how bad they were,” you meet his gaze this time, wondering if he thought you lied to him.
“I assumed they couldn’t keep their hands off a pretty girl like you and you were too prim and proper to admit that you did something. The innocent seeming ones are always the freakiest.”
You can’t argue with that at first. Peter seemed innocent to you for the first ten or so years you’ve known him, and you just found out today that he apparently likes dry humping in public - that’s essentially what that lapdance earlier looked like.
“Not me,” you say weakly.
He pauses, looking like he’s about to accept the truth, “Never?”
“Never,” you confirm.
“Do you wonder what it’s like?”
“I do wonder, sure. But I don’t wonder enough to actually want to do it.”
Peter smirks, crossing his arms, “I think that’s a lie.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t know, just a feeling.”
He leans back in his seat as you tap your foot against the floor, waiting for him to end this conversation and unlock the car. You count every one of his breaths, growing more impatient with every one of them, your palms starting to get sweaty. This is Peter, you remind yourself, you don’t know why you’re starting to get scared. Maybe it’s just the uncomfortable topic.
“You wanna try now?”
“Try what?” You splutter.
“I don’t know. We can start small. So you’ve never even touched a dick?”
A shiver runs down your spine. “Stop using that word.”
“What, you want me to stay cock?”
You cringe, inching closer to the door, “Don’t say it at all.”
“So do you wanna?”
You take a deep breath, hoping to calm down the sick feeling in your stomach. You shake your head.
“I think you’ll like it.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“It’s normal that you’re a little grossed out at first. Girls always think they don’t want it when they really do.”
Your jaw drops slightly, “Girls have said that to you?
“No, not to me specifically but it’s just a known fact.”
“Well I’m not like that..”
“Come on.” It’s the first thing he says that doesn’t have at least a bit of humor in his voice. You don’t want him to be mad at you. Not generally, but especially not while he’s got you alone in his car at night.
“I’m so hard, you can’t just leave me hanging like this. I drive you everywhere, leave a nice party early for you. And I’m not even doing it for me, I think you’ll like it. So just try it, okay? It’s just your hand. And if you don’t like it you can stop.”
Your chest tightens but you fear that he might be right. You don’t want to make such a big thing out of nothing. If the woman from earlier can twerk on a stranger in front of a whole party crowd, you can’t touch the… dick of your best friend for a few seconds.
You know it’s stupid, but you’ve always been insecure about how inexperienced you are, and at this age you should probably doing stuff like this regularly.
You don’t say anything, simply leaning over to him a little as you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.
“There we go,” he smirks.
Somehow you find the courage to look into his eyes. They look different, like he’s taken drugs or something, but they’re still the same eyes that you’ve looked into a million times before.
You trust Peter.
You’ve trusted him for the better part of a decade and you’re not suddenly going to stop. He only wants what’s best for you, and sometimes you have to do something out of your comfort zone to gain experience.
You take a deep breath as he undoes his belt and unzips his jeans, pulling out his hard dick. Your heart beating in your chest is the only thing you can hear for a bit.
It’s so vulgar. But somehow you imagined it to look uglier – which doesn’t mean that you like how it looks though.
Peter takes your hand and pulls you toward it. The skin is soft, but his erection feels harder than you would have imagined.
He squeezes his hand around yours and guides you up and down himself a few times. You’re tensing more with each second and you have to force yourself to stop clenching your teeth.
He releases your hand after a few moments and you let out the biggest breath of relief. That wasn’t so bad after all.
You watch Peter as he takes your hand again and brings it to his mouth, spitting into your palm. You mouth falls open and you pull your eyebrows together; you’re speechless as he brings your and his hand down to his cock again.
The sound is wet and loud as you involuntarily stroke up and down his dick. You’re pulling your hand away but you forgot how strong he is. You have no chance against him, even as you try to yank your arm away with your free hand.
He’s moving your hand faster and harder now, ignoring you completely as his eyes fall shut in pleasure.
You finally feel the lump in your throat release for a second, “Peter–” you start, voice weak and you clear your throat, “You said I could stop if–”
“Just a bit longer,” he grunts, nothing but pure strength guiding you along his dick that is covered in his spit. You knew he was strong, but you never thought he could make you do something against your will like this; you’re powerless, especially in his cramped car.
Peter throws his head back with a moan and hot, white liquid spills all over your hand and the front of his jeans. Your face scrunches up as he grips your hand ever harder, his mouth wide open with a groan, and you feel more drops of his cum on your hand.
Tears finally prick at your eyes and he lets go of you after a few seconds. You wipe your hand on your jeans as quickly as possible, scrambling for the tissues he keeps in his glove department, and you clean off your hand for what feels like hours.
He grabs a tissue too, carelessly throwing it to the back of his car, zipping up his trousers.
Once his dick is out of sight, he feels like the old Peter again. His gaze is like it is any other day, and despite your racing heartbeat you suddenly feel like you’re overreacting, embarrassment creeping in.
“So?” He asks, tone calm, “What did you think?”
“What?” You nearly shout.
“What did you think?” He asks again as if you’re stupid.
“Well I..,” you’re at a loss of words for a bit, “What do you think? You think I was trying to pull my arm away because I was enjoying it? Why did you make me do that?”
“You didn’t even say anything - how am I supposed to know what you want?” He scrunches his eyebrows together, and you feel a pang of guilt in your chest. You don’t want to upset Peter, especially not now that you really know how strong he is.
“I did..,” you mumble, “I said–”
“Relax, I just did you a favor. It was just a handjob. Most girls give those for the first time when they’re like sixteen,” he shrugs.
“They do?”
“Yeah. You were just talking about how you feel behind. I wanted to help you out. Hey, at least you don’t have zero experience anymore,” he shrugs with a smile, unlocking the car doors but you don’t get out immediately. His sweet smile warms your heart and your deep feelings for your best friend come back at once.
You know what he just did wasn’t right, but that doesn’t mean he did it on purpose. Apparently he’s had much more sex than you assumed, so you two have different perspectives. Of course it’s not as much as a big deal for him as it is for you.
Anyway, now that it’s over, you already feel lighter.
And, he’s right, at least you have some experience now. It wasn’t how you imagined, but maybe it’s just one of those things you have to get used to. No one likes beer the first time they drink it and yet it always becomes most people’s go-to drink. You hope you’ll get used to this sex thing too and in any way, you’re glad Peter was the one you did it with.
For now, all you want to do is sleep and remove yourself from this sexualized world.
You get out of the car and remember that you’re at Peter’s place.
“Why didn’t you drive me home?” You ask.
“I thought you were staying at my place. And I’m really tired now.”
“Please.” You’d really prefer to sleep in your own bed, even if you’ve spent the night at Peter’s plenty of times, you’d feel more comfortable in your own four walls right now.
“You can have my bed to yourself and I’ll sleep on the couch, okay?”
You shrug. If he won’t drive you home, you have to sleep at his place. You don’t have money for a taxi and there’s no way you’re walking home alone.
As you step into the familiar apartment, you feel the last bit of tension leave your body. You’ve been here so many times, and it’s like a second home. You feel safe here, and it’s not because of the apartment, but because of Peter.
You would have realized years ago if he was a bad person. He was just helping out his best friend, it’s not his fault that there’s something wrong with you and you don’t enjoy sex like normal people do.
You take a random, oversized shirt from Peter’s bedroom and change in the bathroom.
Your heart sinks when you accidentally touch the cum stain on your jeans. All the bad feelings are back immediately. You might throw up.
You get out of your trousers as fast as possible without touching the drying stain.
Peter might be your best friend, but he’s not stupid. He must have realized how uncomfortable you were.
Even if he just wanted to help you, he shouldn’t have forced you. Enough is enough; and he usually knows when to stop.
You throw on Peter’s shirt, scared yet determined to talk about what just happened.
You find Peter sitting on the couch. He looks at you and asks if you want to watch a film before bed.
How can he be so casual after what just happened?
You sit next to him on the sofa and your anger starts to dissipate again. No matter what just happened, he’s still the same Peter. He’s your best friend and he’d never intentionally do anything to hurt you. He made a mistake, that’s it. It happens to everyone.
Maybe that’s just what sexually active adults do. Maybe he really did do you a favor. Up until twenty minutes ago you weren’t even sure what the word handjob meant. At least you’ll know how to pleasure a guy in the future.
If even your kind and innocent boy-of-your-dreams Peter likes sex, then you guess you won’t ever find a boyfriend that doesn’t need sex from you.
And you’d rather use your hand than your pussy, or worse even, your mouth. Although you’re not sure if people actually do the latter, or if it’s just a perverse fantasy some people have. So at least you’ll know how to do a handjob now.
He’s unaware of your inner turmoil, and your shoulder jerks up when Peter puts a hand on your upper back, “Tired?”
You nod, the lump back in your throat. You’ve never felt this many conflicting emotions at the same time.
“Let’s get you to bed then.” His voice is soft and you feel yourself relaxing once more.
You forget that he said he was going to sleep on the sofa. You’ve always slept in his bed together, and you always felt comfortable. Besides, he left a party early for you, drank less, drove you here and it’s his bed. He has every right to be here.
You try to forget about the day, closing your eyes, facing away from Peter, but his phone light and the lamp next to his bed are bright. You try for another few minutes, but no matter how tired you are, you can’t sleep with this light.
Just as you’re about to ask him when he’s going to bed, you hear his voice. You turn around.
“You know I love you, right?” He asks.
“Oh. Yeah I do. I love you too.”
He puts his phone away, gently kissing your temple, “You know, I feel kind of bad about what happened in the car.”
You smile immediately. You knew Peter wasn’t a bad guy. Your chest suddenly feels free again, like you’re emerging from the water after you were beneath the surface for too long, “I forgive you.”
“Oh,” he furrows his eyebrows, “I wasn’t apologizing.”
Your face falls, dread filling you again, “What?”
“I just meant I feel bad because I didn’t return the favor. I’d love to show you how good it can feel.”
His sincere tone relaxes you a bit, but you’re still cautious after what happened earlier so you sit up, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to.”
“Do you ever touch yourself?”
“No.”
He raises his eyebrows, “You’ve never had an orgasm.” You can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement.
You shrug, feeling bad about your lack of experience again.
“It’ll feel good, I promise,” he smiles, his tone playful but you can’t quite get into the same mood.
“You said the same earlier and it didn’t feel good.”
“Come on. Do you trust me or not?”
You don’t answer straight away. One moment doesn’t erase a decade of trust. Besides, Peter is intimidating tonight and you feel like he’ll get his way no matter what, so cooperating is your best shot.
You swallow and bring yourself to nod, Peter’s eyes darkening.
“See,” he smiles, coming closer. You smell a bit of alcohol in his breath and a hint of that cocktail he likes so much.
You stop breathing as he hovers over you, slowly removing the blanket that’s on top of you. You try to push him away but his chest is like a brick wall.
You gather every ounce of courage and strength in your body as you say: “Peter you’re drunk and I don’t want this.”
“Shh, I promise you will once you realize how good it feels. Trust me. Open your mouth.”
You open your mouth to talk and two of his fingers slide between your lips. You bite them instinctively but Peter is unbothered, and no matter how serious this situation is, you can’t bring yourself to actually try and hurt Peter. He’s not doing anything bad right now, he just has his fingers in your mouth, but it’s nowhere near as bad as what he did earlier.
Fingers wet with your spit, he pulls them out of your mouth and moves down your body. You hold your t-shirt tight but you realize under your shirt is not where he wants to go.
One hand on your waist, Peter brings his fingers towards your underwear and your heartbeat speeds up even more.
Your belly flutters wildly when his fingers go underneath the fabric. You hold his wrist with both hands, trying to pull him away, but it feels like all your strength is gone; you’re paralyzed and it doesn’t just feel that way because he’s ten times stronger than you anyway.
The shock from what happened in the car hasn’t even worn off yet, your body isn’t ready for another intrusion like this. Your body isn’t ready for anything and you’re screaming and thrashing around internally but nothing translates to the outside. You’re left without any power, you don’t feel like a human with an own will anymore. You’re completely at Peter’s mercy.
His wet fingers slide between your legs, touching a spot you never even knew was there. Through all the anxiety and panic, you feel a tiny spark of pleasure from where he’s touching you, but you’re too terrified to really notice.
You gasp when he starts rubbing your clit, going down further where you become aware of an unfamiliar wetness that he dips into.
“Such a fucking wet pussy, all for me. I knew you’d like this,” he grins, looking at your body. You don’t even have time to grimace at the word he uses for your private parts.
“Peter–” it comes out as a whisper and he shushes you immediately.
“Shh, relax. Relax. You can’t tell me you’re not enjoying it if you’re this wet.”
The wetness is loud against his fingers, and he pulls your panties down your legs, humiliating you even more now that he’s seeing it all. You’re exposed in your most vulnerable area, and you didn’t consent.
“Peter,” you try again, your body still not listening as you try to push him off. You just can’t.
He stops, looking you in the eyes. You can’t imagine that you look anything but petrified; his eyes, on the other hand, are passionate. It’s not entirely positive, there’s aggression behind it too, but mostly he’s enjoying this and trying to convince you to do the same.
“I’m your best friend. I’d never so anything to hurt you. Trust me, it’ll feel good if you just let it happen.”
It sounds like he’s giving you a choice, and you finally manage to sit up, making his fingers slide deeper into you, and you lie back down on the bed again with a whimper.
This is not how you imagined having sex with Peter. You hoped it would never happen, but if it did you were sure he’d be gentle and considerate. Something inside of you is screaming that he’s only being rough because he has to force you.
What if you submit? What if you just let him? Maybe he’s right, and you will like it more. Sex isn’t regarded as something desirable for no reason.
You relax your legs and Peter notices this immediately, hovering over you again. Licking his lips, Peter smiles down at you, and you smiling back is like a reflex to you.
He’s already being more gentle, his hand running over your pussy slowly. Fingertips wet, he lifts them to his face, smelling you first. Then he pushes two fingers into his mouth, licking you off of himself like a dessert he needs every last taste of.
You flinch when he suddenly hums, loudly.
“Fucking hell. You’ve been depriving me of that sweet taste all these years?”
You don’t know what he’s talking about. Can you even taste good down there?
You swallow to get yourself ready to talk, “W-was that it? That didn’t feel good.”
He chuckles, “We’re just getting started.”
It’s like he drops another brick into your chest, your heart feels heavier with every passing moment, time going by in slow motion.
You only manage to mumble, “Peter no, please.”
His eyes darken. You’ve taken it too far. You should just make him think you want this as much as him, and he won’t treat you as if he’s having to force you.
“Just lie down before I have to tie you up.”
It’s like a punch in the face that activates your fight or flight again. You can’t make yourself believe that you’re enjoying this.
Your eyes drift towards the door, and suddenly you feel like your body might actually listen to you. But Peter sees this.
“Don’t even think about it–”
He grabs you before you’ve even fully sat up. You have no chance against him, no chance at all.
You can’t scream either; your voice is barely there, muted by fear, and you don’t want him to hold your mouth shut. You already can’t breathe fully, you can’t handle more restriction of your most basic need.
He manhandles you onto your belly, ripping off your shirt. It seems as if the whole mattress is shaking from your heartbeat that’s now pressed against it.
You can’t even see what he’s doing now, and tears start to blur your vision. “Don’t,” you croak, but you don’t even know if any tone comes out of your throat. Your ears are ringing.
Peter pulls you by your legs so you’re on your knees, ass in the air, and he can see everything.
He holds your wrists tight behind your back with ease, “Making things so complicated when all I wanna do is make you feel good.”
You don’t believe him anymore, but it never mattered in the first place. He knows you don’t want this, yet he’s been doing it to you all night. You feel yourself going slack; there’s no fighting him, your body is giving up.
The emotional pain is unbearable, but it’s like your mind and your physical body are two separate entities entirely. You can’t move. You don’t even notice how he’s maneuvered himself so his face is between your legs.
You expect his fingers again, but instead there’s something wet against your wet. Peter’s tongue.
It’s so unexpected that you flinch again and don’t stop moving, but his tongue only ends up in more places you don’t want it so you stay still, testing his grip on your wrists but you can’t even try to pull away - he’s that strong.
You give up once and for all, you’re lying on the bed motionless. Your ass is in the air and right in your best friend’s face. You realize that your face is still scrunched up where it’s buried into the pillow and when you finally relax your muscles, what Peter is doing starts to only feel half as bad.
“Such a dripping mess for me. See, I knew you’d like this. Nearly there.”
You shake your head even though you know he takes no notice of it. No, you don’t like it, because you never wanted him to do anything like this to you in the first place.
He’s licking you like a lollipop, starting to suck on your bundle of nerves and you gasp when he gets faster in his movements. You shut your mouth to stop the moan from coming out - Peter doesn’t deserve to think that you’re enjoying this for even a moment.
Yet, a debauched moan makes its way out of your throat when pleasure explodes through your whole body, drowning you in bliss. You push your face into the pillow as the orgasmic wave floods your every nerve but you can’t enjoy it, and knowing that Peter can even make you feel good against your will makes this whole thing worse.
He lets go of you when it’s over and you fall on your side, pressing your thighs together to hide from him even though he’s already seen everything you don’t want him to, tasted it even.
“Feel good?” He asks, licking his fingers.
You stare ahead of yourself. No, you don’t feel good. You didn’t want it to be like this.
At least it’s over. Finally fucking over.
A sob gets caught in your throat when you suddenly notice Peter getting naked too. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing, maybe even attempt to run away again despite knowing it’s hopeless. But he grabs your hips and pulls them up and against his front, taking hold of your wrists before you can think of using your hands to push him away.
You feel the same soft skin he made you touch in his car. He’s going to fuck you.
Your scream isn’t as loud as you want it to be when he pushes into you, painful inch for painful inch until he’s in you completely.
“Fuck,” he whispers, as he starts thrusting into you, and silent tears spill down your cheeks, “I said I was doing you a favor for your own sexual experience, and I meant that. But now that I know what you feel like? I’m not gonna let any other man experience this. Ever. You’re all mine now.”
don't forget to reblog if you liked the fic <3
#Peter Parker x reader#dark!Peter Parker x reader#dark!Peter parker#Peter Parker smut#dark!Peter Parker smut#peter parker#dark!Peter Parker x you#Peter Parker x you#spiderman#dark!spiderman#Spiderman x reader#Spiderman smut#tw: noncon#tw: dubcon#omg my first fic sdfghjksdfghjk
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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.
© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.
#yanderestarangel#afab reader#tw smut#astv miguel#peter b parker#miguel ohara x reader#peter b parker x reader#peter b parker x you#peter b parker x male reader#peter b parker x ftm reader#miguel ohara x male reader#miguel o'hara imagine#yandere miguel ohara#yandere spiderman#miguel ohara smut#astv smut#ftm reader#transmasc reader#ftm!reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x ftm reader#miguel o'hara x male reader smut#dark smut#spiderman astv#astv fanfic#yandere peter parker#peter parker smut#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x male reader
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Home Alone
──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────
summary | The Avengers go on a mission leaving you all alone, which gives Peter the perfect opportunity to finally claim you as his
warnings | softdark!peter, stalking, drugging, delusional!peter, noncon, sex toys, squirting, loss of virginity (f.), pet names, 18+
this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter
dividers by @firefly-graphics
It was quiet in the compound. That was the first thing you noticed when you walked in after class, exhausted from all the talk about your senior project and the theme of prom.
You had been tired, and slightly agitated knowing that even though you were going home early due to being a senior, you still wouldn’t get any peace and quiet, seeing as you did live with the Avengers.
You had braced yourself for the upcoming ruckus, perhaps Sam and Bucky arguing again or maybe even your dad and Steve getting into it. You were prepared to dash straight to your room and not even acknowledge anybody, but alas, you didn’t have to.
It was quiet.
The second thing you noticed was the note taped to the fridge, written in your father’s handwriting. You curiously snatched it off and then drunk in the words, getting more and more excited by the second as you read it.
Hey there Rockstar,
Fury called us all away on a last minute mission and Pep is away on a business meeting so you have the whole house to yourself. Don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Love, Dad
PS, NO BOYS!!!!!!
You laughed to yourself, noticing that boys was highlighted, underlined, and accompanied by several exclamation marks. Shaking your head at your dad, you smiled before discarding the note.
Inside, you couldn’t deny the excitement that bubbled up at the thought of finally having the whole tower to yourself. Peace and quiet, which was so rare you really and truly didn’t even know what to do with yourself.
You looked around, half expecting it to be a prank and for your chaotic family to walk through the doors at any minute. You stared at the elevator, but as the seconds ticked by your smile only grew, realizing that they were really and truly gone.
“Whoohoo!”
You didn’t care if it was cringey, or even if your dad had cameras recording you at that very moment. You were just so excited that you ran laps around the compound, laughing and hollering until finally you got tired, collapsing on the couch with heavy breaths.
You grinned as you noticed that you didn’t have to fight anybody for a spot, picking up the remote and putting on a show that you wanted to watch for once.
Gossip Girl started to play and you realized that it had been a while since you’d watched it and you needed to catch up. That would be easy now since you had nobody bugging you to do your homework or to change the channel to something they wanted to watch instead.
So, you made yourself comfortable on the couch and even brought over a few snacks, eventually settling down and preparing to enjoy your peaceful night alone.
You weren’t sure when it was that you fell asleep, but you knew the minute that you woke up it had already been a few hours. The moment your eyes peeled open, the bright lights of New York City greeted you through the glass panel windows. It was nighttime, and after checking your phone, you were informed that it was 11 o’clock actually. Not too late, but you had already gotten some well-needed sleep so you knew that you weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon.
Since it was a Friday, you excitedly realized that you could pull an all-nighter and enjoy your time before the Avengers got back. Tony didn’t say when, but if it was all of them, you knew they’d get things done quickly. You probably only had a day to enjoy your freedom and good god, what where you going to do?
You didn’t know when another opportunity like this would arise, so you knew you had to pull out the full works.
Binge watching your favorite show? Check.
Eating your favorite snacks without someone else reaching their grubby little hands over (mainly Tony) and forcing you to share? Check.
Bubble bath? Not yet, but you figured you’d get started on that so you could wash away all the crumbs you had accidentally spilled on yourself while you were asleep.
Standing up, you yawned and slightly stretched before grabbing your dishes and lazily throwing them in the sink. You’d worry about them later or hell, you’d even ask Friday to clean them. They were the least of your concern, so you trudged your way to your bedroom, tired but excited for your bath.
You went to the bathroom and drew your water, throwing in a few fancy bath bombs and soaps Tony had gotten you from Italy. The sweet aroma filled the luxurious bathroom, and you sighed, sitting on the edge of the tub as you watched the water fill up.
Somewhere along the lines, you had changed into nothing but a robe and you were all too eager to strip the minute the water got to your liking. You had also grabbed your phone and your speaker for music and a few candles to really set the relaxing vibe.
After setting everything up, you eagerly tied your hair up so that it wouldn’t get wet, ripped open a facemask, and then it was time to finally sink into the water.
You let out a sigh of content the moment your body settled into the warm bath, the water seemingly sinking into your bones and erasing every trace of anxiety that you had.
It was so soothing that you sunk down until the only thing that wasn’t covered by water was your hair, mouth and nose. You breathed in the sweet scents and allowed yourself to relax, closing your eyes and letting everything go as the light from the candles flickered all around you.
You figured the only thing that could make the experience better was possibly sneaking some of Tony’s gourmet wine, but you were already in the tub and didn’t feel like moving. Plus, you knew your dad would kill you and probably take away your suit as punishment.
You didn’t want to take that risk so you decided that you were fine on the alcoholic beverages — at least until you were sure he wouldn’t know about it.
You decided to just enjoy yourself in other ways, like splashing at the bubbles and popping them with your fingernails.
You giggled as some of the soap got on your face, playing in the bubbles like a child. You scooped them up, waved them around, and even gave yourself a makeshift Gotye like your dad, making sure to take a picture before finally washing it all off.
You laughed again, shaking your head at your childish antics before going back to relaxing. You closed your eyes, and you rested for at least thirty minutes before you finally decided to get out.
Your makeshift spa had come to an end, so you drained the water, threw away the face mask, and put your robe back on along with your house slippers.
You made your way into your bedroom and blew out all the candles, leaving your room to be lit up by the ever glowing city lights below.
It was one of the things you loved most about New York, and despite it being the city that got destroyed the most (mainly because of the Avengers), it was home, and you knew you didn’t want to live anyplace else.
The city lights always made you feel comfortable, almost like wrapping you in a blanket and reassuring you that you were almost never alone.
Sure, in the tower you were, but there were plenty of people still around you, walking below you, across the street from you, two buildings over…
In New York, there were always people out, night or day, and often times like now you loved to just sit on the balcony and watch them.
You watched as a woman walked her dog, as a couple argued over which restaurant to eat at. You watch the musicians on the street, wishing that you were down there to maybe put some money in their guitar cases. You watched the crackheads run around, and everybody else pretend that they didn’t see them, and you even watched all of the stray animals that scurried about the big city, always running as if they had places to be too.
You watched it all, and you don’t know when, but somewhere along the lines you started to get the feeling that maybe you were being watched, too.
You knew it was ridiculous seeing as you were alone in the tower, but the more you stayed on that balcony, the more that you were convinced that somebody had eyes on you as well. Which was plausible, but also nearly impossible.
You were fifty stories above the ground and no building even came close to the height of Stark Tower, so it would be almost impossible to see you unless someone had a telescope. But you didn’t see any anybody on the street with one, and even binoculars wouldn’t be enough to see that far up. You were a mere spec in the night, dust that could’ve easily been mistaken as a stars. There was no way that anybody could see you. They’d have to be super human or something; and all of the super humans you knew were currently out on a mission.
You shook your head.
It was impossible; or at least that’s what you told yourself until the feeling grew to be so uncomfortable that you decided to just go back inside.
You quickly gathered your things from the balcony and when you did step back in your room, you made sure to lock the door, letting out a little breath and shaking your head.
You knew it was ridiculous, but living with super soldiers and spies made you paranoid. So yeah, if your gut was telling you that someone was watching you, or at least that something was making you uncomfortable, you were going to listen.
It might just be nothing, but then again, in the city that never sleeps, almost everything was possible.
You weren’t sure what time it was when you heard it.
After all, you had been fast asleep, knocking out quick after a relaxing night and abandoning your all-nighter. You had called it a night after the incident on the balcony, and you had planned to wake up early, but not quite this early.
When you opened your eyes, it was still dark outside, but you could tell that in a few hours the sun was going to peek out. That meant it was probably around 4 a.m but you frowned, because why in the world would you be hearing things at 4 in the morning?
Things like the sliding door of your balcony opening, things like the wind as it gently blew in your room. Things like footsteps which unfortunately, you didn’t hear until it was too late.
You didn’t hear or see him until it was entirely too late. You couldn’t even process the situation, or fight him off because by the time your foggy brain woke up, he had already crossed the room; a dark shadow that jumped at you the minute you laid your eyes on him.
Then, when you felt the pinch in your neck, it was really too late.
“Ouch!” You exclaimed loudly, shock beginning to fester through your veins which quickly turned to fear as a glove hand smacked over your lips, stopping you from yelling anymore. “Ow, wha…”
“Shh,” His voice terrified you as he leaned in close to your shaking body, the silhouette of his head shaking in the city lights. “You have to be quiet, baby. Friday might hear us.”
Friday. Friday. How the hell did this person know about your AI, and most importantly, how the hell did he manage to sneak past something designed by Tony Stark himself?
How the hell did he get in your room, and what did he want?
You screamed again as the pressure from your lips was released, but you found that it was futile because for some reason, it didn’t come out quite as loud as you wanted.
Your screams were muted; low. Sluggish and sloppy, as if you were drunk. Which was ridiculous because you had refrained from raiding Tony’s stash.
There was no way that you were drunk, but as the man got up from your bed, and as you tried to make a run for it, you found that it quite literally felt like it. Your body stumbled, and a low grown escaped your lips as your knees automatically hit the floor the minute you tried to get up.
Everything was blurry and wobbly, even your screams sounding muted as you dug your fingernails into the marble floors and tried to crawl away from whoever was trying to attack you.
You were trying to do something, but it felt like the more you moved your body, the more tired you began to get.
You tried, but the man quickly rushed over and grabbed you up before you could make your escape.
“Please…please help…”
“Shh,” He cut you off again as you whimpered, him hauling you to your feet and lightly dragging you back to your bed with little resistance from you. Your body felt like literal lead, tied down and helpless.
You tried to cry out, you tried to protest as he laid you on your bed, the little nightgown that you had on riding up slowly, but you found that the sounds only came out slow, gargled. At most, all you could do was stare at the strange man as he finally decided to reveal himself.
“Shh Y/N, you don’t want to do anything that’ll alert Mr. Stark,” He said, and as he set his mask down on the edge of your bed, and as familiarity of his voice floated through your ears, your mouth dropped when you realized exactly who had snuck in your room.
“Peter?”
The realization hit you like a train, a strangle noise leaving your throat as you recognized your father’s latest protégé. He sat on your bed, fluffy brown hair and gentle eyes just as you remembered, a soft smile on his face as he looked at you.
Of course, you’d recognize him anywhere, seeing as you often interacted with him around the tower or at school.
You’d seen him in the hallways, in some of your classes, and you’d even hang out with him and his friends sometimes.
He was a senior like you, destined for MIT and an eventual spot on the Avengers, if your father had anything to say about it.
It was…it was Peter.
That awkward boy that you had mostly only seen in passing. It was Peter, the nerdy yet gold-hearted superhero that wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Peter. It had been Peter that snuck into your room.
“Hey, hey,” He reached out to touch your cheek as you slowly began to cry, the drugs taking its affects as you slump down helplessly on your mattress. You wanted to scream, you wanted to run, you wanted to slap his hand away from your cheeks as he stroked them like he was comforting you. As if he wasn’t the reason you were crying. “Don’t cry princess. Please don’t cry. I’ve been thinking about this for months and I want this to be as enjoyable as possible, so save your tears, okay?”
“Months?!” You wanted to yell out, but instead the words were trapped in your brain, ricocheting around your mind as your thoughts raced at a record pace. What did he mean by…months? Had he been planning this all along?
Oh God, he actually…
It was with another sob that you realized just how truly in danger you were, because somewhere along the lines you had missed this side of Peter and you realized that he had deliberately done this. He waited until you were alone to do this. He had waited, and he had watched you for who knows how long, and you had been oblivious to it all until this very night.
You had underestimated him, and he used it against you in the worst possible way. He had used your father and the other Avengers in the worst way, betraying their trust by stalking the person they all considered a daughter.
Peter had planned this for months. And it was with wide eyes that you saw just how prepared he was when suddenly, he pulled something out of a bag that made you cry even harder.
“I can’t wait to use this on you princess.” He held the sex toy tightly in his right hand while you attempted to kick him, but your legs wouldn’t move. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. You know I’ve thought about this for a while now, right? I’ve thought about what it would be like to pleasure you. To hold you, to taste you. I thought about your body so fucking much and honestly, I’m surprised I even waited this long.”
He chuckled, like what he said was actually funny and you let out another noise as he began to come towards you with the toy.
Suddenly, you regretted wearing a nightgown with no panties because it made it all the more easier for him to just slip it up, revealing your very naked cunt that Peter grinned at.
“It’s like you were expecting me baby,” He teased, and you cried out as he removed his gloves, allowing you to feel his touch in it’s entirety as his hands slipped over your body.
You started to struggle, but then you remembered it was only your mind in turmoil because your body didn’t seem to be moving. Whatever he had injected you with made you feel like cement, so you were helpless as his hands roamed all over your body.
You were forced to stay still as they first landed on your stomach, before daring to go up and eventually caressing your boob.
You cried out, but Peter didn’t stop due to the tears leaking down your face. In fact, you only saw him hesitate for a moment before he finally slipped his hand underneath your nightgown.
He was touching your nipple.
You wanted nothing more than to stop him, but it just wasn’t possible. You were forced to let him roll the bud between his fingers, forced to feel him touch your body. And it wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that his hands were the first to ever roam your body, and you didn’t even get a say in it. You didn’t have a say in anything he planned to do to you, but you naively prayed that this was it.
You didn’t want to think about him going even further than he already had, but then he dipped his head down to your chest, and you knew that this was only the beginning.
Peter’s mouth came into contact with your nipple before you could even process it, his soft lips wrapping around the bud and his tongue darting out to lick at it as you cried.
His brown curls invaded your face as his lips remained on your breast; licking, sucking, and nagging your body into feeling pleasure that you didn’t want to feel.
He used his tongue to send sparks through your core, heat rushing through you, which you tried to stop. You tried to stop the way your lips parted, the way your legs seemed to open involuntarily. You tried to stop your brain from registering the fact that Peter’s mouth was causing you immense pleasure, because you hated yourself for even thinking that.
You were ashamed.
At your thoughts, at your weak body as Peter’s mouth finally left your breast, a small trail of saliva retreating with him. He looked up at you with a sparkle in his eyes that made your stomach lurch before he finally decided to move elsewhere. You whimpered as his hand gently opened your legs, his fingers finding the one spot you never wanted him to.
“Please…Peter don’t—”
His fingers brushed over your sensitive bud and you gasped, quiet sobs begging him not to touch you there. Unfortunately though, Peter mistook your sounds of protest as sounds of pleasure and eagerly looked up at you again.
“Yeah, you like that don’t you?” Peter chuckled, then he pressed a little harder which caused you to quiver and flutter your eyes shut in shame and pleasure. “You like me playing with your pussy, don’t you pretty baby. It’s okay…you can let me know how good it feels.”
“Please,” You opened your mouth to beg him to stop but somehow only that word came out. Peter smiled.
“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. I’m gonna take care of you, all right?” He promised, and you were fearful when his hand left your clit. After a few seconds, cold metal suddenly replaced his skin, which only meant one thing.
“No—!”
Your protest was too late and even if he had heard you, he hadn’t listen to any of the other ones, so you knew he would’ve just kept going. He would’ve turned on the vibrator anyways and took pleasure in the way your body suddenly jerked — the only movement you were capable of so far as you cried out, blubbering as the vibrations travelled through your body.
Peter watched your face as your body shook, taking in the way the tears soaked your cheeks and how pretty you looked in the city lights. He took in the way your mouth was slightly open, but you hadn’t been able to form any words because you were experiencing far too much pleasure.
So much sinful pleasure, that it only made you cry and whimper. Ashamed that you were actually getting off on what Peter was doing to you and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the involuntary movements of your body anymore than you could move it, and you certainly couldn’t stop the rolls of pleasure that gathered in your core as every vibration seemed to sink into you.
You couldn’t stop the cries from your lips, the way you held eye contact with Peter as he held your hand and gently coaxed you through your orgasm.
Suddenly, your shame and humiliation was set to the side and long forgotten about when you finally did let go, letting out a strangled cry and sobbing as your first orgasm racked your body.
Your were shaking, pleasure nearly blinding you as your cum leaked out. Your brain felt like it was clouded, your vision replaced with stars but still you could see the sick smile of satisfaction on Peter’s face as he squeezed your hand gently.
“That’s it…that’s it pretty girl. Cum for me.”
“P-Peter…”
Your voice was broken, your face covered in sweat and tears to the point where you were sure you were unrecognizable. Not only that, but it seemed like every part of your body was either soaked in tears or cum now. The covers beneath you felt soaked as well, and it wasn’t until Peter stood up that you realized why.
You eyed the huge wet spot on the front of his suit and it only took you few seconds to realize what had happened.
With quivering lips, you tried to shake your head with denial but the evidence was indisputable.
It was obvious to you, to Peter, that you hadn’t just came.
You had squirted.
A strangled sob left your lips and — god, if Peter wasn’t smug before, he sure had reason to be now.
“Look at you…such a good girl. I can’t believe you actually squirted for me sweetheart. You’re gonna be nice and wet for me, I can’t wait.”
You just kept crying as everything hit you at once, your ears still ringing and your cunt still sore from your orgasm. Your first orgasm, and if that weren’t bad enough, you had also squirted all over Peter which made him think you liked it.
He thought you liked the way that he made you cum; he thought you liked being a helpless puppet, having no choice but to submit to his mercy.
He thought you wanted him inside of you, which was the worst possible scenario that you could think of.
But it was happening.
You knew it was happening because immediately after you squirted, he laid the vibrator down and in what seemed like a flash, began to strip out the suit that covered the rest of his body.
As best as you could, you tried not to look as his underwear came off as well, but you found it fruitless because Peter grabbed your chin anyway.
He grabbed your chin, and he made you look at him so that you could see his eyes. While yours were glistening with tears that he had caused, his were glistening with the admiration he held for you.
The sick obsession that made him have to have you.
He made you take a glance at what was to come, and before you could even start crying again, he let go of your chin and kissed you so passionately that had it not been for your common sense, your brain would’ve mistaken it as a kiss from a lover.
It was so soft, so passionate, that even though you knew what he was capable of, it was still hard to believe it because well…he was gentle. Gentle, like he was trying not to break you.
Even though he already had.
It seemed like he truly cared about you, and that was the worst part because you knew he wouldn’t stop. And he didn’t.
He kept kissing you and moaning in your mouth, making sure to explore every inch with his tongue and savoring your taste. You tasted sweet, but also bitter like a cherry.
Peter appreciated the irony of this as he deepened the kiss, finally maneuvering himself on top of you. You felt the weight of his body and it felt like it was gonna crush you as he spread your legs. He then settled himself between them, causing the tip of his cock to accidentally brush over your clit. You cried out, but Peter quickly swallowed your cries and there was nothing else that you could do.
This is truly what Peter believed to be right, and in that moment, you accepted defeat, numb as he pulled away from the kiss.
“Tell me if it hurts, okay princess? I’ll try to go as slow as I can,” He reassured you, pressing his forehead to yours. Your hiccups were only thing he got in response, teary eyes peeking up at him.
Through the tears, you could see him smile at you before grabbing your hands and holding them tenderly at your sides. Not that you could move anyways, but you suspect he just did it so that he could lace his fingers through yours.
Then, he spread your legs some more to line himself up with your entrance. He kissed your cheeks, your neck, and even placed tiny kisses on your nipples before he bought himself back up and looked into your eyes.
“I love you,” He said, and then he pushed into you.
“Pe—”
You gasped, as pain traveled through every part of your body, mainly concentrating in your lower regions as Peter pushed himself in and ignored the way you sobbed for him to stop.
It was like he couldn’t even hear you as his eyes fluttered shut, focusing on sinking into your cunt and pushing past every plane of resistance until he was finally where he needed to be.
Buried inside of you to the hilt, his balls against your ass as the squelch of your cum mixed in with your blood reached his ears.
He moved, and you wished you had regained enough feeling to fight him off. But you didn’t, so you were forced to lay there as Peter rocked his hips into yours, moaning like he had just bit into something sweet.
“Fuck.”
He swore as he abused your cunt, his pace fast but gentle. Peter wanted you to enjoy this, he told you, so he tried not to pound into you no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he wanted to be rough, he knew that this was your first time, and he wanted it to be memorable.
He wanted it to be special, so he held himself back and instead decided to focus on you as he continued to thrust into your heat.
He kissed you again, and then his hands left yours so that he could wrap them around your body. Pulling you close so that there truly was no space between the two of you. His chest was touching yours, his cock as deep as it could go. In that moment, you and Peter were truly combined as one, and there was nothing you could do to escape that.
There was nothing you could anymore; not even cry because he had taken your mouth from you as well.
There was nothing you could do as he moaned and fucked you and whispered sweet promises in your ear about how much he loved you, how special you were to him, and how much he couldn’t wait to fill you up.
You dreaded every word, tried to block out every whisper but it was like he was there, invading your every sense and there was nothing you could do to escape from him.
“I’m close,” Peter panted in your ear, clenching his face and slightly speeding up.
You gazed up at him, but you weren’t really looking at him, instead focusing on the ceiling as Peter used your body for his own source of pleasure. You didn’t say anything as he continued to rock his hips into yours, his trusts almost painfully passionate. Each drag of his cock against your walls felt like it had a purpose, and Peter made sure you felt every single inch of him.
There wasn’t any part of him that you didn’t feel. There was no emotion, no feeling spared.
Peter poured everything he had into you until finally, his own thread began to unwind and you winced when he suddenly stilled, cock shuttering inside of you.
You continued to look at the ceiling, but your vision became blurred as you felt his cum paint your walls, flooding directly into your womb.
Peter had gone as deep as he could to release himself inside of you, and when he was done, he collapsed and didn’t bother getting up so that you could get every last drop.
He was still inside of you to the hilt as he lay his head on your chest, squeezing you with his arms still wrapped around you.
He made no move to get up, no move to clean you or himself. He only laid there, basking in the pleasure that just happened to him.
The nightmare that just happened to you.
Peter didn’t move, only shifted as he finally looked up, resting his forehead on yours and smiling.
“I love you, princess,” He said, and suddenly, all of the lights in New York couldn’t brighten the darkness that you felt.
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker smut#dark!peter parker x reader#dark!peter x reader#spider man x reader#spiderman x reader#spider man smut#spiderman smut#dark!peter parker
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Midnight snack | p.p
Warnings- smut, non-con, oral (female), unprotected sex (p in v), rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, spit kink, bondage, reader doesn’t want it, choking
Authors note- this is a dark smut, so if you don’t like it don’t read it,
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When you wake up you feel an intense pleasure all through your body, you feel something against your pussy but before you could react and actually think of what is causing it, you cum your legs twitching and eyes rolling back
That’s when you feel it, a hand holding your thigh down and a tongue against you, you know you fell asleep by yourself and no one else is in the apartment, when you go to move your hands you can’t and you look up seeing the familiar web.
You look back down and see Peter parker your ex, your eyes widen as he says “hey baby, I’ve missed you” as he’s smiling up at you, I go to kick my legs but they are webbed to.
“Peter stop” you say moving your hips, peter just laughs and shakes his head as he says “why would I stop when I just started sweetheart” and he starts kissing up your body stopping at your boobs as he plays with your nipples
He sucks your right nipple into his mouth as he plays with the other one, and you can help but moan for him, peter smiles when he here’s you and he starts leaving hickeys everywhere all over you
Then he reaches his hand down to grab his cock as he slides the head through your folds, tapping your clit a couple times as your legs twitch and he says, “your mine and only mine got it” then he slams into you
You both moan at the feeling your body betraying you as you move your hips to meet his, then he pulls out to just the tip and he slams back in, he does it a couple times slowly, then he goes animalistic and starts pounding into you
You moan louder as he grunts into your ear and he says “always so tight for me love” then he bites your neck sucking, one of his hands slides down your body and to your clit then he starts rubbing fast circles 
“Cum for me baby need to feel you squeeze my cock” he says into your ear as he pounds harder hitting your g spot as you cum all over his cock, but he doesn’t stop he just keeps going harder and harder
He continues to rub your clit as he grabs your neck, choking you lightly and he says “you should have known to not leave me, you stupid stupid girl” as he pounds harder, “and now your never going to be able to leave me again, your mine”
He says then chokes harder and he pounds faster and rubs your clit harder saying “cum one more time baby and I’ll cum in you then we’re done for know”
Your face drops and you say “Peter please dont cum in me” and you cum around him again as your whole body shakes and he says “to bad” then he cums to filling you up
He continues to fuck you both through the high and when you both start to get back to earth he pulls out of you slowly, watching as his cum drips out of you, he gently pushes it back in saying “can’t let any of that go to waste you need yo get pregnant”
Your frozen and you say “Peter what have you done” as you start to cry, Peter wipes your tears and holds you saying “your mine and you need to know it” then he kisses you on the forehead “your going to have my child”
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#peter parker#peter parker smut#peter parker oneshot#marvel#the avengers#dark!peter parker#dark smut#smut#tom holland
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彡 stepbrother!peter parker obsessed with you
NSFW ( mostly just a self-indulgent au )
• reposted since tumblr hid it •
w a r n i n g : contains non con and perv!peter
before tony stark had settled down with pepper potts, he had been with another woman. but after a messy divorce and an unwanted child, he decided to cut off all contact with her.
that woman was your mother. you had never met your father until she handed you off to him one day in the chilly autumn of new york.
after turning 18, she had decided to kick you out and dump you at the very front doors of stark tower.
with loose, messily packed luggage and fat tears staining your face, a man with short curly hair opened the door to you.
of course, later you learned his name was happy and tony trusted him greatly. happy also seemed to willfully obey his every order so you assumed there was a lot of trust and history between them. but you also wondered if tony ever told anyone about you.
it didn’t surprise you though, when you were brought up to tony, escorted by happy, that your father had no idea who you are. and when you explained yourself, he acted shocked you existed.
that’s how you ended up being employed by tony himself, starting out more as an errand runner or assistant to his incessant requests.
you couldn’t lie and say you enjoyed the first few months helping out around the avengers tower and catering to people who intimidated you- but after two years you had come to form closer relationships with those on the team and were more than just a nuisance.
but there was one other person you spent a lot of time with.
peter parker.
you were basically the same age as him, both the same generation and shared the exact same humour. your friendship with peter was nothing like the ones you possessed with the other, older avengers.
your texts between each other consisted of memes and spammed word vomit. peter spilled his secrets and his fears to you while you comforted him and listened. he didn’t see you any differently despite being aware of your hidden relation to his boss, respecting you enough to never bring it up.
there were times where you’d catch him staring at you for too long or you’d accidentally touch each other and he’d linger… just a little bit. you only brushed it off that he was clingy and touch starved.
alas, peter knew sometimes you would feel embarrassed of the fact you were tony’s kid especially when tony never liked to share details about himself to his coworkers. a few of them had been told too but treated you like you weren’t the daughter of one of the most narcissistic men they knew.
another reason you got along well with everyone. so much that you had been silently promoted to aiding in missions and able to train side by side with peter and the rest of the avengers.
when sparing with peter, he’d purposefully sweep your legs out from under you, only to collect your wrist in both of his hands and slam them to the mat, his thighs locked on either side of your hips and his face unnecessarily lowered to hover over yours.
you found most of your sessions under him and while it frustrated you that he beat you every single time, you couldn’t help but notice the look on peter’s face when he did trap you to the floor.
you also noticed how as soon as he got off of you, peter was quick to end the sparring match- practically running out of the gym, his pace fast and posture hunched over. maybe peter was just weird in general?
but he couldn’t help it. seeing you under him, looking vulnerable and so damn pretty like that… his cock swelled with blood and his balls ached with the need to breed you. every. single. time.
the feeling didn’t go away, even after may had died. despite the fact peter had become a mess, you were right there, picking up the pieces that used to be him and taping them back together as best as you could.
that’s when tony had made the executive decision to take peter in. he reasoned that he was already like a father figure to the poor boy, nothing would change. tony obviously had a soft spot for him.
at least, that’s what he said to convince you. and you couldn’t turn peter away when everyone he loved was no longer in his life.
so he moved into the building, took all of his belongings and clothes with him. peter put university on hold while he figured things out. you were understanding and tony- supportive. that’s when he could see the resemblance between you two. you both cared for him. and he suggested to become apart of your family.
of course tony took it the wrong way and surprised peter by adopting him, not even telling you beforehand. you were both speechless but for different reasons.
when peter stroked his leaking dick at night, giving into his fantasies of pushing your head down and dragging his red sensitive tip across your slit and deep inside your soaked walls; he could do so freely. now? now he couldn’t.
he couldn’t have you the way he wanted. peter was definitely frustrated at the new dynamic between you and him but he found it as an excuse to freely walk into your room whenever he wanted. why not? he was your step brother now.
it creeped you out at first, how he would sometimes silently slip past your doorway and make himself at home, occasionally starting up random conversations as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.
eventually you got used to it. sometimes leaving your room to grab a snack or go to the bathroom. you could trust peter not to break anything. he was such a sweet and quiet guy.
and that’s when he would take his chance, going through your drawers and stealing little things of yours.
the sheer panties your best friend from high school had given you for your birthday. a photo of you in a revealing bikini from a trip to the beach when you used to live with your mom. one of the many bottles of body spray that littered your vanity. lotion that you used all the time. another pair of underwear that were less appealing but you wore all the time when you wanted to dress comfortably.
peter even started to lay on your bed on his stomach as soon as you left the room and grind his hips down, rubbing his jean clad bulge against the soft blanket you slept under. he’d stick his face down into your pillow and hump your mattress, veiny hands fisting any fabric he could grab and pulling it closer to his nose, smelling you while he thought of raw dogging your puffy pussy in your own bed.
just when he was on the verge of cumming in his pants, you’d always walk in and he’d feign innocence. pretending he wasn’t just dry humping your bed like a greedy rabbit. you were never the wiser.
you noticed certain things of yours started to go missing little by little until you barely had things to wear or use. you assumed it was the dryer eating your entire wardrobe so you complained to tony and he gave you his card to buy an entire new one.
he didn’t want you going alone though so he made peter go with you. you weren’t entirely thrilled since had he had been glued to your hip almost constantly as of recently but you went along with it, knowing that if you didn’t agree, tony wouldn’t let you go at all.
so when you get to the small shop on the busy corner, peter wouldn’t stop suggesting pieces for you to buy or even try on. you found that they were either way too revealing or borderline inappropriate for him to request. but he wouldn’t stop insisting, going as far as to shove a whole armful of things into you and pushing you to the changing room very eagerly.
“i’m just trying to help.” he told you before closing the door behind you once you fully stepped inside. it didn’t help that every two minutes he’d knock and ask if you had finished, that he wanted to see what they looked like on you.
you obliged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. you were exposed- not to mention in front of peter. your step brother.
you left the small room in the first thing he had shown you, a size too small t-shirt and extremely tiny booty shorts. but peter seemed to hype you up, smiling enthusiastically. his eyes held a glossed over look while his gaze slowly went down your body, taking in how your skin would stick out and show where it probably shouldn’t be.
“okay turn around.” he spoke abruptly, making your face twist into one of uncertainty. he shook his head and merely spoke down to you like you were playing dumb; “come on, i just wanna see what the back looks like.”
huffing out a sigh, you reluctantly shifted your weight and spun to show your backside.
when you did though- you swore you heard a camera clicking but when you whipped your head around to catch whoever had taken your picture without consent.. no one was there.
“peter..?” you meekly stared around, looking for the boy but he had disappeared as if in thin air. the only other people you saw were two employees reorganizing hangers across the wall.
your stomach twisted and you shrunk back into the changing room, not bothering to try the other pieces on and put your own clothes back on, feeling anxious that someone was watching you.
as soon as you went to open the door, peter was standing right in front of the entrance- making you jump and drop the large pile of things you were holding.
“woah, sis. calm down. it’s just me.” he laughed it off, giving you that boyish smile, peter’s eyes never leaving yours. you felt your face flush and apologized- pushing past him to put the exposing clothes back on the racks where he had gotten them from.
ever since then, you felt violated. you avoided peter. you started to ask FRIDAY to lock your door with an access code. you weren’t entirely sure it had been him but he was starting to freak you out even after that day.
you’d wake up multiple nights in a row, in a cold sweat, absolutely sure you could feel someone else had been inside your room besides yourself.
you’d place your hoodie down on the couch to grab a drink, coming back to find it gone.
peter would stay up for two hours after you went to bed, wanting to be certain you had fallen asleep before typing in the access code to your room- watching you put it in while he stuck to the ceiling one day.
he’d quietly shuffle in and see your phone beside your pillow and your face scrunched up while you dreamt. he’d whisper your name just to double check then crept over to your bed, hovering down to stare.
the next thing he knew, he was fucking hard- just by looking at you. that’s what you did to him and you didn’t even know it. his step sister always teasing him, purposefully taunting him with something that was forbidden for peter.
but he bottled up his frustration, struggling to push down his jeans as silently as possible. the slight sound of denim rubbing against itself was drowned out as his pants clung just below his knees. he hadn’t worn a belt for this very reason. wanted easy access while keeping you unaware of his presence.
peter bit his lip when his warm palm finally made contact with his cock, the angry tip already leaking and spilling down to weave through his fingers. “mmshit..” he choked out, careful not to be too loud when he started to stroke himself. his eyes were locked onto your sleeping face, his tongue darting out to drag across his bottom lip with desire. desire for you.
since he couldn’t have you, this was the best he could do, flicking his wrist to increase the speed that his hand jerked his dick, his cheeks wearing a dark flush the faster he went.
“yeah.. wanna breed my lil’sis.. make you mine, baby..” peter muttered, leaning forward so that his cock was right beside the pillow, the back of his hand almost ghosting your nose every time he moved up the entirety of his throbbing length.
he had only touched himself above you one other time but every single night since he saw how your ass looked in those small shorts- he couldn’t help but visit you while you were unconscious, whispering about how badly he wanted to feel your pretty cunt wrapped around his dick, about how good he bets you taste. but he was growing restless, as he confided in your passed out form- he needed more.
which lead to two nights ago. peter couldn’t help but jack off while sitting at the chair in front of your desk in the corner, listening to your soft breaths, one your previously used panties stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet - forcing peter to spurt cum all over his hand and bare thighs.
tonight was no different but he was feeling bolder, the aggressive animalistic demand his mind screamed at him to paint your face and mark you as his. to see how hot you looked while his warm sticky seed dripped down your lips and chin and onto your sheets, ruining them. ruining you.
a low groan rumbled in his chest when you shifted, your face now just under his slapping balls. peter almost came at the sight of your unconscious submission, your eyes fluttering and your lips just barely parted. ready to swallow the load he could feel about to explode from his swollen cock head.
his other hand not gripping his dick, shot out to claw at your head board to steady himself from falling on top of you, his body tingling with pure heat. he could barely stand, his knees buckling and the strong muscles in his pale thighs rippling with the effort to maintain his stance.
he was sure he could last another few minutes but when you moved your arms under your blanket, the sudden action pulled it down, revealing the loose tank top you had chosen to wear to bed.
peter’s eyes flitted down to your tits, and upon noticing you hadn’t worn a bra, your nipples stiff and pressing into the fabric- he let out a loud moan, massive ropes of white cum pouring out of his cock.
a few spurts hit your bare collarbones, your chest, the soft blanket draped over you and of course your pretty face. he watched as the thick goo caught on the tip of your nose and bottom lip- gravity causing it to run inside your mouth and down your cheeks onto the pillow.
“fuuuck.” peter cursed at the sight of his cum soaked step sister, all laid out for him.
when you felt something hot splatter your skin you flinched. it had made you stir. blinking your messy eyelids, trying to get whatever it was out of your eyes- you were fully awakened when you heard that familiar click of a camera.
rising your hand up to drag your numb fingers across your face, whatever was on it stuck to your digits and webbed between them. then you noticed it was also in your mouth so you leaned forward and let it drizzle out past your lips and land on your sheets. then you saw movement in the darkness and your unfocused gaze lifted to just barely be able to make out what it was. or who it was.
your body ran cold- you were first met with a cock that was still strikingly hard, leaking and pointing right at you, followed by hair framing the base of the shaft, accompanied by a small trail of the same hair up to below his bellybutton.. peter’s face above it all.
he lowered his phone with clouded eyes, panting heavily and cheeks flushed. his eyes on you.
“…pete?”
#peter parker x you#peter parker x reader#peter parker#dark!peter parker#dark!peter x reader#stepbrother!peter parker#step siblings#x reader#smut#fanfic#marvel#marvel smut#female reader#peter parker x female reader#avengers#headcannons#best friends#self insert#creative#writing
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A DARK AGE - PREVIEW
a tasm fan fiction // coming june 2023 // click here to read notes
“Spider-Man’s not a murderer.” You weren’t entirely sure who you were attempting to convince with the statement; Jameson or yourself.
Jameson’s shoulders lifted into a lazy shrug, leaning back in the rickety chair. You knew his opinion on Spider-Man, knew his stance on the matter. Still, even he knew that Spider-Man had never crossed that line before. “No, he isn’t.” He agreed with you. “But he’s about to be. He’s the only one that can be linked to the crime scene. If Sytsevich dies—and it’s only a matter of time—then Spider-Man’s the one who goes down for it.”
Your mind was reeling, gaze falling to the floor. Coffee still leaked from your cup, causing the already prominent stain to grow in size, but you didn’t care.
New York had already begun to turn on Spider-Man. The city that he had saved time and time again had grown to hate him, unable to forgive him for abandoning them entirely, for leaving them to wonder if their beloved hero was even still alive. And to come back like this? To come back a murderer?
“It’ll turn into a man-hunt.”
There was no other outcome for it, both of you knew that much. There was already an eerie sense of unrest that had settled amongst the city in Spider-Man’s absence; and if it was confirmed that their former symbol of hope had abandoned his own code of ethics? The world would turn to nothing but chaos.
It would be the dawn of a new age.
A dark age.
bonus teaser scene - peter parker dialogue from A Dark Age
#dark!peter parker#tasm peter parker imagine#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#spiderman imagine#dark!spiderman#yandere spiderman#yandere peter parker#mcu imagine#harry osborn imagine#tasm harry osborn#tasmedit#peter parker fic#spiderman fanfiction#peter parker x y/n#spiderman fic#andrew!peter fluff#andrew!peter fan fiction#andrew!peter smut#peter parker smut#marvel mcu#marvel x reader#marvel
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mdni 18+! seriously pls go away if ur under 18! fall works for every day of october! some scary, some cozy, and almost always smutty. probably shouldn’t have called this ‘kinktober’ as not every day will be a kink, yolo. a lot of works will include ddlg themes, size kink, daddy kink, fem!reader and hyper feminine themes. you are responsible for your own media consumption. all pieces will have warnings at the beginning of their works. wishing you all the spookiest, ghoulish october ever! 🙀
masterlist ! navigation ! support my work
01. The Lion and The Lamb, Part One. (vampire!king!eddie munson x princess!reader)
02. Subdrop (dom!steve harrington x sub!reader)
03. Sapphic Age Gap (MILF!Nancy Wheeler x reader)
04. Trick or Treat (Daddy!Bucky Barnes x Little!reader) [plot has changed to a halloween party!]
05. First time parents (Dad!Steve Harrington x Mum!reader)
06. Sugar Daddy (CEO!Steve Rogers x reader)
07. Size Kink (Daddy!Ari Levinson x reader)
08. Overstimulation (Bodyguard!James Potter x Princess!reader)
09. Age Gap (DILF!Joel Miller x reader)
10. Dacryphilia (Daryl Dixon x younger!reader)
11. Hot cocoa and kisses (Daddy!Ari Levinson x Little!reader)
12. Mommy Kink (Nancy Wheeler x reader)
13. Daddy Kink (Daryl Dixon x reader)
14. Dry Humping (Eddie Munson x reader)
15. The Lion and The Lamb, Part Two. (Vampire!King!Eddie Munson x Princess!reader)
16. Stockholm Syndrome (dark!rick Grimes x reader)
17. Make-up sex (Remus Lupin x reader)
18. Cock Warming (Ron Weasley x reader)
19. A/B/O (Alpha!Steve Harrington x reader)
20. Babysitter (Joel Miller x reader)
21. Serial Killers (Ghostface!Steve Harrington x Ghostface!Eddie Munson x reader)
22. Safe Word (Steve Harrington x crybaby!reader)
23. Body Worship (Joel Miller x reader)
24. On The Run (Psycho!Eddie Munson x Psycho!reader)
25. Dumbification (Daryl Dixon x crybaby!reader)
26. Stepbrother (Stepbrother!Peter Parker x Stepsister!reader)
27. Thigh Riding (Dom!Remus Lupin x Sub!reader)
28. Brat Taming (Dom!Eddie x Sub!reader)
29. Refrigerator light (Dad!Steve Harrington x Mum!reader)
30. Pet Play (Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!reader)
31. The Lion and The Lamb, Part Three. (Vampire!King!Eddie x Princess!reader)
#<3 eddie munson#<3 steve harrington#<3 ari levinson#<3 steve rogers#a/b/o#dark! :0#<3 bucky barnes#multiple characters#<3 remus lupin#<3 james potter#<3 nancy wheeler#<3 peter parker#kinktober#smut#kinktober smut#stranger things smut#steve harrington smut#october writing challenge#eddie munson smut#nancy wheeler smut#ari levinson smut#little!reader#crybaby!reader#tw: daddy kink#vampire!eddie#but daddy i love him#age gap smut#abby’s kinktober !#<3 rick grimes
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The Hunting Ground (18+)
Dom!Tom Holland x sub!bratty!Reader
Summary: How else would you get adventure back into your life than to visit a speakeasy that's definitly not a kinky-cult-sex-club?
Themes: EXPLICIT, BDSM and mentions of BDM, dom/sub, knife play, breath play, unprotect p in v, oral (fem rec.), orgasm denial, overstimulation
w/c: 13k oops
a/n: it's late and it's 13k so I'll probs revisit another time whoops. apologies if writing gets sloppy.
MASTERLIST
“Come on. This has got to be a joke. This is the kinkiest cult shit I’ve ever seen.”
“Nope. Not a joke.”
“When I said I was looking for something exciting and adventurous, I didn’t mean a sex club!” You flippantly disregard the masquerade mask onto the couch, whilst your friend Danny, holds his elegantly in his hand as if it is the beholder of all his memories.
“It isn’t a sex club. It’s…an opportunity.” Danny’s lips twist into a smirk that wavers between sweet and sinful. That alone should’ve told you that his opinion on this ‘club’ was simply that. An opinion. A biassed one at that. The other thing Danny doesn’t account for is that opinions are subjective, interchangeable and while he sees his little kinky sex club as an opportunity, you see it more of a shameless hookup with cultic motives.
But you’re curious to hear how he can possibly sell this to you. “Oh yeah? An opportunity for what? Enlighten me.”
Your friend coyly swivels his hips playfully, that all too familiar bashful glow emanating from his olive cheeks. He leans gayly over the edge of the couch with his bottom lip snagged between his teeth, entrapped in his childlike manner and embracing his inner Princess Diaries by swinging his feet. He so desperately wants to say ‘to flirt with hot men and recklessly have sex with them with no strings attached’, but to your surprise, his answer is a little more profound and in-depth.
“To meet like-minded people who share similar interests. To embrace a community that doesn’t judge you for what you like, who…take you as you are. It’s actually very liberating.”
“Puh-lease! You threw that innuendo in there on purpose. Look. It’s a sex club. You meet up to have sex. That’s the common ground.”
“Oh my God, you speak about it like it’s a brothel and you couldn’t be more wrong. Okay, okay, I’ll admit, it’s a little provocative, but it’s not like some sex dungeon, it’s a speakeasy. There’s a bar, drinks, music, dancing, it’s totally chill. You don’t even need to have sex, it’s not a guarantee.”
You fold your arms, staring outwardly and chewing your lips as you mull over the possibility that it might not all be what you initially think it is. But the only way to prove otherwise is to go. Dammit you wish you weren't so curious.
“And…what’s this place called?”
Danny smiles contentedly. “The Hunting Ground.”
~~~~~
“Do I really have to wear this?” The flimsy black ribbon of the mask trickles through your fingers. The shell is midnight black with a faint covering of silver lace, embellished with enough sparkle to catch your eye under the streetlights. Ahead of you is what looks like an ordinary bar under the false name of The Playground. The tinted windows and low purple LED lights inside is a clever ruse to fool anyone who is none the wiser to believe that the mystery is revealed when you step inside, leaving no other incentive to keep exploring. However, hidden behind the facade of an ‘ordinary bar’ as confirmed by Danny, is the speakeasy. It’s quietly genius; it’s all hidden in plain sight.
“Yes, you have to wear it; it’s like a pass for entry into the club since it’s invitation-only. Plus, anonymity is kinda a thing here. Especially for newbies if they’re not too sure what they’re looking for. You get all types of people here. You’re bound to find someone who is yours.”
You roll your eyes as you tie the ribbon tightly around your head with a grunt, the thick plastic mask sitting squarely on the bridge of your nose. “Anonymity, sure. These things are as good a disguise as Superman putting on his glasses and all of a sudden he’s Clark Kent and completely unrecognisable.”
“Trust me. They do their job. Oh and one last thing.” Why is he smirking again? “Sub or Dom?”
“Come again?”
“What are you, Sub or Dom?”
You blink. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what that means.”
“God, you’re so vanilla--they’re, um…types of people.” Danny vaguely explains and purses his lips, thinking as he evaluates you. “Hmm, we'll stick to sub for now. When you get inside grab a white cup.”
“Fuck sake.”
You follow Danny down a poorly lit, narrow staircase and you get a sense of entering a restricted area, having it not as well decorated, but then you remember; it’s supposed to be secretive and unwelcoming to any wandering stranger. The staircase is quiet compared to the floors above you and below you, giving off a feeling of limbo, neither here nor there as the pounding of the bass-heavy music distorts your sense of direction. There’s two different songs playing and they blend into each other so well that you can’t quite tell what is coming from where, but the further you descend down the staircase, the more obvious it becomes. The floor above you is phased out when you come to a stone archway, lined with plum velvet curtains hanging at either side where wisps of vapour spill from the room. A fiery red spotlight casts a shadow where the words ‘The Hunting Ground’ are projected on the wall to welcome you. Danny stops you before you enter.
“And you told me this wasn’t a sex club,” you quip, motioning to the entrance to hell.
“Remember it’s just to socialise. Nothing needs to happen, okay? After a drink or two, you’ll start to loosen up and have more fun.”
You huff. “I’ll take your word for it.”
You take one step into the stuffy haze and instantly you feel the change in aura, perhaps because you know what people are here to do. Danny patiently waits with you as you soak in the sights, the smells, the heat and the very suffocating atmosphere of the room in front of you. A fine mist hovers in the air, just enough to hinder your view of anything further than 10 metres in front of you - probably intentional to hide the erotic acts in the corner - and only the blacklights and the dancing neon laser lights shoot through. Unlike the bar above, the music is slower and less adrenaline pumping, perfect to fulfil its purpose of enticing its listeners to socialise rather than all-out partying, but in effect, it makes you more nervous; how do you socialise with people you’ve never met? You bump shoulders with Danny is a quiet plea to stay close.
A few people within eyesight turn their heads as you enter in your sage green dress, making their judgements on you through the narrow slits of their masks, a symbol of membership to the club, identical to the one you wear. Under the cover of darkness, the masks do actually provide a sense of anonymity and you take back an earlier thought; what the hell are these masks going to hide? Everything apparently.
You decide not to linger around the entrance any longer for you feel that others can smell your hesitance a mile off. You make a B-line to the table adorning white cups, directly across the table that hold a much smaller number of black cups, and perpendicular to a table with grey cups. As soon as the rim of the cup touches your lips and alcohol sears your throat, you ease a little.
“God, I feel like I’ve just entered the mafia. Why is this place so stiff?”
Danny laughs inwardly. “Oh they’re stiff alright.” That earns him a swift elbow to the ribcage. “Ow!”
“You said this place was chill and judgement free.”
“It is--”
“Then why do I feel like I’m being victimised?”
For a fleeting moment, you catch Danny’s eyes flitting over to the white cup you hold in your hand, being quickly emptied by you. There’s obviously significance behind the white and black cups and you’re certain Danny knows why as he too picks up a white cup with conviction, but what significance they have is being purposely withheld from you.
It’s definitely a cult thing.
“They just want to get to know you. Give them a chance. It’s all with friendly intentions, I promise.”
“Uh-huh.”
Like Danny said, there’s all sorts of people here; men, women, and more situated around the room whether it’s standing in small clusters around a table or sitting in smaller, more private groups in booths. Few white cups, some grey cups, but black cups hold the majority. Some are dressed more provocative than you would ever dare where some keep their secrets to themselves. Those who begin dancing are booming with confidence, sashaying their hips while others simply observe with a glass of whisky in hand. Even hours into the night, you’re still pondering over the likemindedness of such a diverse group. There must be something that ties these people together, because every hour or so you catch a glimpse of couples' escapades, hand-in-hand as they disappear through another archway with a black curtain.
“I’ll be right back,” Danny murmurs into your ear.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m just going to catch up with a friend. I won’t be long. You can manage your own for a bit, can’t you?”
“Don’t think I have much of a choice.”
Danny quickly disappears into the smog and across the dancefloor, and by the time he reaches the bar, he’s out of your sight and anxiety creeps in. As ever, you find solace in the very alcoholic drink, quietly sipping away in a dark corner of the room.
Or at least you thought you were in the corner of the room…
The solid wall behind you suddenly swings open and you lose your balance, falling backwards into the void that has just opened up. Your heart leaps to your throat and your lungs flood themselves with oxygen to prepare for what you know will be a painful fall and the loss of your dignity. Inches from disaster, a miracle happens when two hands reach out to hook underneath your arms and break your fall, leaving you hovering over the floor until the stranger finds the strength to bring you back to your feet again. Sadly, there’s nothing to be done about your drink that puddles on the floor…
With a breath of relief, you quickly compose yourself, turning around to see that indeed the wall you were standing against was actually a door, and in that doorway now stands the masked stranger that saved you from your fall. He stands just a couple of inches taller than you, dressed in a black suit (it could be navy - it’s just so damn dark in here) but replaces the standard crisp, white shirt with a baby blue one, keeping it casual with undone buttons by his collar. You want to make more guesses of his appearance but this club’s obsession with anonymity is slowly becoming a nuisance.
“I’m so sorry, I really thought that was a wall.”
“No worries, it’s easily done.” His words are smooth and puckish, and you feel like he genuinely believes you when he places a gentle supporting hand against your back.
“Right? Especially with a place like this, I mean, would it hurt to turn up the lights even just a little bit?” An innocent laugh escapes you but the second you see his lips parting in what you can only assume is disbelief, you instantly feel like you might’ve crossed a line. His hand drops and sinks deep into his pocket. So much for no judgement…
“Well, we could but most members here know there’s a door here.”
Caught.
He doesn’t watch for your reaction as he picks up the empty white cup from the floor, long, slender fingers holding it tightly while he studies it for a moment and the corners of his lips tug a little before settling it on a nearby table. You’re still not privy to the colour codes and their meanings, and something itches inside of you when you see this stranger turn to you with a knowing smirk on his face. Because he knows.
He folds his arms, muscles defined in the tight squeeze of his blazer and stands stoically before you. “You’re looking a little lost, newbie.”
“I’m just waiting on my friend Danny. He’s the one who brought me here. I don’t know why to be honest. I don’t really think this is my kind of scene.”
The stranger tilts his head curiously. “How so?”
You snort. Isn’t it obvious? “I mean the mask thing is a little weird. And the segregation of cups? What the hell is that all about? Like, I’m always down for something different but the anti-religion cult vibes just isn’t doing it for me. I haven’t been here that long and already I’ve had so many daggers from people that I just can’t tell whether they want to kill me or eat me.”
“Oh my God, you really have no idea, do you? Tell me then, if this place doesn’t suit your majesty’s preferences, why are you still here?”
This stranger doesn’t need you to take off your mask to know that there’s a scowl taking over your features. Affronted, you decide to mirror him, folding your arms and delivering his own stinking attitude back to him.
“Cut the sass. You asked me a question and I answered it. If you listened, you would’ve heard me say that my friend brought me here. Said that if I was looking for something exciting and adventurous I should come here, but I’m not seeing either. Anyway, what does it matter to you?”
“Careful, newbie. Some people here don’t take too kindly towards being spoken to like that. It can get you into a lot of trouble, unless you’re searching for it, in which case, Danny was right to bring you here. And tell him he should’ve put a straw in your drink too.”
You’re so fed up with these innuendos. “I don’t even know what that means!”
The stranger takes a step forwards and brushes your shoulder with his. You hold your breath as he leans down close to your ear and murmurs words that sound like a threat. A shiver descends down your spine. “Ask him to explain it. Tell him that Tom told him too.”
Your stance stays strong as the stranger sweeps past you in an obtrusive manner without a word to spare. Finally out of sight, you give in to the urge to roll your eyes and scoff with as much conviction until satisfied, having suppressed it in front of that stranger. You’re never one to be so outwardly rude to someone, but unless it’s warranted, then by all means, give them hell.
The interaction has somewhat soured your mood, and considering that this place has yet to prove any of Danny’s claims of what a ‘friendly, non judgemental’ place this is, you might make the move to leave. You’ve been here long enough and you doubt that the fun has yet to come.
Not three steps towards your leave, you’re stopped by Danny emerging from the smog like a phantom. “Oh hey! You’re alive! See? I told you’d be fine.”
“Yeah, not fine, Danny. Don’t leave me ever again.”
“Such a drama queen. Where’s your drink?”
“Spilled it almost falling over. By the way, what do the colours on the cups mean? Some guy ‘Tom’ said that you were to tell me what they mean.”
His smile drops and hangs ajar, eyes wide as he processes the words, the name you’ve just invoked. “Tom--did you just say Tom?”
“Yes, why? He also said that you should’ve put a straw in my drink too. Danny, for the love of God, what the fuck does that mean?”
Annoyingly, he ignores your last question. “What did you say to him?”
Danny devotes all of his attention to you as you recount the interaction from beginning to end, sure not to leave any details out. As your friend, all of your expectations are placed on him taking your side in it all, but with each word you spill, he cringes further and further into himself.
“Then I told him to cut the sass--he was being so rude to me!”
“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” You’re struggling to understand why your friend has descended into a fit of laughter, creasing over until he can no longer catch his breath. It’s great that he’s finding it so hilarious that he can’t even seem to straighten himself up to give you an answer, but what’s even better is that you can’t even begin to imagine how many people are witness to Danny descending into mania while you stand with your arms folded, a slack jaw and a look that could kill. And even if some can’t see it, they can bloody well hear it. “I cannot believe you said that to him!”
“Danny, I don’t have time for this. If you don’t tell me at least something, I’m leaving.”
“Wait, wait, wait, sorry, I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you.” After wiping the tears from his eyes, he latches onto your arms and pulls you into his side, directing you to look out at the room before you. “Okay, so you remember the question I asked you before we came in? About being a sub or a dom?” You nod. “The cups are representative of that. White for sub, black for dom. Grey if you don’t particularly have a preference. They’re sometimes called switches.”
“Okay, but what does sub and dom actually mean?”
“They’re just abbreviations. Submissive or Dominant if you want to be proper. They define what a person likes to be in the bedroom. Dominants are usually controlling, they like to manipulate and gain pleasure from using submissives in whatever way they like. Submissives gain pleasure from being controlled, from being told what to do and will usually go through extreme measures to satisfy their doms, and in lieu, themselves. For example, see over there?” Danny points to a booth of what looks like two guys sitting on either side of a girl. They are shadowing over her, running fingertips up and down her leg whilst she sits bashfully in the middle. “Two doms and a sub.”
You look to another area of the room and in the corner you see a woman, dressed in the tightest latex corset you could imagine, and she looks fucking amazing in it. Full of luscious curves. Her confidence is striking as she walks with her head high like she owns everything in the room. She somehow makes picking up a black cup look sexy, drinking from it until it’s empty but inexplicably doesn’t swallow. With her puffed cheeks, she grabs the face of a man who kneels beside her, opening his mouth—“Oh my God!” The words spill from your lips as you watch the woman spit her drink into the man’s mouth, swallowing with glee in his eyes.
“Anyone can be sub or dom. That’s why the cups make it so much easier to identify who’s who and cuts out all the small chat bullshit in between.”
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. This is a fucking sex club. “But how did you know I was going to be a sub?”
“I just guessed. It takes a certain confidence and skill to know how to be a dom, and no offence honey, but I don’t think you’d be a good dom.”
“And the straw?”
“Signifies a bratty sub. A sub who likes to be controlled but also loves the fight against it. Anything to piss their dom off.”
“Hold on. A brat?! Who the fuck does this Tom guy think he is? He’s talked to me for no more than five minutes and he calls me a brat?”
“Shhh!! Shut up!!! Oh my God!!” He hurriedly ushers you away from prying ears and you feel a sort of trepidation when he looks around cautiously. “Honey, you know I love you and I care for you but you have seriously fucked up to the point where I literally cannot protect you from what’s about to happen.”
“What? How?”
“Tom’s the owner of this place.” He’s trying to hold in his laughter again. “And you just stood there and insulted everything about his club to him--oh my GOD you are so dead. I’m weak just thinking about it.” Had he not been squealing and bouncing on his tip-toes in a nervous but weirdly excited way, you probably would’ve taken Danny’s warning a little more seriously. In Danny’s overly-dramatic fashion, his translation of ‘dead’ just means that you’re only slightly in trouble.
“So what, he’ll probably just kick me out.”
“You better wish that’s what he’ll do because Tom is a capital D-O-M and is a stickler for obedience. He has everyone, sub or dom, address him as sir. It’s like one of his rules.”
“Sir? Really? Are we back in school?”
Your own mocking laughter is the last thing you hear before a voice creeps up behind you, settling deep into the canals of your ear and shocking you into a small but powerful fright. “We can be if you like. At least then I can teach you a lesson or two about how to respect me, newbie.” The way his voice instantly scorches everything inside you is mildly terrifying. It’s the mixer in your soup of emotions; trepidation, anxiety, curiosity, exhilaration, anticipation, swirling together in the pit of your stomach.
You and Danny’s eyes are locked in a stupor, both of you donning guilt-ridden, colourless faces. You think it wise to follow Danny’s lead in not speaking, not moving because only he knows the repercussions that you face. Besides, if you listened to what your brain initially told you to do, you would be in a lot more trouble.
A wordless plea twinkles in your eye and your heart plummets when you see your friend respond with tightly pursed lips and a subtle shake of the head.
“Next time you bring your friends, Danny, I would expect you to inform them on how to conduct themselves around me. You should know better.”
“Sorry, sir.” Danny’s voice wobbles. Fucking wobbles. Loud and proud Danny, centre of attention on the worst of days, always one to speak his mind and is never afraid of judgement, and now he’s…scared.
“Now go. Justin’s waiting for you.” The unfamiliar person Danny has become swiftly brushes past you with no more than a final apologetic look and disappears further into the centre of the room. A certain desperation keeps your eyes on him for as long as you possibly can until you eventually accept your defeat, standing here alone with Tom stalking very close behind you. You notice his shadow standing just on the coast of your peripheral, lurking.
After an excruciating silence, Tom eventually murmurs into your ear, just the edges of his mask skimming the side of your hairline.
“Follow me to my office. We need to have a chat about rules.”
“Okay,” you breathe.
Sure enough the door you nearly fell through enters the hallway leading to his office. It’s well lit, spotlighting the framed memorabilia on the wall and you almost choke a gasp when you see what they contain. Whips, paddles, cuffs, chains, anything of an erotic nature is framed, dated and hung on these walls in plain sight. Tom catches a glance of your awestruck eyes from over his shoulder, smirking wickedly. Little do you know that that isn’t even half of his collection.
He enters the office first leaving you to nervously trail in behind him.
“Sit.”
The tickle of velvet feathers your bare thighs, knees already knocking together while Tom takes a stand behind his desk, underneath the low-intensity spotlight that shines down on him from above. Your eyes skate over his features the second he unties his mask, shadows hugging every sharp angle from the crook of his brow bone to the contour of his cheeks. Holy fuck. Your knees lock tighter together.
“Mask off.” It falls to your lap. When you look back up at him, you see that he doesn’t bother hiding how he takes in every inch of you and it makes the burn of his stare even more obvious. “What do you know already?”
“Um, not much. Danny told me about the masks, Doms and Subs, the thing about the cups, addressing you as ‘sir’ and…” you clear your throat, a previous anger returning, “having a straw in my cup.”
“Ah, so he explained it to you, did he?” Fuck, even his grin is perfect.
You bite your gums, eyes averting. “Wish he didn’t.”
A piercing whistle rings in your ear, short and sharp in the small, panelled office causing an audible wince. “Oi, eyes up here.” Did he just whistle at you? “I’m going to handle this very delicately because you’re new, but if you keep testing my patience then I won’t even give you the chance to back out.”
What the fuck.
“Since your friend failed to explain the rules, I’ll have to do it instead. This is my private establishment and I expect anyone who enters it to follow my rules, including newbies like you. Rule number one: respect. Respect for me, respect for others, respect for the property. Simple, yes?”
“Yes.” His eyes widened slightly, “sir.”
Tom begins to circle around his desk, nearing you. You tuck your feet in underneath the chair as he leans against the desk a foot in front of you. “Rule number two: boundaries. Boundaries must be set by every individual and must be adhered to by every individual. That includes things they consent to and things they don’t consent to, and safe-words should be agreed to and abided by also. Yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I know you know rule number three.”
But does he know that you also hate rule number three? Grinding your teeth together, you bite back his answer. “Yes. Sir--” Before you’re able to utter another syllable from your lips, Tom has your cheeks in the pinch of his fingers, pulling you from your seat until you’re just a breath away from his own. Despite the circumstances of your racing heart and your throbbing cheeks, you come to realise that Tom has brown eyes, that his suit is really black, that he has one strand of hair that curls against the rest. Shit. You’re really dipping your toes into muddy water here.
“See this fucking attitude of yours? Drop it. If you’re really so eager to talk, you’ll tell me what it is you want out of this. And know that before you start speaking, you’re on your last warning.” Thankfully, his grip loosens but it doesn’t disappear completely. Keeping you just as reigned in as before, his fingers sink to the curve of your chin and curl around it gently. It’s hypnotising enough that it coaxes you into spilling the truth.
“A little bit of excitement and adventure. Danny suggested I could find it here. So I came to find out for myself.”
“And?”
“I’m…not sure yet.”
“We can certainly offer what you’re looking for, but it depends what kind of adventure you want to take. Do you want to explore or do you want to experience?”
“What’s the difference?”
Tom drinks in your curiosity, content with a quirk to his wet lips. All is silent in his sound-proof office, the beat of your own heart thundering in your ears and it’s the only thing you can tune into while the incredibly intimidating man in front of you sadistically drags out each and every second. “We can start off slow, test your endurance and your tolerances, discover your likes and dislikes, introduce new things one at a time, a soft start over a number of weeks.”
“...Or?”
His pupils dilate. “Everything all at once. A full session, right here, right now. Thrown in right at the deep end. No restrictions and I get full control. An experience to say the very least.”
You gasp and the breath gets stuck in your throat. As the idea is spoken into words, you can’t help but picture everything you saw in the hallway, the whips, the paddles, the chains, the ludicrousy of them ever being used as sources of pleasure and begin to feel yourself being overwhelmed. Albeit, the rebellious side of you plagues you with the mentality of saying ‘fuck it’ and trying it anyway, its voice ringing with the sound of your youth; willing to try everything, to say that you were brave enough to try it, to run away from the boring life of always saying no because you just weren’t sure. You might even find that it’s something you like…
“What do you say?” He whispers with the small coaxing of his thumb gracing over your pout. “And don’t leave it up to me. I think you know what I would prefer.”
You take a breath, cheeks already flushing knowing what’s to come. “I…I want the experience.”
He doesn’t move aside from his lids opening a fraction wider. “Say it again. To be sure.”
“I want the experience.”
A slow, salacious moan sings through his sigh, his breath crashing against your skin like a wave. “Mmmm, I was so hoping you would say that. I’ve been wanting to put this brat back in her place all…night…long. Now I can. All. Night. Long.” Warmth encircles your neck and you realise that his hand has completely captured your throat, controlling every breath you breathe. You desperately try to whimper but even then, all your sounds are clamped down by him. Sensing danger, your own hands reach for his wrist as he pushes you back against the spine of the chair and shadows over you with fire in his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Safe word?”
“Err…” You don’t have one. You’ll have to make one up. What did you have for dinner last night? “Pasta.”
Tom chuckles but accepts it. “Pasta it is.”
When your one and only chance to speak is taken, Tom quickly readjusts his grip on your throat again, closing it off until your skin is tinted red with exertion. He sinks low, invading your space until there’s nothing but him in your darkening sights, until his lips skim the tips of yours.
“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you all night. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep that urge at bay? So fucking hard. I knew you were a newbie, but fuck, you were so fucking rude. You know, you never even thanked me for helping you up earlier. Instead, you chose to insult my club and my customers, and when you do that, you insult me. That doesn’t fly with me and something will need to be done about that mouth of yours.”
You gasp erratically, fighting for breath and his vendetta against you refuses to relent. Just as blackness consumes your vision, just as you're hanging on the precipice of consciousness, he finally relieves the tension and you gulp down air like it’s your drug, your lifeline. Almost simultaneously, Tom thrashes his lips against yours, seizing back whatever oxygen you just gained in a vicious attack. His tongue slips in almost too seamlessly, brushing against your own and tasting every inch he can reach.
From one method of suffocation to another. With his hand no longer occupied at the base of your throat, you find it clamped to the roots of your hair, keeping you detained as he forcefully kisses and licks every part of your mouth, barely leaving any time to breathe. It isn’t painful as such, but god damn it’s overwhelming. The small squeak of struggle easily gets swallowed up by him and he growls for more. In time, another is drawn out but this time it's the result of Tom’s other hand pulling down the neckline of your dress and finding your tits, pinching and squeezing with a passion that’s guaranteed to leave behind a bruise. To say you completely underestimated what the experience is and how little prepared you are for it, is under-statement of the fucking century.
He really isn’t shy, is he?
Minutes go by and you’re losing sensation in your swollen lips and Tom can sense that too; you become lethargic, sloppy and out of control but that’s exactly what Tom is waiting for. He can feel the plumpness of your lips as he drags them out slowly between his teeth, perfect to have wrapped around his cock.
He stands to his tallest, your hair still tight in his grip. “Do you have anything to say to me?”
“I’m…I’m sorry, sir.”
“What else?”
“Th-thank you for helping me up, sir.”
“There’s actually one thing you should know about me,” he murmurs darkly. “If someone is apologising or thanking me, I expect them to show their regret or their gratitude to me. Usually on their knees. That way, I know they mean it.”
“And if I don’t?” You are genuinely curious.
A shadow casts over his face, eyes glowering at your words. He clenches his jaw so tightly that you have to remind yourself to unclench yours out of fear. In quiet, articulated words, he provides you with the first piece of insight of what kind of night lies ahead of you. “I will fuck you and edge you against this desk until you are spent of every piece of sanity that keeps your bratty brain together. Even if you beg, even if you are crying out for release, I will not stop until you are nothing but my cum-filled slut.”
“Fucking hell,” you whimper quietly, but he hears it all the same.
“I would think very carefully about your next words, newbie, or you’re going to become very familiar with my temper.”
Hey, you said you were up for the experience…right?
It takes just a fraction of your lips to curl into a smirk for Tom to realise your motives. Provoked by just the smallest of your smiles, he runs his tongue along the lining of his cheek. He can’t quite tell if he’s insulted or pleased, regardless, the result of either is the same; he will have you reduced to absolutely nothing if his life depends on it. After all, he doesn’t allow insults to run dry on him, he snuffs them out as soon as possible and that’s the lesson you need to learn.
“Don’t fucking do it,” he warns one last time. How generous of him.
The air is tight and feverish, and so very, very quiet. Until…”Fuck. You.”
Your words trigger a pregnant pause, leaving just enough time to hear a pin drop before something sinister happens. A cacophony fills the room: the wooden scraping of the chair legs as Tom yanks you from it, the squeal and the grunt that marry together, the clutter of objects as they fall from the desk to the floor, the resounding thump as your body mercilessly collides with the wooden desk and subsequent the yelp of pain to be heard by no one other than Tom.
The brute’s groping hands impatiently tug at your dress, whipping it up to sit around your torso and the moment your ass is exposed to him, he wastes no time to drill his hips into yours in a desperate bid to split your legs wider and keep you still. The sweltering heat of your cunt seeps onto his trousers and, even contained, his cock feels it all. The harder he pushes to force you down, the harder the edge of the desk cuts through your pelvis, and the longer you stay there, the louder your pleas become. And every second of it all is like heroin to him. This is his high.
Tom rips your underwear from you, the thin material reduced to rags in seconds and just as quick, they become your bindings. With your hands now tied behind your back by the remains of your wet thong and your head smothered against the wooden surface, you are unequivocally oppressed.
“Stay there, and don’t move.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t bother trying that shit with me. You’re too late. You’ve already made your decision to be a brat, so I’ll fuck you like one.”
The recognisable sound of chain links clinking together stops your heart dead in your chest. “Wait, what are you doing?” You try to shimmy a look over your shoulder to take a peak, but you can’t see Tom crouching down behind you.
“Extra precaution.” Cold metal tightly hugs your ankles, grinding away at your bone with every tug. There’s little room to move, you can barely bend your knee without causing yourself harm. You didn’t want to believe it, but the reality is true: he’s chaining you to his desk.
“No fucking way.”
“Yes way. This is what you asked for.” He leans down to leave a patronising kiss to the shell of your ear, unbinding your hands and placing them exactly where he wants them, gripped to the edge of the desk beside your head. Not chained, but the wordless warning to keep them there is evident in the squeeze to your wrists. You’re almost crucified to the desk. It’s enough to make your sweltering body shiver. “And I’ll gladly provide.”
Without warning, he spits into your ass and stops to watch it trickle down to your clit with hunger ruining his patience. He collects it with deft fingers, spreading it through every lip of your cunt, all the way back to gloss your puckered hole. You can feel every movement of his whether feathered or anchored, following the path of his fingers from your asshole to your clit and back again, only stopping to teasingly circle your entrance. He repeats it over and over and over again until you’re leaking with your own slick, glistening underneath the singular spotlight and the fire of Tom’s eyes. It’s tantalising. Worse yet because you can’t move to stop him. You’re stuck with a burning cheek pressed against the desk and your hands trapped under what feels like Tom’s invisible reins.
“Look over to my clock and tell me what time it is.”
“It’s 11:57pm.”
“Good to know.”
By 11:59pm he has you teetering towards the edge of your first orgasm with as little as two fingers and a thumb violating your cunt. By the turn of a new day, he has you wishing you had just said sorry and meant it.
“Such a tight little pussy.” He groans behind you, littering small kisses along the base of your spine and your ass. His two fingers enter you again, anchoring down on the spot that winds you up so perfectly, stroking it with the curl of his knuckle and just when you both sense the coil tightening, he picks up speed and power. Anxiety and excitement broil in your stomach.
“Oh God, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He already knows this. He doesn’t need you telling him. In fact, he’s familiarised himself with the quivering of your thighs, the shaking of your body and already, he knows exactly when to stop. “No! Fuck!” You grieve over the loss of your climax quietly with a small groan laced with heavy breaths.
His gruff, irritated voice buzzes straight down your ear, vibrating with impatience. “You will take what I give you. And you will thank me for it.”
The voice that spills from your lips is hardly recognisable. Whining, winging and moping, you don’t quite understand where the grovelling came from and how it took over, but you can’t find it in you to stop it.
“Thank you, sir.”
And just like that, the routine starts again and without a doubt, the result is the same.
Muscles ache, bones shaking, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of liquifying here on his desk. Alas, Tom possesses the ability to keep you solid like no other man has, keeping you somewhat stable and conscious enough to make you feel every last drop of his torment. No matter what sweet relief you feel when he gently massages your cunt, it’s completely forgotten about the moment he slaps the back of your thighs for moving your hands one centimetre out of place. And just like that, you’re back in the room.
When Tom painfully edges you for the sixth time, he asks you to read the time again. The digits of the numbers have blurred since the last time you checked, but you can just make them out. “It’s 12:32am”
He smirks. “Good to know. Fuck, look at the mess you’re making on my floor.” A flat palm smacks against your cunt, seizing at the stimulation. Your thighs beg to squeeze together, anything to build up some friction to tame the urge but the chains rattle beneath you, keeping you contained.
He tames the fire with the lick of his fingers that curl eloquently onto your clit and swivels it around in circles in the same, insatiable manner as before. At first, you think he’s going to build you up again like he has done for the last thirty-something minutes and you’re not so sure that your mind and body can take the strain, but you feel the pressure of his other hand anchoring down onto your back, pressing your stomach flat against the wooden desk and eliminating any chance you have of escaping. Not that you had any before, but Tom’s a man of guarantee rather than possibilities.
It’s new and the prospect that he might allow to cum reignites the exhilaration in your core.
Effortlessly, he sets your nerves on fire, plucking every one with overstimulation and you're on the cusp of the well-desired orgasm that you’ve waited for for what seems like all night. You writhe so desperately for it that your pebbled nipples are starting to chafe underneath you.
Tom’s maniacal laugh drifts into your ears, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses against your ear and your neck. “What do you want?”
You open your mouth and moans spill out, not the words of an answer. He continues to ruin you anyway. “I want…I want to cum. Please!”
“So you don’t want my forgiveness? You’d rather cum instead? So fucking selfish of you.”
He rips his fingers from you and the sensation is lost. “NO!”
“Yessss.”
~~~~~
You still haven’t came yet. How the fuck have you not been allowed to cum in all the pleasure Tom’s fingers and teasing words have granted you? He hasn’t allowed you to move either leaving all of your muscles, joints and sanity aching against the stiff wood as you remain prisoner to his chains. And as his prisoner, all of your self-control has been stripped from you. With your eyes closed, voice gone, mind vacant, Tom decides to finally, finally, re-evaluate the situation.
And by re-evaluate, you mean change position.
Now unchained, he forces you to lie on your back and you’re thankful that the desk is long enough to support your head, because when you are being punished with extremities, the littlest things can be a saving grace.
“Tell me the time.”
You look over, Tom catching a glint of your red cheeks and the imprints of the wooden grain etched into your skin. “It’s…it’s 1:23am.”
He grins wickedly, licking his lips, and with a smooth wink, he replies. “Good to know.”
“Please, Tom.” The crack is your voice is liquid gold in Tom’s ears and with his hands skating over your thighs, he hears what you have to say. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I am…so sorry. Please--I…I can’t take it anymore.”
“What is it you want?”
“I want your forgiveness. Please, sir.”
He sees it. He really does; the desperation in the tear that leaves your eye, the look of absolute surrender donning your features in fear that he won’t accept your apology, and even in the way your body warms at his touch tells him that there’s nothing else that you desire. That’s the part he loves most and the main attraction for his dominant tendencies; the moment when the bad turn good. When they’re at such a loss with their original intentions that they have no other option but to surrender and submit. From brazen words to pitiful pleas. From bratty attitudes to willful compliance. From ‘fuck you’s to ‘thank you’s. When that switch is pulled, that’s when Tom knows he’s won.
He holds your legs dearly in his hands, your swollen cunt perched directly in front of him as he crouches to the floor. It’s red, puffy and glistening in the light, screaming out to be touched, filled and ultimately freed of the orgasm that is running ragged inside.
He eases the slight quiver in your thighs with a grounding kiss, powerful enough to emboss just the traces of teeth marks onto your skin.
“What a good girl you’ve become.” The same kiss is planted on your other thigh, just a hint closer to your crying cunt. “I’ll tell you another thing about me,” he whispers, feeling the softness of your skin against his lips. “I don’t just dominate and manipulate people, I manipulate pleasure too. I control it. I can stop it from happening, but sometimes I can be in the mood to make sure it never stops happening.”
You take a breath and hold it. The anticipation of what’s about to happen savagely ruins your mind that you just can’t settle your pulse, and even if you try to slowly release that breath, you realise that it is all in vain. Your heart still positively thunders in your chest.
“And guess what, sweetheart?”
Traces of your voice weakly spill out. “What?”
“I’m in that exact mood.”
Tom doesn’t waste a second before his tongue is licking a fat, wet strip up the centre of your cunt and completely destroys your sanity. It’s slow, meticulous in its travels as it covers every inch of you from your hole to your clit and your body involuntarily searches for more. It’s like a wave, rolling over your cunt before crashing into the bundle of nerves at the end. Your cries vibrate through your body, all to be felt by Tom when his lips tightly seal around your cunt, suffocating it with the heat of his mouth and the lashings of his tongue. It’s incredibly enthralling; being constantly aware of every small minuscule change in direction. From thrusting into your hole with tenacity to swirling tightly around your clit in a frenzy, there’s no telling what he’ll do next.
Your body drips with sweat and you can’t decide if it’s from all the involuntary squirming upon the table or if it's the fire within, being fuelled by Tom’s uncontained lust. There’s a small explosion waiting to happen inside you, and Tom holds the detonation trigger.
“Holy fuck.”
“Mmmmm.”
With his head buried beneath your thighs, his hands blindly roam your body. They descend down your thighs and over the valleys of your hip bones, shaping the contours of your waist before feeling the grooves of your ribcage as they expand with each pant you breathe, until he finds your tits, groping and pinching where he can. In both of your minds though, his hands are an afterthought, especially when his gorgeous mouth is massaging your pussy so rhythmically, moving against you like a ship on a wave.
“Ohhhh my God,” you whimper, feeling the burn in your abdomen descend deeper and deeper towards your cunt. You’re so close it hurts. Your legs start to twitch closer together.
“Legs open,” he mumbles. “And look at me. Look at who’s got you shaking.”
You cast your eyes downward, unblinking as he sucks and pulls at your cunt with his lips, making what you think to be the most salacious, delicious sounds a man could make while eating you out.
“F-fuck. Tom, please—.”
Tom’s dark lashes lift, lids heavy as he stares at you with such forbidden intentions that it’s enough to make you shiver. Neither of you break the connection and you think it might just be the final nail in the coffin. With a deathly snarl, he claws at the back of your thighs, lifting them until they are pressed harshly against your chest and pans all of his attention, mind, body and soul into forcing you to cum. You sob as his tongue darts out, abusing your clit in all directions and it slingshots you directly towards the climax you have been aching for.
“Tom!”
With a final flick of his tongue, you crash into your orgasm. It immediately wreaks havoc on your system and splinters your sanity completely, so much that you can’t tell whether you're ascending or crumbling right here on his desk. Your lips part to scream, but your consciousness is shattered into a million pieces and your voice is lost. Wood creaks as your nails dig into the edge of the desk, white-knuckled and numb with a grip so tight you swear you feel your bones begin to bend under the strain.
Like he promises, Tom doesn’t stop. Despite being trapped between your thighs, despite the wriggling and writhing, your pleas and desperate whispers, Tom doesn’t stop. Not for one second.
Every flick of his tongue is more intimate than the last, plucking at your nerves so harshly, nerves that are already pulsing and in need of mercy. Regardless, Tom remains kneeling, feasting on you like you are his last meal, last drink, last breath he’ll ever take.
Swimming through the pain, you come out of the other side to find another climax already waiting, just seconds from bursting as drastically as the first one. With one final pleading look to Tom, his dark eyes swallow you whole, subliminally telling you that he’s more than ready to keep this cycle going for as long as he deems necessary.
Mercilessly, his lips seal around your cunt, tongue slithering itself straight deep into your entrance, still not yet satisfied with what he’s tasted all ready. You’re so wet, and with Tom’s constant laving and licking he only just adds to the mess that he spreads with his hands to your thighs until the glossy sheen catches your eyes. The sparkle of it makes you truly realise for yourself just how aroused he has made you, the sight so alien from your own eyes. No man has ever worn you down like this before. It’s…unnerving. Only because you’re not sure if this is supposed to be what it’s like.
As another orgasm explodes, your body shudders violently on the table, his hands digging themselves into the crooks of your knees being the only thing to keep you from completely wriggling away. Your head collapses against the desk and gives way to a desperate whimper. It isn’t cute, it isn’t coy or coquettish like what you’ve heard before in porn or films. It’s raw, painful and very, very real.
It never seems to end. You’ve lost the ability to determine when one climax ends and when the next starts.
By the fifth time - at least, you think - he claims yet another, an hour later, you break.
After his torture renders you thoughtless, mindless and perhaps a tad vacant, your instincts quickly take over. Your hands whip from the silent hold he had on them and swing down to push Tom’s head full of curls away from your aching cunt while it still throbs through the orgasm. He grabs your wrists, far too quickly for your liking. Tom watches your every movement through his brows, still latched onto your clit, giving nothing away of the disapproval you know he would be demonstrating had he not been so adamant in eating every particle of you. “Please,” your hoarse voice scratches your throat, sounding nothing like you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything, please--ah, fuck--it’s too much.”
Slowly, deathly slowly, Tom’s lips detach from you, finally granting you freedom, salvation, relief. Yet he just can’t resist recoiling every other second for just one last taste, one last swift lap of his tongue from entrance to clit in one clean strip. The moment all touch detaches from you, your thighs swing close, nursing the pulse that squeezes at your abused clit, taming the orgasm as it flickers its last flame.
“Fucking hell,” you pant. “You truly are a sadist.”
Tom only chuckles, deep, dark, leaking from lips soaked in your slick. It rumbles straight to your core. “Tell me the time, sweetheart.”
Bleary eyes lazily drag themselves over to the clock and after a few blinks, the numbers sharpen. “It’s 2:38am.”
His fingers tickle up your shin, tracing circles around your knee. “So, so good--” you gasp, darting to catch his hand before it sinks between your thighs. He smirks, “--to know.”
Your sadist allows you just one minute, you know because he counts it, to cool down and let your body reset; a glass of water, a clean rag and a comfy seat, unshackled and dressed. He also very calmly warns you as he sheds his blazer and unbuttons his cufflinks, rolling his sleeve up his tanned, muscular arm, that although it’s very late into the night, traipsing on the verge of closing, that you still have a long night ahead of you.
A small breath narrowly slips from your lips while you hold his stare. You can’t even dwell on the gravitas of the situation, not risking spending the valuable seconds of your - likely - only cool down. So you bite your lip, sit yourself down and quietly regain your energy.
Your heart beat doesn’t slow as quickly as you want it to. The exhilaration doesn’t leave your system either, stuck in a perpetual cycle of replaying all that had just unfolded.
You force your way through a breathing exercise sitting on the chair he originally placed you in, facing forward, blocking him out behind you because you know that one look at him and he would detonate all that you had worked to subdue. Once calm, the tether between mind and body reconnects and there’s one thing that screams down the line.
Filled with pleasure, yet still feeling empty. Yet to be fucked.
Tom alerts you that your cool down has come to an end as he saunters out of the dark corner behind you. It felt like barely a second. He had watched you the entire time, eyes roaming your figure, how it shook, how it quivered, how you barely managed to stand on your own two feet as you jumped from the desk, body scorching with the heat from your core. You were like a new-born deer learning to walk while he was a wolf waiting in the shadows.
Sat on the chair, you spin around to complain, attitude brimming, mouth open, words at the ready and…“Hmph!” His hand clamps down hard onto your mouth, pinching your nose with the other. Not a breath slips through.
“Here’s me thinking you had learned to know better than to talk back to me.” His body arches over your head above you, tilting your head back to catch the panic glaze over your wide eyes. You think he’s going to do something rash, something to make you regret even thinking about turning around to answer him back; a slap to the face, a tug to your roots, something as evil as his wicked voice sounds in your ear.
So you can't exactly blame your heart for tripping over itself when, as smooth as butter, he lowers his head, lips puckering to lay a slight kiss to your forehead. It feels like air, an offering that doesn’t conceal something malice behind it. A fragile dusting of comfort to your skin, gentle like a snowflake feathering down onto the ground. Your conscience arrows towards it.
When he lifts his hands from your mouth and nose, you don’t find yourself desperately sucking in the air you lost. Rather, you inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. It had to be that small, insignificant little kiss that lay your nerves to rest.
Tom is one hell of a manipulator.
His lips remain lingering on your skin, skating over the surface, mirroring his hands as they trickle down your cheeks and hold your jaw in their embrace. He whispers…“Do you think you can behave like my good girl again?” A small hum of confirmation buzzes at your lips. It isn’t enough for him. “Take this as your warning. If you decide to be a brat, if you decide to not listen to every word I say from now on, know that I cannot be responsible for what happens to you.”
The severity of his caution has your eyes opening just a fraction wider, able to read the same warning that traces his words in his eyes. He means it. Really means it. Danny’s words echo around your head. ‘He’s a stickler for obedience’. What is he about to do to you that it’s imperative you listen to what he says?
You could say no. You could invoke upon your safe word and make it stop right now. But when you delve deeper into the part of you that made you agree to this in the first place, you find that it still roars with life, telling you that your need for adventure hasn’t quite been satiated.
You swallow, throat bobbing under his digits. “I understand.”
He scrunches his nose in delight. “Perfect.”
You don’t turn to follow his movements to the back of his office, your ears tell you what you need to know. A cupboard door squeaks open, old, rickety, likely an antique. Then rustling. Objects hard, soft, textured, plastic, rubber, metal. A hum of satisfaction, then the closing squeak of the door, different to the first. His footsteps near you, perching directly behind you while you feel the soft sweep of his torso brush against your hair.
Then darkness. Soft, pillowy darkness that floods your vision. Remnants of light trapped in your irises float around like shooting stars before fading completely. It’s the only thing you can hone in on as the knot tied behind your head tightens, confirming that he has indeed blindfolded you.
“Remember your safe word.” He breathes into your ear in earnest. Pasta. “Don’t hesitate to use it.”
“Yes, sir.” You don’t know if he’s still expecting you to say that, but you do it anyway to stay in good graces with him. You’re not entirely sure if it will make a difference to the impending danger Tom warned you of. Even if it doesn’t, Tom’s lip still curls anyway.
“Good,” a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth has you blushing, “now don’t move.”
A single breath is all you have to prepare yourself before something cold eases across the skin of your arm. Insubstantial, almost weightless, it falls from the curve of your right shoulder and descends down until it reaches your hand, resting on the velvet arm. The sensation is ghostly but frigid, gliding but piercing. You can’t quite work out what it is…
The same icy coldness retraces its path back up your arm, floating and gliding along your clavicle and stops directly at the base of your throat, the pit where your collar bones meet.
It knicks your skin.
“Oh my God--”
“Don’t. Move.”
Holy fuck. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It is a fucking knife.
That’s the metal object you heard. And its sharpest point is resting directly against your neck.
Your skin pales and your stomach swirls with nausea. All your efforts to stay still and keep calm drains very quickly and panic floods in. Any chills the knife aroused in its cold path is replaced by small beads of sweat, your entire body blazing, screaming danger. Surprisingly, among other things, your nipples begin pebbling, brushing harder against the silk slip of a dress that adorns your body the more the blade's sharpest edge tickles along your skin. Your heart pounds, the sound of panic-infused adrenaline thrumming in your ears, comparable to the time you went on that rickety, old roller coaster when you were younger.
You guess the memory isn’t too dissimilar; forced to feel the thrill of having your own safety rest in someone else’s hands. You have no control here.
It’s…intoxicating.
A dark admission on your behalf, but you’re here for the experience, right?
You dare not speak, dare not break his rules as the peak of the very sharp knife trails lightly up the column of your throat as its runway, bumping over your trachea, scraping the finest layer of your skin, commanding you to incline your head as it rises higher and higher. Your lungs expand and you can’t deflate them until the knife flicks off your chin. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
In the stone cold silence of his room, the resonating shwing of the knife rings in your ears. A small respite.
From what you can hear, Tom moves behind you somewhere. The creak of the floorboard dances from the left to the right and back again, giving you not one hint of where he plans to strike next, subjecting you to the torment of crippling anticipation until he does.
Suddenly the blade comes into contact once more with your skin, laying its long, razor sharp edge against your neck. Your body freezes, your nails scratch the edge of the armchair.
“Stand,” Tom commands sharply. The knife’s blade maintains the same pressure on you, even as you come to a stand, knees knocking beneath you.
Seconds later, the chair clatters behind you, just the swiftest of touches of velvet to your calves before it crashes off to your left, and where four legs once sat now stand just two. Tom. The warmth of his breath flowing past your ear is a stark contrast to the cool blade on your throat. But it’s the low grumble bubbling against your back that plucks a chord deep in your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter…
“I can feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribcage, newbie. Worried?”
Yes…
“Or is it more than that? Excitement? Anxiety? Lust? Desire? What is it? Tell me, a penny for your thoughts.”
“Nerves. Mostly. But…exhilaration and curiosity. And confusion.”
“About?”
“Do people actually get off on this?”
He chuckles at your naivety. “Lots of people do. It’s perfect for keeping any brat in their place. But you’ll find it’s mostly the sort that spend all day bossing people about. Whose jobs are to take on the burden of responsibility, leadership, authority. If it’s been a particularly long and hard day for them, they come here. This is their relief.”
“To be held at knife point?”
“To relinquish control. To let someone else take the reins for once. To be controlled rather than being in control. The knife just adds that flare, the incentive to keep them in that headspace of receiving orders instead of being the one to make them. It could be a gun if you’d like,” he jests. You’d shake your head, but you might slice your throat in the process.
You take a constricted breath, feeling the weight of the knife’s edge becoming just that little bit heavier. “And…do you like it? Being the one in control?”
He presses himself against you as if to mould the contours of your body into his, lips furrowing deep into the crook of your outstretched neck roaming where they please. His free hand anchors down onto your hip, slithering its way across the expanse of your abdomen where, if he held you long enough, would feel the flutter of butterflies wings coming from within. Alas, he spreads his fingers, sinking lower onto your pelvis, teasing the curve of your pubic bone and presses down hard, bending you into him. As if the knife he holds against your neck isn’t controlling enough.
His erection pokes and prods at your backside. He’s so hard you release a whimper. What you would give to feel him inside you.
Tom’s words speak directly onto your neck like he’s tattooing them onto you. “I love it.” A beat, then--“Tell me,” he says, low in tone and volume. “Your dress. Any sentimental attachment to it?”
“No.”
The knife’s blade glides to the strap of your dress on your shoulder and picks it up, pulling it taut. “Good.”
One tug and the material snaps.
A small yelp falls out and a flinch has your shoulders raising just an inch closer to your ear. The integrity of your dress now hangs precariously with just one strap holding on for dear life. If one thing is for certain, it won’t be holding on for much longer. You smother the urge to scold him for ruining your dress, your property, and lest you forget the threat of the very sharp knife he holds against you, it’s only the straps, you could tie them back together as a temporary solution. An easy fix.
The knife repeats its actions on the other side until your dress hangs lifelessly around your hips. The cold air bites at your nipples and Tom doesn’t wait one second before he brings the tip to circle around the little bud.
“Oh--” You can’t stop your head tilting back onto Tom’s shoulder when the slight overdose of adrenaline makes you dizzy. The tickling sensation refuses to relent, crossing over the valley between your tits to tease your other bud just as salaciously.
Just when you find pleasure of the tip running rings around your nipples, when Tom’s hand sinks to cup your pantiless sex, when his scent rushes in through your nose, a harsh slap of the blade's flat edge to your tit whips you back to caution. It’s unexpected. Being blindfolded, every touch is. Any touch you feel, whether blade or not, makes you flinch. Quick as a bolt of lightning surging through your body. It’s torturous because in your darkness, in your paranoia, you’re permanently recoiled, shielding, flinching at nothing, waiting for the next hit.
He’ll strike. You know he will. Not knowing when is killing you. And he knows it.
“You asked if I like what I do-” his finger sinks into you, skimming over your clit wet with your slick, “-from what I can feel, I think you like it too.” Your hips buck to gain more friction from both his fingers and from his hard cock pressed against your ass, desperate to feel that euphoria of pleasure again. A sick, twisted crack of satisfaction surges through you when you hear him moan. “Shame you’ve forgotten your manners.”
The surface of the knife slaps you again, harsh against your nipple. “Ow! T-thank you, sir.”
“Better. Now move.”
A few blind steps clumsily place you facing a wall, palms resting flat against the wallpaper while Tom kicks your feet further apart. He makes sure that while he puppeteers you to never let you forget that the knife he holds is always within close proximity, that if you dare defy him, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Gentle scrapes, warning knicks, cold presses, even to go as far as break skin would he warn you.
The audacity he has, though, when he takes the knife and slices his way through the remaining fabric of your dress, leaving you to stand stark naked before him. That’s going to be less easy to fix…
“You ripped my dress!”
“Problem?” His voice is challenging, subliminally daring you to bite the bait.
“How the hell am I supposed to get home with no clothes?”
The fiery attitude that tries to bloom inside dies the instant he presses the flat edge of the blade flush against your cunt. The cold surface lying against your heat causes a stutter in your breath. It pushes upwards, almost lifting you off from your feet and onto your tiptoes from fear that any slight movement of defiance would trigger excruciating pain. It’s dangerous, careless, and reckless, and you wish you could scream it, thrash around, push him away and yell in his face. The compulsion is overwhelming. If only you didn’t have a knife to your cunt…
“Telling me your problem isn’t going to make it my problem.”
Your jaw slacks, away from his prying eyes and you suppose you could allow yourself just one moment of freedom. Just one moment of no restraint because releasing what you’re dying to say would just be as gratifying as the first time Tom allowed you to cum. You can easily feel the knot that’s dying to unwind, and saying what intransigent words would tease out the knot inside you, and also send him reeling.
He wants to call you a bratty sub? Fine. That’s what he’ll get.
“You are such a bastard, do you know that? I think you’ve spent too much time being told ‘yes, sir, of course, sir, thank you, sir’ that it’s all gotten to your head. Maybe you could do with being reminded that not everything you do deserves that.”
Quick as a whip, the blade snaps to your neck, digging into your skin that you feel it tearing your skin. The wince is evidence of your pain, but Tom ignores it, settling on placing his focus not on the knife he holds against you, but how quickly he can undo his belt, his trousers, springing his hard cock free and lining it up with your sopping cunt.
Without a warning, because you don’t deserve one, he thrusts into your core, holding your breath hostage under the knife. “So fucking tight,” he stutters to himself. Even for him, the sensation is immense. His next message is for you. “Cheeky little bitch. Think you’re clever? Think you’re funny? We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re begging me to stop.”
Your bodies clash as Tom begins rutting his hips against your ass, the staccato notes of skin on skin and the room swallows every snap, barely making out the door. He fills you, stretches you, and ruins you within seconds and you can’t explain how the pain you feel translates so quickly into pleasure. You feel yourself needing more of it. The stretch, the burn, the knife, it’s indescribable.
His relentless pace maintains, stopping every ten or so seconds to ensure he fills every inch of you, submerging himself to the hilt and mercilessly grinding his hips against you, rolling around your cunt. Without fail, your hands claw at the wallpaper when he does, begging for reprieve.
“When I tell you,” he pants, lips pursed and eyes ablaze, still holding the knife firmly against your neck. “You are going to give me everything.”
He drops himself, snatching a slab of flesh between your neck and shoulder between his teeth and bites viciously in his frustration and you howl. His thrusts only become faster and harsher.
“I need to feel you squeeze around my cock.” A hand slides between your bodies and starts toying with your clit. “I’m not going to stop until I feel you cum around me.”
Tom effortlessly tugs at the elastic band in your stomach and you are about to snap. He overloads your senses, violating your sensitive cunt to the point where you can feel it pulse in anticipation of the orgasm that is threatening to spill. Under the knife that now trails down your body, a pressure builds and it clenches your muscles with its tight grip, and with each pounding Tom hits you with, it grows a little closer to letting go.
Tom fucks you in phases, fast, slow, harsh, gentle, silent, loud, anything and everything thrown into his efforts to completely tear you apart. If it’s regret he’s after, he’s got it. If it’s an apology he wants, it’s there for the taking. If he desires to hear you begging, then it’s on the horizon. You’re willing to give because you’re not sure you know where your limits are, and with your legging threatening to crumble beneath you, you sense that you’re about to get a good idea.
Tears brim your eyes only to be soaked up by the blindfold, a quiet plea for release.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please! ” Tom denies relief, keeping you squirming on his cock until his needs are satisfied. He has no care for you writhing to get away, because he can easily drag you back where he wants you with just a swift reminder of the blade that pierces your skin. You’re certain by now that you have tiny little cuts littered over your body, accidental or not.
“Tom, stop! I can’t! It’s too much. Fuck!” He doesn’t heed your cries because to him, they are the symphonies he is waiting to hear.
Your entire body quivers and with the flick of his deft fingers and the thrust of his cock, you come undone. There’s no holding it in anymore. The elastic band snaps and a white-hot wash of pleasure convulses through your body. Blood pumping at your core but Tom isn’t relenting.
The squeeze of your orgasm around his cock is suffocating, but yet just as painfully pleasurable as he needs it to be for the euphoric feeling to consume him. Finally, as the walls of your cunt contract once more, he cums inside you. But by this point, you are weak and Tom can clearly see just how destroyed you are. Nevertheless, his selfishness convinces him to pull away and sink into you over and over again, slower and with purpose.
“Don’t you have something to say to me, sweetheart?”
“I’m s-sorry, fuck, I’m sorry!”
“Taking me so well. My little cocksleeve, aren’t you?” He peels away the blindfold to find your eyes over your shoulder, but in your pain and exhaustion you can’t focus on much else and your eyes serve a very glazed-over look. “Look at me,” he spits, you obey. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Remember that any time you want to act like a brat.” He thrusts into you again as a testament to his words.
“Yes,” you meekly whisper. The word comes out of your mouth before your sex-inebriated mind can comprehend what he actually said. Once it does, you gulp.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl. Stay still.” Blinded by bliss, Tom pulls from you and with his size, it’s a feeling equivalent to an orgasm in itself and you hiss. Your pussy is hot, swollen, pulsing and leaking and yet somehow, as evident as it is for how sensitive it is, Tom can’t resist one more taste. The knife clatters to the ground. Salvation.
“No, no, no, no, it’s too much, Tom, please, I’m begging you.” The words drip with a desperation you don’t recognise. He simply hushes you, kneels behind you, splits you apart and continues to savour the taste of your arousal, meticulously circling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves once again. The warm, wet muscle glides from entrance to clit, cleaning you up of your wetness and replacing it with his own. For as excruciating as it is to endure so soon after an orgasm, you find yourself melting into the feeling and dizziness envelopes you in a warm hug.
~~~~
“Tell me the time,” he murmurs, turning you around.
Your eyes peer to the clock. “Fuck, it’s…it’s 4:29am. When does this place close?”
Tom sniggers, floating over you with a smirk. “It closed an hour and a half ago.”
“What?! Why am I still here?”
“I’m the owner of this place. I decide who gets to stay and I promised you an experience did I not?”
“You did,” you agree quietly. The slight stickiness between your thighs bears a reminder of the experience and suddenly you’re burning again. You bite your lip, trying to contain the coy giggle like a teenager with a crush. “Some experience that was.”
“Sweetheart, that was child’s play,” he laughs.
“What?”
He pulls you close, skin to skin, soothing out your muscles in a gentle massage. “You didn’t actually think I was going to show you everything, did you?”
Would it be stupid of you to admit that you did? “I don’t know, you did say--”
“That I would give you an experience. Something new, something outside your comfort zone, something you hadn’t done before, an adventure.”
“But--” But the paddles, the chains, the whips, all the things you saw outside…
Not another word lets slip before he cups your cheeks, holding your stare and wordlessly silencing you. “If I had shown you everything, there would be no incentive for you to come back again now would there?” You shake your head. “While you may think I’m a sadist, there are some things within BDSM that newbies like you just can’t be thrown into. Trust me. I wouldn’t put you through that. At least, not yet.”
“Like what? Tell me, I wanna know.”
Tom’s lip curls. He’ll definitely be seeing you around here soon enough given you’re so invested. “Voyeurism, roleplay, flogging, bondage, anal, wax play, primal, orgies, consensual non-consent--”
Your brain fumbles over his words. “Wait what? What’s that?”
The way his eyes lit up so brightly. He brings you closer to brush his nose against yours. “Consensual non-consent or CNC. A fetish where people enjoy being either the victim with the extreme lack of control or the predator with extreme control. Sometimes called rape play--” your eyes widen, “--but it is thoroughly negotiated beforehand and varies from scene to scene. Consent, as well as safe words, are vital. But for some people, verbally communicating consent takes away from the mood. To overcome that, they assign consent to an object. It would be agreed beforehand, could be a red scrunchie that you tie in your hair. If you came here one night wearing a red scrunchie, I would know that you would consent to me taking control over you. Perhaps drag you away against your will, take you somewhere where no one would see, make you get on your knees, suck my cock…” his voice reduces to a whisper and lets you feel his words on your lips. “Would do things to you…”
“Oh…”
Tom sighs, pulling away and composing himself. “For another time.” He winks. “But for now, you need to clean up. There’s a bathroom through that door. Feel free.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.”
~~~~
You don’t emerge from your bedroom until early afternoon the next day. In your true stubborn nature, you do anything you can to prolong the confrontation with Danny. He knows what prevailed between you and Tom, and munching away at a bowl of cereal, you find him smirking at the breakfast bar. All because he knows he was right, he knows that bringing you to the Hunting Ground was the ideal thing for you. You can’t deny him of it.
His eyes find the bite mark on your neck first, bruised and marked. Then to the large T-shirt that he’s certain isn’t yours. The memory of Tom dressing you in it last night has your heart thrashing against your ribs.
“So how did the kinky-cultish-sex club turn out for you?” He grins, a smile stolen from the Cheshire cat.
You click your tongue, deliberating the two ways you could go about this. Against your better character, you grin back at him, colour rushing to your cheeks.
“When can we go back?”
#ive been reading a lot of spicy books recently so this is why this exists#this is foul#knife play??? who am i#truly foul#tom holland#tom holland smut#tom holland fic#tom holland x reader#tom holland imagine#smut#dom!tom holland#sub!bratty!reader#tom holland x you#the hunting ground#peter parker#dark!tom holland
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bunny | peter parker !
¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !
word count: 10.9k
synopsis: Peter Parker has been your best friend for years. After you develop a relationship with somebody else, you see a side of him you've never seen before.
content warnings: RAPE/NONCON, blood, dark!peter parker, plus size!reader, negative self talk, insecurities, slow burn, implied stalking, oral (f! receiving), slapping, degradation, spit, unproteced sex, creampie, lmk if i missed any
¡ marvel masterlist !
You were sixteen when you met Peter Parker.
He had shyly approached you, a blush high on his cheeks as he handed you a stack of papers. Confused, you simply stared at them, eyebrows cinched and lips slightly down-turned.
You were well aware of who Peter Parker was. He was a member of the Midtown Academic Decathlon team that you were also part of; though you never directly interacted it’s him due to your nerves. He seemed kind, he was lanky and a little geeky, making him the butt of a lot of jokes. Much like you were. For opposite reasons, of course.
You were often teased and ridiculed for your size. You were heavier and much curvier than other girls your age. You had a puffy face and a matching plump body, most people couldn’t look past that. So, to say the least, you weren’t very popular.
Peter Parker knew all about you. He had been watching you since your freshman year. He was mesmerized when first laid eyes on you. He swears he had never seen a more beautiful sight than you, taking little, shy steps like you were afraid to make your presence known. Your hair was done in the way he would grow to like best, and you wore a pretty blue plaid skirt and a white sweater. The skirt was a tad too long and he could sense your discomfort as you tugged it down even further. He remembers staring at you as you looked around with unfamiliarity and slight fear in your eyes. The innocence in your eyes was also hard to miss. You held textbooks to your chest, in an attempt to conceal your tummy. He watched as you stood alone, your cute nose making slight movements as you stood. Your nose wiggled like a little bunny. He felt the desire to protect you, keep you next to him and out of harm’s way. He regrets not approaching you that day. It would have saved you from a lonely year.
“I was told to give these to you,” he said silently, “I heard you missed a few days.”
“Oh,” you breathed, taking them from him, your chubby hands looking silly against his thin, veiny ones. Peter thought they looked perfect together. “Thank you, Peter,” you said, quickly pulling your hands away and hiding them behind your back when you saw his gaze on them.
His eyes lingered on where your hand was against his before he looked up at you and gave you a bright smile, “no problem.”
Peter walked you to your class after that, taking the empty seat beside you and discussing the subject matter with you. And to your surprise, he followed you to your next class, and the next, and the next. By the end of the day, you were quite fond of the boy. He was a lot kinder than you’d imagined, he even promised to see you the following morning for breakfast with Ned and MJ. Of course, you tried to decline but he wouldn’t let you leave without the promise of arriving on time.
This was years ago and your friendship had only gotten stronger.
Being friends with Peter was refreshing and comforting. He wasn’t like the other guys you’d met in university. He didn’t have any ulterior motives nor did he fetishize you. He did not attempt to coerce you or manipulate you into getting what he wants because you owed it to him. No, Peter would never do that.
Peter was actually the one to look after you, he made you aware of what those who sought you were really after. They want to take advantage of you, bunny, he’d said several times. They want to ruin you. He would never elaborate on what he meant when he said that and you didn’t like to pry. He just had a good judge of character is all.
Of course, Ned and MJ were your friends too and they were very nice to you as well, but you always felt that they were only acquainted with you for Peter’s sake. You never hung out with them without Peter present but you tried not to let it bother you.
Your goal for the year was to acquire your own circle of friends, and maybe even get a boyfriend after being single your entire life. Peter had a few girlfriends here and there, though nothing was ever serious. You couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of him, he had grown to be quite attractive, making it easy for him to make connections.
He had lost the baby fat on his cheeks, his jaw was now angular and his strong bone structure was one of his most prominent features on top of his big, brown eyes and muscular body. He was muscular in a lean way, a way that isn’t entirely noticeable under the sweaters he always wore.
Today Peter sat across from you, latte in hand as he basked in the morning sun. His tight black shirt highlighted his muscular arms and chest, you caught yourself staring as you sometimes did when he ditched the ill-fitting clothing. His chocolate brown curls framed his face beautifully, looking golden where they met the sun. His lips, colored like pink peonies, rested with the slightest pout.
You sipped your London fog, squinting as you looked up in search of the singing bird in the tree above your head. You caught sight of it. The creature’s delicate red feathers looked like fire in the golden sky as it flew away. Your stare fell on Peter again, “our 8 AM lecture was canceled today.”
Peter hummed, not moving from his previous state, “I know.”
You huffed, “why’re we here, then?” you set your cup down, “it’s way too early. We, no I, should be in bed.”
Peter’s lips quirked up into a smile, “I wanted to hang out.”
“At six-thirty A.M.? We could’ve hung out at a more reasonable hour, like, I don’t know, eleven,” you began ranting and you saw one of Peter’s eyes open slightly. “Or maybe twelve, we could’ve gotten breakfast or… or brunch!”
“You never eat breakfast,” he said, swinging his head forward, eyes now fully open and on you.
“I do…” you claimed, your nose scrunching, lips pouting.
Peter clicked his tongue, “not enough.”
“Well, whatever,” you opted to change the subject before he could continue further.
“We still could’ve met up later. Like I said, brunch.”
“I don’t know,” he began, sitting up all the way now, “I kinda like being out this early. It’s nice and quiet.”
“I guess so,” you murmured, leaning back to rest on your elbows.
Peter watched you, gaze moving from your Mary Jane-clad feet to your pretty hair. You wore a dress today. It was Peter’s favorite dress, not that you knew that. It was a lilac purple color and it had short, puffy sleeves. He liked the way the dress clung to your curves and complimented your skin tone. It was the shortest of all your dresses, so he especially liked the way it rode up your thighs when you sat down, making your pudgy thighs all the more visible to him. He stared at them now, noticing the way the plush fat pooled around you like a sea of soft flesh as you relaxed. He wanted to grab them, bury his face in them and drown in you.
His eyes ran up your body further, over the curve of your tummy and swell of your breasts. The necklace Peter had gifted you last Christmas sat prettily around your neck, resting on your bare chest above the heart-shaped neckline of your dress, rising and falling as you breathed. He stared at it, not noticing when you opened your eyes to look at him.
“Okay?” he heard you ask.
“Mhm,” he replied, tearing his eyes away and giving you a soft smile.
+
The morning had passed rather quickly and you perked up after your second tea of the day. Your last class of the day was your creative writing class. As you strode in, you took your usual seat in the front of the room, setting your things down beside you.
Your focus was on the board in front of you when you felt a gush of air on your left. You looked over, catching sight of a tall figure sitting down beside you.
“Hey,” the man exhaled, setting down his things next to yours.
You opened your mouth to respond but you ended up holding your hand up to signal a hello.
The man smiled, “I’m Harry,” he held a hand out for you to shake.
You looked at it, quietly introducing yourself as you took his pale hand. Your touch was featherlight as it took you by surprise when he gripped it tightly with a slight laugh.
Harry was effortlessly charming. He was cute and cool and he had a sharp sense of humor, you learned. But on top of that, he had a contagious smile and a gaze that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. You often caught yourself gazing at him from the corner of your eye trying to be inconspicuous with your staring. He had shiny blonde hair that you thought resembled Peter’s. Only lighter and shorter and straighter and not really like Peter’s at all.
You weren’t sure why your mind had suddenly wandered to Peter. Maybe a part of you wondered what he would think of Harry. Or maybe you were subconsciously comparing them. You weren’t sure.
“Hey, um,” you turned towards Harry who had begun speaking. The class had ended and you were gathering your things. “We should meet up,” he grinned, “maybe at the library?”
You weren’t used to social invitations, much less from men like Harry.
“Does tomorrow at four work for you?”
You nodded, unable to find your voice. You felt blood rush to your face at the look he gave you next. It was like he was trying to figure you out, understand you with a simple glance. Like he was trying to read you like a book.
“Great,” he picked up your bag for you, “looking forward to it.”
+
Peter was laying on your bed when you arrived at your little studio apartment. He was half asleep, strong arms wrapped tightly around your stuffed bunny and surrounded by your assortment of other stuffed animals. He shot up at the sound of the door opening, “hey.”
“Do you ever go home?” you kicked off your shoes and set your bag down. “This place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”
In his mind it was. Just perfect. It kept you close.
“Why would I? You’re such good company, bunny.”
You snorted, “I’m sure that’s the reason and definitely not you trying to get away from Ned and Betty.”
You moved towards your bed, plopping down next to him, adjusting the skirt of your dress that had ridden up when you landed. Peter watched your hands as they rested on your tummy. He could see right down your dress. He could see the white bra hugging your tits, a little bow between the cups.
“What?” you asked, self-consciously moving your hand to your chin.
“Nothing. Don’t do that,” he looked at the ceiling. It bothered Peter when you did things like that. As if you weren’t the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
You simply huffed, “how did you even get in here?”
He motioned toward the open window, “you need to start locking it. One of these days a creep could just come waltzing in and you’d have no idea.”
“A creep like you,” you joked with a breathy laugh. You tore your stuffed bunny from his arms.
“Worse,” he said lazily.
Silence filled the room for a few seconds as Peter began to doze off again.
“I met this guy in class today.”
Peter was suddenly very awake. “Oh,” a pause, “who?”
“He said his name is Harry, I don’t know his last name but he was very nice.” You sounded excited, “we’re meeting up at the library tomorrow to study and get some work done.”
Get some work done. Sure, that’s what you were gonna do. Peter knew better than that. You didn’t, of course. That’s why you were so lucky to have Peter with you, by your side, protecting you from evil college guys who just wanted to get under your skirt. They wouldn’t have a clue what to do to you. How to make you feel good and have you purring sweetly in their ears…
“So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break into my home.”
“Huh?”
You gave him an unamused look, “you weren’t listening.”
He grinned, “I’m always listening.”
You rolled your eyes, “I said, don’t come by just in case we come back here.”
Peter furrowed his brows in disgust. What business would he have coming back to your apartment if you were just going to study? Did he ask you if he could come over?
“Why would you do that?”
You shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t know…”
Peter felt sick.
“We should do something else instead. There’s a new Vietnamese place not far from here. MJ says they have really good pho.”
“Peter…” you started. He knew you were going to say no. You rarely said no to him. “How about Friday? We can get takeout and come back here and watch movies. Your pick.”
His first mistake was looking over at you. Your chubby cheeks and pretty lips pulled up into a sweet smile. Your eyes were pleading, please say yes, please say yes. His second mistake was giving in.
“Fine.”
+
Peter left your apartment shortly after that. You had spent the rest of the night going over the conversation trying to figure out where you went wrong. He seemed upset as he hugged you goodbye. His brown eyes didn’t hold the same warmth they always did. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to replace him. But that wouldn’t make any sense. You only just met Harry. You didn’t know anything about him besides his first name.
“Hey!” Harry called a tad too loudly for the library. He stood from his seat, waving you over.
In all honesty, you didn’t expect him to be there. It was a little before four and you had arrived with low expectations. Though this was only intended to be a study session and nothing more, Harry was a very attractive man. He was funny and charming and extroverted and you… were none of those things.
“Hi,” you mumbled as you neared the table he was seated at. It was in the far corner, furthest away from the librarian. Or any of the other stressed university students.
“I chose this table so we won’t have to whisper,” he smiled, patting the open seat beside him.
His eagerness made you blush. “Good idea,” your voice was still small.
He chuckled, “thanks,” he dramatically whispered.
You blushed further, “sorry.”
The both of you were silent as you took out your laptops.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for some time now,” he started. “I read one of your pieces when the semester started and I really enjoyed it. You’re a phenomenal writer.”
“Really?” he appeared nonchalant as he typed in his password. As if he hadn’t just given you the kindest compliment you had ever received.
“Yeah, it’s so obvious how passionate you are. I mean every time I look at you, you look so entranced by the books you read or by the professor or your work.”
He looked at you?
“Oh,” your face felt warmer, “um, thank you.”
He smiled at you, “no problem, it’s true.”
You felt butterflies in your tummy and you began to log into your laptop to avoid looking at him.
You began to work in silence, hyper-aware of every time Harry leaned in close to you, reading your story as you typed. He smelled of musk and vanilla. His head of blonde locks tickled your ear.
Eventually, you presumed he grew bored as he shut his laptop and turned to face you in his chair. You attempted to ignore him but your typing began to slow and your focus was only on the boy beside you.
You gave him a faux look of annoyance, “I thought we were here to study.”
“We are,” he propped his head up on his hand that rested on the table. “To study and get to know each other.”
Get to know each other.
That was unexpected.
You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted in your tummy, “Oh, okay, yeah.”
Surprisingly, you had a decent amount in common with Harry. Of course, not overly so. Not like you and Peter. But this is a good thing. You’re making your own friends.
+
“Oh, he’s so lovely, Pete!” you gushed, your nose wiggling as you spoke.
“Mhm,” Peter watched you with a strange look, mouth full of boba pearls, “you’ve mentioned that.”
You gave him a smile that normally would have made him turn to mush. Only this time, it didn’t. Had you smiled at Harry like that?
“I’m excited!” you waved your hands in the air, “I’m making my own friends, Pete. I’m an independent woman now.”
He rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his tea, “good. Good for you.” He couldn’t help the bitter feeling that rested in the pit of his stomach.
Independent. You had made a single “friend” (Peter didn’t even want to think about that. He knew Harry was just using you, that’s not what friends do. You shouldn’t throw that term around like that. He was your friend. Peter was your friend.) and you already pegged yourself as independent. He could laugh in your face. You were far too pure to face the world without him by your side. Like hell you were independent.
You pouted, your eyes searching for his, “are you angry with me?”
Angry? Why would he be angry? Because you hadn’t shown at your arranged time? Because the reason you were late was that you wanted to squeeze in an extra “study date” with Harry? No, he wasn’t angry. Not at you anyway.
“Of course not, bunny. Could never be.”
It was true, he wasn’t necessarily angry, he was more so slightly bothered by what you had done. That’s how it usually was. You would do something that Peter did not agree with but he would never be angry. Just mildly annoyed. He couldn’t be angry with his sweet little bunny. You probably didn’t even know the consequences of your actions. He couldn’t blame you for that.
You smiled, leaning in to hug him. Peter was immediately enveloped in warmth, your soft body melding with his. The sweet scent of lavender and honey was all around him. Your hair tickled his neck where you buried your face. You were on your knees on the couch, allowing Peter a view of your backside covered in your loungewear.
He loved your hugs. They always succeed in lifting his spirits and making him a little dizzy. You were just so warm and soft and perfect for him.
You pulled away, still smiling as you sunk back into your spot on your tiny, tiny couch and pulled your tea to your lips.
He let himself watch as you wrapped your lovely mouth around the straw. A minuscule puddle of milk tea formed on your bottom lip, and you licked it up as you removed the straw. Your tongue was wet and a delightful shade of pink as you slid it across the expanse of your lip.
He felt a throb in his sweatpants. Shifting, he asked, “so, what else did you do today?”
You hummed, chewing the balls of boba in your mouth, “that’s all. Just hung out with Harry. We have a lot more in common than I thought,” you giggled. “We just don’t run out of things to talk about.”
He inhaled, feeling himself go soft, “that’s a lot of talking in the library.”
“Oh, we didn’t go to the library,” you shook your head.
He gave you a look, “where did you go?”
You looked hesitant, “um, we went to his flat. It was nearby and he had forgotten his books, so it was easier to stay there.”
How convenient.
“Bunny,” Peter started.
You had a guilty look on your face as you stared at him, “I know,” your voice was small, “not safe. I know… but he’s not like the other guys Pete. He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“How can you be so sure, hm? You’re in no way prepared to protect yourself. What if he had done something to you? What would you have done?”
“He wouldn’t…” you looked down, “he wouldn’t do anything.” You bit your lip as you nervously whispered, “I think he likes me.”
Peter could hardly hear you. He was sure he hadn’t heard correctly because of how softly you spoke. “Speak up, bunny. I can’t hear you.”
“I said I think he likes me,” you said a little louder. He could see the embarrassment on your face. Like you couldn’t believe you had said that out loud.
Peter swallowed, “oh.”
There was a pause, “what makes you think that?”
“Well,” your nose fluttered, “he said he’s never met anyone like me. And he,” you glanced up at him before returning your gaze to your lap, “he tried to kiss me.”
Oh.
Peter didn’t know how to react. He stared at your pretty eyes with his brows cinched and an analyzing gaze. The first thought to pop into his was: did you kiss him? Then: did you want to kiss him?
“Oh,” he managed to say, “did you?”
You inhaled, “um, no…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. “I couldn’t.”
Good. He doesn’t deserve to feel your lips. He doesn’t deserve your first kiss.
“I don’t know how,” you looked up at him. Your eyes looked glassy and you had a look of embarrassment on your face.
It should have been obvious. Peter did keep any potential love interest as far from you as you could manage, yet he was still flustered.
He hummed, feeling blood rush to his groin, “you don’t?”
You shook your head, “no… never learned how.”
Your lips looked so pretty as you pouted, shame present on your face. Peter wanted to reach over, pull you in close, and kiss you softly. He wanted to run his hands through your hair and up your soft curves. To hear your lovely noises as you gave into him.
He grimaced as the image of Harry’s dirty lips inching closer to yours. Your pure, innocent mouth being tainted by his filthy one. He could have that. What else would he make you do?
He could only imagine your gasp of surprise, your inexperienced movements, your sugary taste. But you were sitting right in front of him, weren’t you? You had enough confidence in him that you would even confess such a thing. He was obligated to help you, wasn’t he? You’re essentially asking for help, right?
“I could,” he paused, unsure, “I could teach you.”
“Really?” You straightened your back a tad, eyes widening at the offer.
You trusted him so much. After all these years that you’d known him, Peter had never once misled you in any way shape, or form. He was the person you trusted most because you knew he had your best interest in mind. He was your best friend. He was there to keep you safe.
“Mhm,” he moved a little closer, “if you’d want that, I can.”
You nodded eagerly, “yes, Peter, please.”
Yes, Peter, please…
You sat still as Peter invaded your space.
He licked his lips, you reluctantly placed one hand on your thigh, and the other reaching up to cup your chubby face. The warmth of your being was seeping into him so deep he felt warmer than he ever had.
You looked at him expectantly, your glassy gaze flickering from his honey brown eyes to his lips.
“Are you ready?” He whispered, mouth mere inches from yours.
You inhaled, “yes, Peter. I wanna be good for Harry.”
He ignored the pang in his chest, “well, you have to be good for me first, bunny.”
You nodded, fluttering your eyes shut. He watched you for a second. Your nose wiggled faintly as you breathed and you sat patiently waiting with your pouty lips puckered up slightly.
He was able to see it all this close to you. All of your imperfections that he never had the privilege of noticing before. It only made him long for you more.
Peter ignored the thought in his head that said if he knew you’d give in to him so easily under the pretense of teaching you, he would’ve offered his services much earlier.
He leaned in, hovering just before your lips, eyeing how your eyebrows furrowed and your lips extended further. But not a single complaint about Peter’s excruciatingly slow pace because he knows best, and he knew you knew that.
He could feel your shaky exhales on his skin as he finally connected your lips. He felt himself twitch, once, twice, at the sheer feeling of your lips pressed against his. It was harder to refrain from going further - maybe a hand up your thigh, up to your belly and to your tits, maybe wrap them around your neck…
He felt your face contort as he began to finally move his mouth against yours, your kisses were as sloppy as he’d imagined them to be. And he was correct, your inexperience made him painfully hard. He reluctantly removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on his bulge. He just couldn’t resist. You let out a high shaky breath as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting you.
Peter could taste the remnants of your milk tea on your tongue. You attempted to mirror his movements and he felt another throb at your feeble efforts.
He rubbed his hand onto his hard cock to resist the urge to do something completely inappropriate like take your hand to place it on his thigh to get him even closer to his release. He didn’t believe it would take much at all for him to cum. Your mouth moving against his was more than enough.
You began to get the hang of it and it somehow made Peter’s erection even more painful. His hips involuntarily jerked as you wrapped your arms up around his neck, tugging him close. Your thigh brushed against his cock, and he sighed. You gasped, your tongue halting its sloppy movements.
He could feel you pulling back and he chased your lips, pushing into you and not permitting you to disconnect your mouths. You leaned back against the arm of the small couch in your attempt to pull away from your best friend’s lips. Peter followed you, body against yours. His cock sat on your thigh and he hoped you couldn’t feel it twitch.
As his hips made small movements, grinding into your thigh. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your head, keeping you against him, while the other felt up your sides, resting below your tits. You let out a whiny sound as you began to kiss him back again.
Peter’s thrusts became more erratic as he drew closer and closer to the edge. He felt your thigh tense and your hips lifted off the couch, pushing into his lower abdomen. Your arms tightened around his neck.
Your kisses were still messy, you used far too much tongue and had little technique but Peter had never had a better kiss. He came abruptly when you moaned into his mouth again, hand pulling on the hair at the name of his neck. He pulled away from you and groaned, out of breath into your shoulder as he steadied himself.
“Pete,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so eager.”
Peter was taken aback. He didn’t respond as he regained his composure into your warm shoulder, inhaling your scent. His cock was slowly going soft but the proximity to you made him believe that it would shoot back up with any movement you made.
“I just,” a pause, “I guess I got a little carried away.”
It baffled Peter that you thought any of what happened had been your fault. As if he didn’t invade your space and force your head into place so he could get himself off.
“It’s okay, bunny.”
You buried your head into his shoulder and there was no sign of parting for a while. Peter only pulled away when he felt his hot cum seeping through his pants in a wet puddle. His movements were quick when he grabbed a throw pillow and threw it over his lap.
“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
+
You had spent an increasing amount of time with Harry over the last few weeks. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you’d thought he’d have grown bored of you by now. But it seemed the opposite. He texted you often, smiled at you in a way that made you feel warm and special, and he seemed genuinely interested and excited to speak to you. You hadn’t felt that way since you met Peter.
It had been the only thing on your mind for the last week. Well, that and your mess of a friendship with Peter Parker.
After the kiss shared with Peter, you had spent less time with him. On top of plans with Harry, you felt guilty for how you acted. You felt that you had taken advantage of him and his kindness. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and in a way uncomfortable around Peter now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, it was yours. And he deserved better.
You began to ignore his calls and texts and you took different routes to and from your classes. You even stopped replying to Ned and MJ after they began questioning where you’d run off to. In a way that comment made you feel a little ridiculous. It was like they expected Peter to be dragging you around on a leash. Like you were his little pet or something of the like.
That wasn’t Peter’s fault though. You didn’t believe anything was. Peter was a saint in your eyes. Your savior of a life of solace. That’s why you felt the worst you ever had about locking your window.
The first night, you had pretended to be asleep when you heard light taps on the glass. You closed your eyes and ignored the noise, waiting for what felt like hours to move again.
Now, almost two weeks later, you had finally been confronted.
Peter looked at you in a way you had never seen and couldn’t decipher. His lips were pulled in a tight line and his forehead and eyebrows were creased, his eyes looked darker and his gaze was hard and they held a different feeling. Even the air around him felt different, it was cold and suffocating.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Hm? Oh, no, no, Pete m’not-“
“You are.”
You opened your mouth to speak but your words were caught in your throat. You were avoiding him.
“Why? Did I do something to upset you?”
“No,” you took a deep breath, “I’ve just been busy-“
“Busy? With what? Osborn? He keeps you so busy that you can’t even respond to my texts?”
You felt your lip quiver and your eyes welled up with tears at his tone and his unwavering stare. Peter had never reacted this way towards you. You didn’t even know he could speak that way.
You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you looked down at your feet and attempted to blink away your tears.
Peter looked down at you, waiting for you to say something, anything. He wanted - no, he expected an apology. He had been restless the past few weeks, waiting for you to respond to him. He had been following you around as New York’s friendly neighbor Spider-Man, so he was well aware of what you were up to. He watched as you found new routes to your home, hid away in obscure places, and, of course, he watched your giddy expression as Harry Osborn gripped your hand or your waist and walked around with you on his arm as if he owned you.
It didn’t help that Peter had seen you locking your window. Double-checking, triple checking that you had locked it, and then periodically again throughout the day. At first, Peter suspected that you had known he got off on your thigh that day, that you were creeped out or disgusted by him.
“So? What is it? Why have you been avoiding me?”
You sniffled and Peter surprised himself when he didn’t soften at the noise. He didn’t feel the usual tighten of his heart nor did his stare at you become less intense. He wanted you to feel like this. It made it feel a sort of power having you vulnerable in front of him, for him.
“Y/N, I’m speaking to you. I expect an answer. Did you lose your ability to speak to me when you started fooling around with Osborn? Neglecting me? Neglecting our friendship? Does it mean so little to you?”
Tears started falling from your eyes at the sound of your name. Peter never called you that. You were his bunny, his best friend. You covered your face with your hands in shame. You weakly shook your head.
“So you can’t speak, hm?”
Peter could think of a few ways to get you to start talking. Many scenarios to get your pretty mouth moving.
Peter had thought a lot about you recently, somehow even more than normal. His thoughts had turned alarmingly crude the more time you spent away from him. What was once an innocent daydream of kissing your lips turned into a filthy, sordid fantasy of flipping your skirt and fucking you over the table in the library where you studied with Harry.
Flashes of your mouth and body were intrusive thoughts and the feeling of them on him lingered. They left him unable to focus on patrolling, ultimately leading to him jacking off on the roof of the building across the street from your apartment. Some days, he was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your bare legs through cracks in your sheer white curtains.
“M’sorry Peter,” you peered up at him through teary lashes, “didn’t mean to make you sad.”
He clicked his tongue, “well, you did.”
You let out a sob as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your face into his chest. His heart rate kept its steady pace and Peter stood still for a few seconds. Would he forgive you, no, could he forgive you so easily?
He focused on your warmth around him and he felt his walls lower. He begrudgingly hugged you back, taking in the feel of your curves under his fingers. He sighed, “it’s okay, bunny. Don’t cry.”
You wanted to cry harder. Normally, Peter would be cradling your face, wiping your tears, and pulling you close, enveloping you in his warmth. It was nothing like his tight grip and cold demeanor he currently had. You hadn’t meant to upset him so much but you just felt so guilty for possibly crossing or blurring the lines of your friendship.
Peter knew he would give into you. The way you whimpered and cried into his chest made his heart feel heavy. He began to rub your back and he placed a kiss on your head. Your arms tightened around him.
“C’mon, bunny. It’s okay, we’re okay.”
You whimpered again, doing all you could to collect yourself. Peter held you tightly until you lifted your head.
Your face was red and puffy, wet with your tears and your eyeliner was smudged at the corners of your bloodshot eyes. Your lips were slightly opened as you breathed through your mouth. Your nose was runny and you sniffled, nose wiggling. Peter felt his pants tighten. You looked so wrecked and it was all for him. Because he was upset with you. He had that power over you.
“Are you okay?” concern filled his face.
“Mhm,” you said, shakily smiling. “Missed you.”
He smiled at you and you felt the warmth return, “I missed you more, bun. Should we catch up?”
You nodded frantically, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of your apartment.
+
Things had since gotten much better. You were in Peter’s grasp once more and Harry Osborn had been moved to the backburner.
You sighed as you switched your kettle on for a cup of tea. Peter was busy and you were stuck at home alone again. You were bored beyond belief as your eyes flickered from your TV to the warming kettle. Your foot tapped on the ground and you all but ran to your phone when the familiar ping came from it.
Your eyes widened and excitement erupted in your belly. Harry had sent you a message.
hey stranger… u around?
You contemplated an answer. A part of you felt you shouldn’t respond but another was happy to hear from him.
Maybe
The response was instantaneous.
meet me at the bar
You smiled, rushing to your closet.
After making up with Peter you had begun to neglect your friendship with Harry. You were so focused on keeping Peter happy with you. This had become an increasingly difficult task that required a lot of time and attention.
Peter was easily bothered with you now. His patience would run thin and he would turn cold in the blink of an eye. You had spent nights crying, wishing you hadn’t ruined your most important friendship. But none of that stopped you from trying.
You knew Peter didn’t like Harry, that was obvious. He’d roll his eyes and stare blankly at you with an expression of disappointment you had seen so much of recently whenever you would mention him in conversation. He made sure to remind you that Harry was just like other boys who wanted to take advantage of you and hurt you but he said nothing more.
As you walked into the cafe, Harry waved his arms in the air. You smiled, a blush forming as you took a seat across from him. He looked happy to see you, and he told you that.
“I missed you, y’know,” he looked down, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Haven’t seen much of you recently.”
“Me too, um, sorry about that. I’ve been a little, um, busy.”
He looked up with a shy grin, “s’okay, I’m happy you’re here now.” You were slightly taken aback by his shyness.
He paused, licking his lips and taking a deep breath, “so, Y/N, I’ve been thinking…”
Oh no, here it goes. He’s gonna tell you that he can’t see you anymore. That he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”
Your heart stopped, a date? You had never been on a date before. “A date?”
He cleared his throat, looking nervous, “uh, yeah. It’s just, that I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I missed you so much the last few weeks. So I thought I’d finally ask.”
You exhaled, trying to process his question. “Yes, I’d love to,” you said, face warm and bashful smile.
+
It was cold outside as you walked back to your apartment. Harry had offered to drive you home but you declined, wanting some time alone to think.
Your mind was racing as you turned into the alleyway before your apartment. You were going on a date with Harry Osborn. What would you wear? What would you talk about? What would you tell Peter?
You sighed, glancing around the dark alley. There was a spider web hanging from a pipe a few steps ahead of you. You began to walk a little faster. If Spider-Man was around there was likely some sort of criminal activity. Hopefully, it wasn’t too close to home.
As you rushed into your apartment, you didn’t bother turning on the lights. You shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, sighing deeply as you plopped down onto your bed.
“Where were you?”
Your eyes darted to the source of the noise. The streetlight peering in through the window illuminated him just a tad, barely enough to see his face. But it didn’t matter, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.
“Peter? How did you get in here?” You distinctly remember closing the window, locking it, and double-checking before walking out the door.
“You were out with Harry. I saw you.”
“Oh, um,” you sat up and pulled your dress down, “W-we were just getting a drink.”
He inhaled deeply and hummed, “just getting a drink.” He let out a dark laugh, “sure you were.”
“We,” you paused, “we were. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Peter scoffed, “and that’s why you agreed to go on a date with him, hm?”
You opened your mouth to speak but he didn’t let you.
“I thought we’d gotten past this, bunny.” Peter tapped his foot. Did you feel like you didn’t need him anymore? After all, he’d done for you? All these years by your side and you abandon him for the first man who gives you the time of day.
“Why don’t you listen to me? I only want what’s best for you. For us.”
You stayed quiet, looking down at your frilly, white socks. Peter sighed and you heard him rise from his spot on the couch. He lifted your chin with his cold fingers. His eyes looked dark again and the darkness of your room added to the eerie feel of him. He leaned down, fingers light on your chin as he drew closer to your lips. You turned your face away before he could connect your mouths.
What was he doing?
He scoffed quietly as his hold on your face tightened and forced your face to its previous position. You furrowed your brows as you tried to turn away again.
“Pete, what are you doing?”
“I’m tired of you treating me this way. I deserve better after all I’ve done for you. All these years I have been there for you. I made sure you were okay and I loved you through it all.”
He loved you? You didn’t like the sound of that. Peter was your best friend and nothing more and you dreaded the possibility that he could think of you as something more than that.
“I know that,” you whispered, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
A tiny smile graced his lips.
You returned it, “and I love you too Peter, you’re my best friend.”
His grip on your chin turned painful.
Best friend.
He laughed darkly as he shook his head slightly, “best friend.” He smiled.
Feeling uneasy you smiled softly at him, forcing out a giggle.
His smile fell, “bunny, I love you. I want to be with you. I want you to be mine.”
You gulped, “um,” you looked down, “Peter, I don’t, I don’t feel that way about you.”
“Why? Because of Harry? Because you have ‘choices’ now, hm? I’m not good enough for you?”
You stayed quiet, trying to steady your breathing to keep yourself from crying as Peter used his free hand to move up your arm to your shoulder, holding it forcefully.
You didn’t even know Peter was remotely interested in you. The entire confession made you feel sick to your stomach. While you hadn’t known, the revelation didn’t change the fact that, to you, he was just a friend. This had nothing to do with Harry and his romantic interest in you.
“No, Peter, I just, I’m sorry. I don’t like you like that,” you looked down and spoke so softly you doubted he could hear you.
He scoffed, letting go of your chin and shoulder with a push. You steadied yourself, looking up to see him pacing around the room. You wanted to ask him to leave, but before you could he turned to you again.
“He could never treat you like I do.”
“Peter…”
“No! He couldn’t. I know deep down you know that. He wouldn’t know what to do with a pretty girl like you.”
You shifted uncomfortably.
Peter watched as you fiddled with the hem of your dress. It was the purple one again, his favorite. Harry would never be able to satisfy you the way he would. He just needs to find a way to let you know that. No, he has shown you. Everything he had done since you met should have shown you. You were just… ungrateful. He needed to let you know that you couldn’t get away from him. There was no one else that could love you as he could.
Your heartbeat sped up as Peter took long strides toward you.
“He doesn’t deserve you like I do,” he shoved his knee between your own and forced them open just enough to fit his leg between them. “And I’m gonna show you, that only I know how to treat you. I know what you deserve and I can give it to you.”
You were confused and scared, you watched him cautiously as he stood before you.
His hand reached for your hair, he touched it lightly. You let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know what he was about to do. You weren’t sure what he was capable of anymore.
His fingers caressed your face, giving your chubby cheeks a light squeeze as he moved his hand down to your neck. You let out a shaky breath as his hands ghosted over your throat.
“Peter,” you whispered, “what are you doing?”
He smiled, “I’m gonna make you mine, bunny.”
You felt your lip quiver and you hesitantly pushed his chest, trying to get him away from you. “No, Peter. I don’t want this.”
His hands tightened around your neck, “you don’t know what you want. You’re just a dumb bunny. You don’t know what is good for you. I do.”
Tears welled in your eyes as he leaned down to leave wet kisses on your cheeks and jaw, his hands on your throat.
You moved your face away, side to side, avoiding his lips. His grip cut off your airways as he gave you a shake, “stop.” He pushed you onto your back, attacking you with kisses.
Tears fell from your eyes as you tried to push him back. You should’ve been able to, even if it was just a little. But he didn’t budge. Your legs kicked his own trying to get him off. He acted like you hadn’t touched him at all. You bit down on his tongue as it forced its way into your mouth, he pulled back in surprise. You took the opportunity to wiggle out from under him, moving as fast as you could towards the door.
Peter’s temper was running thin. With quick movements, he activated the web shooter tucked under the sleeve of his plaid shirt.
You barely made it a few steps when you were pulled back. Your eyes went to Peter who was seated on your bed, a cold look on his face. The sight of your hand stuck to the table left you in shock. The sticky substance was too strong for you to pull back. You began to sob as you connected the dots.
Peter was Spider-Man.
You didn’t know how you hadn’t figured it out before. You should’ve known. The random bruises on his body, the overnight strength, and agility, the disappearances, the way he always knew where you were and what you were doing… it should’ve been obvious.
“Peter, please, let me go,” you cried, using all the strength you could muster to attempt to free your hand.
He stood from the bed and took slow steps to where you stood. “You’re my little bunny, and you’re not going anywhere until you realize that.”
As he worked to free your hand you took the other and impulsively delivered a harsh slap to his cheek. Peter didn’t react right away. He kept his eyes on your hand for a few seconds before glancing up.
“Ungrateful little bitch.”
You inhaled, trying to stare at him with the same venom that he did you. He continued to free your hand, sliding the little knife across your thumb, slicing it. You hissed in pain.
You were so confused, this man was nothing like the Peter Parker you knew and loved. This man was pure evil and you wanted to get as far away from him as you possibly could.
Peter stared at you in disbelief. Could you not see that he was only trying to give you the best? He had to make you see it even if it meant by force. He looked into your eyes filled with fear, tearing threatening to fall and your lip quivering. He wanted you so bad and he was finally going to have you.
Peter looked down, watching the slow drops build on your fingertip before falling onto the counter. Your hand was barely trembling and he softened immediately. He hadn’t meant to cut you so deep.
“I’m sorry, bunny. Are you okay?”
His change in demeanor puzzled you, he had gone from evil to the gentle Peter you knew and loved.
You nodded stupidly, “mhm, hurts just a little, Peter.”
“Aw, bunny,” he said softly, taking your sticky hand and bringing it to his lips.
His tender touch had you in his grasp again, like he hadn’t just assaulted you, screamed at you, cut you.
He placed a soft kiss on your bleeding finger, eyes looking lovingly into yours. You fed into it like you always did. A drop of your blood rested on his bottom lip, and you watched as he licked it up with a swipe of his tongue.
He closed his eyes, relishing in the taste of you on his tongue. His cock twitched and he ached to taste your pretty cunt on his tongue. He wasted no time.
Before you knew it, he was throwing you to the bed with ease, flipping your skirt up. He inhaled deeply, feeling his pants tighten further by the sight of your panties. They were just as cute as you. Just what he imagined you’d wear, yet somehow it was better. Your panties were a pale pink color, little hearts a darker shade of pink littering the fabric. He couldn’t help but stare, taking in the view of your pretty panties covering your perfect, plump ass.
Cries escaped you, pleas for him to just stop. He ignored them, instead of giving your right ass cheek a little slap. He moaned at the cry you made, the way your flesh rippled at the impact.
You had been fooled once again. The Peter Parker you once knew was long gone.
Peter looped his fingers under the delicate fabric, your skin warm, he pulled up roughly. You yelped, arching your back to relieve the pain, but it only gave Peter a better look at your puffy pussy, bulging against the fabric he had pulled.
“Oh,” he cooed, leaning down and placing a kiss on your ass.
Tears pricked at your eyes again, threatening to fall as you tried to rack your brain for ideas on how to get yourself out of the current situation. You gasped at the abrupt feeling of cold air on your cunt. The tears began to fall.
Unable to control himself, Peter placed a sloppy wet kiss on your cunt. You gasped loudly, trying to move your ass away. He held your hips tightly in place, pressing pecks along the entirety of your backside. A strangled moan fell from your lips as he kissed your clit.
Peter stared at your pussy, admiring the wet string of slick that drilled from your little hole. He felt a sense of accomplishment at the drip of slick, he was making you feel good even when you resisted. Extending his tongue from his mouth, he licked up your slit, flicking his tongue as he did so. He moaned at the taste of your sweet juices.
He finally let himself loose, allowing himself to bury his head into your puffy cunt. His hands groped your thighs, kneading them, keeping them apart so he had good access to your cunt.
You tried to hold in your body’s reactions. You held your breath, curled your toes, and turned your hands to fists. But you couldn’t stop a loud mewl as Peter swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud. You bit your lip as you contained sobs.
Your fingers grabbed onto your sheets, squeezing them tightly as you felt yourself becoming more aroused. The lewd sounds from Peter combined with the wet sounds of your pussy. Peter was essentially drooling, strings of spit and slick keeping him attached to you even when he pulled back for air. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.
You felt a coil form in your tummy, tightening with every passing second.
“Are you gonna cum for me, bunny?” Peter asked, his voice deep.
Your body was trembling and your hips unconsciously pressed into his face. You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as your mouth opened involuntarily, a loud cry slipping out as the coil snapped. You shook, your knees going weak as your body was overtaken by the pleasant, but unfamiliar sensation.
Peter groaned into your sopping cunt as he licked up your release. His cock was so hard it was painful, his mindless humping on your sheets wasn’t nearly enough. He held you up when your body gave in, on the verge of going limp as he continued his movements on your pussy long after you had become sensitive.
“Peter, please stop, hurts,” you managed to blubber out.
He pulled away, a string of spit connecting you. He watched as it snapped, falling onto his plaid shirt. He licked his lips, sliding his arms out from under your thighs. Your lower half hit your bed and you were unable to move. Your pussy throbbed from overstimulation as you laid dumbly. Weak little moans falling from your mouth.
Peter reached a hand up to wipe at his face, collected the excess juices, and inserted his fingers into his mouth to consume it. He savored the taste, watching as your body jolted from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The skirt of your dress was scrunched around your waist and your ass was glistening under the streetlights from where he had drooled over it. Your thighs were in the same position they were in when he dropped them. He felt himself twitch, you were too weak to move them.
Harry couldn’t have made you cum like that. He probably would even eat you out. What a waste of a sweet cunt that would be. He could live off your pussy alone he was sure of it.
Peter rested a hand on your lower back as he stood from the bed. You glanced over at him, relieved that he was going to leave you alone. Your tears had stopped and you felt them drying on your cheeks.
When Peter pulled off his plaid shirt and the gray t-shirt under it, you wanted to scream. You wanted to get up and push him out of your apartment. He had just forcefully inflicted oral sex onto you and you were terrified of where he wanted to go next.
You couldn’t help your stare at Peter’s toned body. His defined abdomen and strong arms were illuminated perfectly under the soft light. You wanted to slap yourself as you felt yourself become slightly aroused.
You managed to sit up, slowly and gently seating yourself down. You instinctively reached for your stuffed bunny. You held it to your chest as you watched Peter fiddle with his belt. “Peter,” you called quietly.
Your hair was a mess and you had faint black tracks going down your chubby face. Your lipstick was smudged. Your thick, soft arms were clinging to your bunny. The bunny he had gifted you years ago. Your dress was askew and barely covered your thighs.
“Yes, bunny?” he pulled off his belt.
“Please stop now. I’m sorry I upset you.”
He sighed and simply shook his head. “I helped you, now you need to help me.”
Helped you? You didn’t ask for his help.
“But-”
“Look at what you did, bun,” he pulled off his underwear as he tugged off his pants. His cock sprung free and slapped his stomach. It was big and long and thick, protruding veins ran up its length, leading to an angry red tip. You felt your lip wobble, you weren’t even sure if it would fit. “It hurts and only you can make it feel better. You caused this. It’s your fault that this is happening.”
You weren’t sure what to think. Was this your fault?
“Lay back for me, bunny.” he motioned to the bed. “I need gonna fuck your pretty pussy.”
You shook your head.
Peter rolled his eyes, “do what you're told, stupid bunny. Don’t act like you don’t like it. Couldn’t you feel how wet you were for me?”
You stayed in place. He clenched his jaw and grabbed your ankles, pulling you until your back hit the cushion of your mattress. You tried to kick the hold of his wrists from your feet.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he felt up your thigh, eyeing you in a way that made you feel self-conscious. You felt like prey.
“I always like this dress,” he said, tugging it up your body. Peter pulled your bunny from your arms to pull the material over your head. “It’s my favorite one. Looks so beautiful on you.”
You reached for the bunny to cover yourself but were unable to reach it. You wrapped your arms around your tummy. Peter clicked his tongue, “no.” He leaned down to press kisses over your middle and he pried your hands away for better access. You felt tears brimming.
He pulled your bra off with ease, absentmindedly as he ran his mouth over your skin. You gasped and turned away, refusing to watch. You felt his tongue find your nipple and you hated the way it aroused you. He groaned and you felt his cock against your thighs. He kneaded your breasts as he kissed up your neck. He looked you in the eye as his cock found your cunt, running up and down the slit.
“It’s gonna feel so good, bunny. You’re gonna crave my cock after. You’re gonna realize that no one is better for you than me. Fuck, you’re so warm and soft.”
His cock twitched on your pussy, causing you to inhale shakily.
Peter was so ready to be inside you. The warmth your cunt radiated made his cock ache so bad. He pushed his cock through your fold, watching as your face contorted. Your hole was pulling him in as soon as his cock head reached your entrance. It was like you were made to take him.
Your face had a pained expression painted over it and your hole contracted.
“Relax, bunny. Or it’s gonna hurt a lot more than it needs to. You were doing so well just now.”
He was too big, the further he sank into you, the more it hurt.
He couldn’t resist the involuntary thrust of his hips. You jolted up at the strength of them. As he pulled out he looked down. The sight of your loose tits, belly rolls, and puffy pussy around his cock made him feral. The red coat of blood on his pelvis made him feel a sense of accomplishment. He had you first.
He finally had you. All of you. And he deserved it all after everything he’d done.
Peter forced his way in until he bottomed out. Relishing in the way your tight pussy squeezed him. He knew it hurt from the way you had begun to cry and the way your body shook but he didn’t care. You’d adjust. Soon you’d be a stupid cockwhore. What he always wanted you to be. All for him.
“Ow,” you cried, reaching your hand up to his back, seeking comfort.
“You feel so good,” he moaned.
Peter began a slow pace, pulling out just a little before sliding back in. your nails dug into his back as your head moved side to side, whines, and cries leaving your lips. More and more slick came from your hole as he continued his abuse.
Soon enough his thrusts had gotten faster, harder and your thoughts were few and far between.
Fuck.
I don’t want this.
Feels so good.
Peter’s hands were all over you. Running up your sides, squeezing your soft skin, playing with your clit, and caressing your face as tears fell from your eyes.
You weren’t sure when you had begun to cry or whether it was due to pain or pleasure.
Peter moved his lips to rest on yours, kissing you in sync with his thrusts. You whined, moving your face away, “no, stop.”
His hand that rested on your bouncing tits delivered a quick, harsh slap to your cheek. You cried out, tears falling faster. Peter pinched your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You opened your eyes, watching as he spit into your mouth, a string of spit lingering. You clenched around him.
Peter chuckled, “you liked that. Dirty slut.”
You had stopped fighting him, too caught up in the feeling of his cock in your cunt. Peter knew you would. He knew you loved him, too.
He fit so perfectly inside you like you were meant for him.
A string of “Hm, uh, uh's” and breathy high-pitched noises fell from your lips with every thrust Peter made. The noises harmonized with the squelching sounds of your wet pussy. It was music to Peter’s ears. The prettiest noises he had ever heard.
Soon, you felt a coil in your belly. It snapped a part of you back into reality, while the other was dumb at the feel of Peter’s cock.
“Peter, hm, Peter, uh stop, m’gonna-”
Peter shushed you, sloppily kissing your neck, “cum for me.”
You were lightheaded, the feeling was too good. Peter suckled at your soft spot and you felt yourself cum with a high whine. Your orgasm was more intense this time. Your mind was blank as tears poured from your eyes and your body tensed. Your back arched off the mattress and you scratched down Peter’s back, holding him close.
Peter felt dizzy, you were everywhere. He could feel you everywhere and he had never felt such ecstasy. He twitched inside you as your cunt clenched around his cock deliciously.
You weren’t able to contain your moans as you cried harder, salty tears saturating the sheets beneath your head as he fucked you past your orgasm.
“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said, voice deep with desire. The way your pussy fluttered around him became too much.
“N-no,” you shakily moved your hands down to his pelvis, pushing with all the strength your weak body could muster. “P-peter, don’t want,” black mascara-stained tears streamed down your face, your lipstick smudged up to your nose, and you looked absolutely wrecked.
“I didn’t fucking ask,” his voice was near a growl, “m’gonna cum in this pretty, puffy pussy. Listen to it scream for me, pulling me back in, fluttering around me. You want this.”
You shook your head, pushing once again, you let out a choked sob as he thrusted particularly hard, “N-no.”
Peter moaned loudly, squeezing your plump waist as he stilled.
You could feel his hot, hot cum painting your walls. You felt a weight on your heart, he had coaxed multiple orgasms from you, stolen them and your innocence along with them. And now, he was inside of you. His cum had likely forced its way into your cervix, mingling with your most intimate of places.
A small part of you liked it. You tried your hardest to ignore that part of you that enjoyed being full. So full of Peter. He was the best for you, after all.
Peter thrusted a few more times, dreading the thought of leaving your tight, warm hole.
You were everything he had ever imagined. Your plump body, your sugary sweet taste, your beautiful noises…
He would never let you go.
Peter gave your limp body a final kiss. You were too fucked out to react. As he pulled out of you he stared at your puffy cunt. It was wet with slick and sweat. Cum slid out of the abused hole. He took his finger and pushed it back in, loving the way you jolted and tried to close your legs.
Peter Parker loved to look at you. Even more so now, with you bare in front of him. Your skin was glistening under the rays of the artificial streetlights outside your window and remnants of your innocence were on his cock.
#CHECK WARNINGS#tw noncon#peter parker (belle’s version)#peter parker smut#peter parker x reader#peter parker#dark!peter parker#mcu!peter parker smut#tasm!peter parker smut#tobey!peter parker smut#tasm!peter x reader#dark!tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter parker#tobey!peter parker#dark!peter parker x reader#peter parker dark#dark!spiderman#spiderman x reader#peter parker x plus size reader#dark mcu#dark mcu smut#plus size reader#peter parker x plus size reader smut#spiderman x plus size reader
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18+ content. You have been warned!
Okay, so, the top 3 fics I am working on at the moment:
***
# 1 - Cream & Sugar - Complete LINK
One shot, currently sitting at 12k words. Story part done, now I need to add more nasty to it. Orgasm denial and overstimulation for Peter. P in v sex, cream pie, Peter is tied to a lawn chair and you have your way with him, breeding kink, he begs a lot, blah blah blah.
Sub!Spider-Man Noir x Dom!spider!fem!reader (I think it's soft Dom, but you decide.)
***
# 2 - Just A Taste - Part 2
Second part of Just A Taste. Peter takes you on a simple date. Yes. More sex. I was thinking public sex, maybe they get caught by someone? I dunno. Haven't decided. Story part is done, just whipping up the nasty. More creampie monster fuckery.
SPIDER-Man/Man-Spider Peter Parker x Sorceress!fem!reader
***
# 3 - Poisoned Empanadas - Chapters 5 - 10
So much more story. Real people sex! You get nothing more out of me.
Spider-Man 2099 Miguel O'Hara x fem!spider!reader
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Runner ups:
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# 4 - No name as of yet, might be chaptered, might not be
Tiny bit of story, monster fucker sex with a magic man that looks like a demonic tentacle demon. Much nasty.
Eldritch Horror/Watcher/Supreme Doctor Stephen Strange x Watcher's Assistant!fem!reader
***
# 5 - Decent into Madness
This is pure filth and crack for me. Written by me, for me, and I am sharing for others to enjoy. I am counting this as a size kink, breeding kink, monster fucker (because it's MOTHER FUCKING BEAST FROM THE X-MEN! I DON'T DO REGULAR HUMAN HANK, SORRY.) and it's nasty.
Dark Beast x Mutant!fem!reader
***
I am also working on other various fics and projects and requests, but they aren't as high up on my priority list at the moment. If have seen some requests, don't worry, I haven't forgotten. My muse to write is saying do these now.
❤️ 💙
#poisoned empanadas#just a taste part 2#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#man spider#spider man#peter parker#miguel o'hara smut#peter parker smut#man spider smut#spider man noir#spider man noir smut#spider noir#spider noir x reader#peter parker x reader#doctor strange smut#doctor strange supreme smut#doctor strange x reader#dark beast xmen#beast hank maccoy#beast hank mccoy x reader#monster fucker#moon knight#jake lockley#18+ fanfic#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley smut#spider reader#sorceress reader#fem!reader
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Forever and ALWAYS (DARK! PETER)
Request: Can you do dark! Peter (tasm) with a reader that is a friend or maybe girlfriend of peter (tom). When peter (tasm) is transported for peter (tom) universe he meets her and starts to be really protective over her and starts to desenvolved a obssesion over her.SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS AHEAD
Thank you for your request! Please reblog, like, and let me know what you think!
Warnings: SMUTTY NONCON actions, forced impreg
18+ !!!! If you “keep reading” you are acknowledging that you are 18+ and that you have read the warnings.
Please Do not translate, no permission to repost any of my writing on any other platform, and do not copy this and claim it as your own.
Peter was confused. He roamed the streets like any other day, but then he came across a billboard with a picture of Spider-man but it wasn't him. Everything was different, the suit, the build, and the face. His spidey sense started to alarm him, he quickly ran down an alley, putting his mask on and discarded the rest of his clothes. He got on top of the buildings, looking for any danger but there was nothing, the only thing he noticed was that the city looked different, as if it was a totally different world. He felt extremely uneasy so he got back down, walking through the dark alleyways of this weird version of Queens. Thats when he sensed it, golden light started to circle. “what the fu-” when it opened completely, he saw two people on the other side. “Peter!” they called out, making him tilt his head. He started to run towards it, entering someones home.
As Peter met everyone, he finally understood that he was in a different universe, where he has another spider-man from a different universe in front of him. This was too much to handle but he had this theories of all this, hes just glad he wasnt crazy. “Okay so I know our Peter needs our help but I really need to bring our friend y/n with us. Im sure Peter will need her there too. Come on Ned, do the swirly thingy” MJ instructed, patting Neds shoulder in encouragement. “Wait what if she's showering or something, maybe we should warn her?” Ned added, making MJ roll her eyes, “fine ill call her.”
“Hello? MJ, please tell me Peter is with you guys. He wont answer my calls.” you frantically spoke.
“Look y/n...I think May...passed. There is so much to explain but where are you right now?”
“My house, watching all this in the living room, wheres Pete-” your eyes opened wide, “r”. MJ, Ned, another man and a different looking Spider-Man were in front of you. As you got up and walked towards the portal, you tilted your head in confusion, “Peter?”. Before he could answer Ned corrected you, “He is Peter but not our Peter”. MJ walked through first, taking you into a big hug, then Ned joined. Hugging them tightly, finally letting your tears roll at the loss of dearest May. “We have to find Peter,y/n..we need to go now”
Peter couldnt describe the feeling that he had towards you when he saw you crying. He wanted to go up to you and take you into a big big hug, but you didnt know him. However, he wanted you to. He wanted you to know everything about him, in hopes that one day he could embrace you as much as he pleased.
“Im so sorry, how rude of me to not say hello” Shes polite, how charming, he thought to himself as he smiled towards you.
You approached the two men standing in the room of where the portal once was, “My name is y/n. nice to meet you Peter” you shook the shorter Peters hand first, “Nice to meet you too y/n”. When you went to the taller Peter, you got a bit nervous, he was very handsome. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Y/n, as you might have heard”. He giggled, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips, kissing it lightly, “Pleasures all mine”. You smiled, your cheeks starting to flush. “Alright lovebirds..we need to go” MJ added, “Ned, find our Peter now...no offense”.
Peter looked at you the entire time, taking in every detail. How you talked, worried, walked, even how your eyes glistened right before you cried. After the loss of Gwen, he ignored all the females that crossed his path but with you...you just seemed so interesting and soft and kind. He gravitated towards you. He even felt your energy change when you got close to him. You would fit perfectly in his life, now accepting that he could move on.
When you two got to the school, the two peters went ahead, while the three of you ran to the roof of the building. Peter was devastated, clearly in anger, sadness, and in shock at the loss of his aunt. When you hugged him to give him your condolences, Peter couldn’t help but to feel jealous. He wanted that for himself. He didn’t want you to hug anyone else like that. He didn’t know what was happening to him. Peter never felt that possessive over someone who he didn’t really know. Angry, he started clutching the metal bar that he was crouched over, making it bend. No one else heard it except for the Spider Men, making Peter look up at the two of them.
“Peter, I need you to meet a couple new friends we made” MJ started. As he got acquainted with them, it all made sense and everyone was caught up to speed. “Look we need to split up. Norman is somewhere out there and we need to be careful. Everyone turned on me at the last second. You three need to go home.”
MJ wasn’t thrilled with that idea at all. “Are you crazy? We are not leaving you. We are coming with”
Peter shook his head, “No MJ, you’re not understanding. These guys want to kill me. You guys can not be there, it’s too dangerous”
“No! We’re coming with you. We’re all in this together, remember?”MJ reinstated, getting upset that Peter wasn’t being reasonable.
Peter contemplated for a bit, looking at all of you. “Not sure if this is a good idea but you and Ned can come with. Y/n, I’m sorry, but you have to go back home. Ned and MJ have gone through this in the past, and I’m not risking you at all”
You were a little hurt but he had just lost his aunt, you weren’t about to give him an additional ache. “Of course Peter, I understand” looking down at your feet, trying to not show emotion.
You felt a presence approach you, looking up you noticed it was the taller Peter, “I can take her home. Is that ok with you, y/n?”
Your face started to get hot, “yeah that’s fine”
Peter smiled and placed his hand on your lower back, “Ok, let me know where you’ll be and I’ll meet you there. Please be safe everyone”
-
The walk back to your place was a little awkward for you. You weren’t sure what to even talk about. “Hey don’t get inside your head! Don’t be afraid of me, I won’t bite…much” he said nudging you with his shoulder. Not anticipating the move, you ended up tripping over your feet, Peter catching you before you could fall further, pulling you towards him. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for that to happen” worrying that you might have hurt yourself. All you could do was laugh, “Dont worry about it. I have terrible balance”.
“So Peter from another universe, huh? That’s crazy to think about. Your guys life are so similar, but different at the same time.”
“I know right. It’s almost like looking in a mirror, but with a few differences” he replied, a hint of sadness in his words.
“I’m really sorry about your uncle and your girlfriend Gwen. It seems like out of all of them you’ve suffered the most. That must have been so hard” you added. “Yeah it was hard but I got over it. I have hope that everything will work out. Id love to have a family, kids, and a beautiful wife”
“Yeah I don’t doubt that”
“You think so? What makes you say that” trying to hide his smile, looking down at your beautiful eyes, loving the way the moon shined on you.
“Seems like you’re a sweet guy, handsome too, tall, an amazing person who helps and protects others. I just don’t think it would be hard for you to get any girl you want.”
He stopped, making you pause as well. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him, “Dont make me fall for you, please. We’re from different universes and I don’t want to get attached. There would be no way for me to come back to you.”
“I’m sorry….I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually reserved but since you don’t know me I tried to be more upfront. Guess it’s not my style”
“Silly DONT change yourself for anyone. As much as I’m trying to not want you…you’re making it nearly impossible” he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, looking at you through his half opened eyes, his lips ghosting over you.
You quickly pecked his lips, smiling at his surprised reaction. If he was going to leave, might as well act up and have fun with someone like him.
“Oooops, my bad” you teased, letting yourself go from him, walking away. Peter was shocked, you were like a cat, rubbing yourself on him for attention. He’s certainly never had someone be like this to him but it felt fun. He shot a web at you, pulling you back towards him. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, pinning you against a dark alley.
You giggled in nervousness, enjoying how he was loosing it, “go ahead”.
“I didn’t like you touching Peter, is that bad? I felt jealous because I wanted you to hug me instead. That’s gotta be insane right?”
The closeness of his body to yours was intoxicating. His voice, warmth, eyes, everything was so alluring.
“It was a hug of consolation from a friend. Nothing to be upset about” you assured.
Peter loved how you were answering to him already, you had be submissive. “But I dont want you to do it again”
“Peters my friend though. We always hug eachother. Me, him, Ned. MJ”
“Youre min-…I mean…If youre my girl, I wouldn’t want you to go hugging everyone. How would you feel if me and you are dating and I go around hugging other girls. You wouldn’t feel some type of way?”
“I mean yeah, but it’s different because we’re all close frien-”, he cut you off by kissing you. He didn’t want to hear you oppose him anymore. He grabbed your neck and kissed you with such passion, deepening the kiss before you even registered what was going on. His tongue slid into your mouth, while you moaned at the feeling of his hands roaming your body. You didn’t remember what you two were talking about or why this was happening, all you could focus on was on him and his touch. Your body ignited with fire, when his knee wedged itself between your legs, brushing over your needy pussy.His knee was now right under you, making your hips grind on it. “Where’s your house” Peter asked, panting all out of breath. “The next building, on the 10th floor, you can kind of see the balcony from here” you pointed toward the direction and Peter lifted you up immediately. “Hold on to me” and with that he lifted you up, swinging you up to it.
As you latched onto him, he held you while he swung up above the buildings. At first you were scared, holding onto him tighter, but he had a tight grip on you, making you feel secure. When you opened your eyes you smiled, as the beautiful lights of the city spread across your eyesight.
Peter made it to the balcony, gently placing you down on your feet but then wasted no time reconnecting himself with you again, holding you in his arms as he cornered you into the walls. He just needed to be all over you, he hadn’t felt like this in a while. When he started to kiss your neck, your phone rang, completely ruining the moment. When you saw the name you quickly answered it, “MJ what’s up?”
“You need to tell Peter that once he drops you off, he needs to meet our Peter back where he was. They’re both waiting for him there. They’re going to go over the plan but it looks like they’re going to be sent back to their universes today. Strange has the box ready if Norman and his goons don’t get fixed.”
You felt sad hearing that Peter wouldn’t be here anymore. Maybe it was the sexual tension messing with your head, but you really didn’t want him to go. He was fun to be with in these little moments you two shared. “Mkay. I’ll let him know” you hung up the phone, looking over at Peter. He heard everything. His heart broke knowing he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore. He wanted you to be with him, he just met you and he was infatuated with his pretty little kitten.
“Peter” you started, turning around to face him.
“I know. But believe me, this isn’t goodbye. I’m going to come for you one day. I’m going to take you away with me, trust me I will. But I want you to promise me something”
“What is it?”
“Dont get together with anyone. Wait for me”
“Peter, I dont know how plausible that is. You’re from a different universe. It’s impossible that you’ll be able to return, right?”
“No, I’m going to find a way. There has to be a way. I’m not loosing you. I cant. Just promise me you’ll be only for me? Yeah?”
You didn’t want to promise this. It wasn’t certain that he would return, it would be impossible.
“But what if you never come back?”
He grabbed your arms and shook you, “I told you to promise me you’ll be mine. Keep that promise until I come back”
“Peter that’s illogical. What if you never come, I would need to move on. I cant be waiting for someone who’s only existed a couple of hours in my universe”
“Look, im going to give you my mask, keep it with you at all times, ok?”
“Dont you need it right now?”
“No, I have a back up. I’ll be coming back for it…and you. So keep it with you at all times. It will lead me straight to you. I don’t know how but I’m sure there will be a way.” he smiled giving you a quick peck, “Now let me hear that promise”
“I promise I’ll wait for you”.
He smiled and gave you a longer kiss this time, “that’s my kitten.”
Saying your goodbyes, he dived out of your balcony to get back to the other Peters. Seeing him swing away made your heart ache, he was going to be gone for god knows how long. It was only a couple of hours of interaction but you wanted so much more. You’ve never fallen for anyone that fast, you could only hope it was the same for him and that he would indeed come back to you.
Peter wasn’t thinking straight, you were at the forefront of his mind blocking any other thought about the current situation. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to see you again after everyone was put back into their universe. Magic was the only way to have you go with him, it just had to be done. He wanted to be with you, it was like an instinct, he just knew that you two needed to be together. That void that he once felt, was now filled because of you. He had lost too much, he wasn’t going to loose you too.
~~~The Aftermath~~~
Dr.Strange had his spell ready, he was just waiting on Peter to say goodbye to MJ and Ned. As they hugged and cried, Peter went up to Strange, “Can you adjust this spell? I know you don’t know me but I need your help. Y/n, Peters friend, has to come to my universe. Please, is there any way you can do that?”
“Kid, I do appreciate what you did for this universe, but taking someone from here is dangerous . I don’t know how your universe will take it, and I can’t undo something like that.”
Peter balled up his fists, he could feel his vein pulsating in anger. “I’ll figure it out, but all I know is that’s…she’s coming with me” he muttered, swinging off.
If his theory was correct, you would appear in his world, he just had to find you. If not, then he’d have to go look for his universes Dr.Strange. If that didn’t work then, he would have to come up with another plan, but whatever it would take, he was going to go find you.
As Dr.Strange casted his spell, all the beings from the different universes started to fade, slowly going back into their original homes. Peter thought about you, wondering if you’d still remember him if he came back for you after a while, the thought of loosing you made his heart ache, an all too familiar feeling.
You were in your bed, crying for him, you held his mask close, wiping away your tears with your knuckles. Your eyes closed for a brief moment and then everything went black.
Peter was back in Queens, looking at the familiar streets, he was in his suit but he had no mask. Because of this, he had to travel up and across the buildings. He thought his mask would be on him but it wasn’t, could it be that you had it? Just thinking about it, he nearly missed the swing, causing him to crash a little onto the roof. “Y/n” was all he muttered. He tried to scan the city, heard communications from the police department to try and narrow it down but there was nothing. He decided to head home and give it another try tomorrow, after all, this was the first step in his plan. When he got to his place, he slipped into his room quietly, careful to not wake aunt May. As he turned the lights on, his spider sense went off, shooting the web at whatever was there. When he turned the light on, he stood there in shock, his knees feeling weak.
“Y/n???!!” He nearly yelled. Your mouth was covered in his web and you couldn’t move, he had attached you to his wall. As he ripped it off of you, he quickly embraced you, giving you a dozed kisses, “oh my god I can’t believe you’re here, how?-“
“The mask Peter! I woke up and I was here” you explained trying to stay quiet.
“Why are y-?” He stopped looking at the door.
“Peter??? Is that you?” Aunt may called, her footsteps getting closer and closer.
He made sure the door was locked before instructing you to stay quiet with a finger over his lips.
“Y-yeah it’s me! I got up for some water I’m going back to bed” he lied, hoping she would believe it.
Aunt May didn’t say anything, she just got closer and close to the door, “Okay…whatever you say…do me a favor and use protection.” She added before heading to her room. Peter face palmed himself before looking at you, shaking his head.
“Shes very perceptive” you added trying to control your giggle, “yeah she is. I’m surprised she doesn’t know my secret yet, she finds out everything” he smiled, ripping off the few webs that were left. He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him into bed. “I thought I lost you” he whispered, running his hand through your hair, “I thought so too, Peter. But your mask led me here, somehow I just knew where to come, so I sneaked into your room. I also fell but I managed to get inside” you confessed holding his hand close to your chest.
“I’m just glad you’re here with me, I know its going to be difficult for you to be here without anyone, but I promise I’ll be the only one you will ever need, okay? We will go to school together, we will live in the same place where you’re safe, and soon we will start our own little family. Would you like that?”
He asked sitting up so that he could face you completely. There was no doubt that he was already thinking too fast but you decided to go along with it, “Yes I’d love it! But let’s take it slow first, a family can be considered way down the line” you replied, making his expression change, his smile slowly fading.
“What do you mean? You don’t think we should start thinking about having a family?” Peter was clearly offended, but you didn’t want to upset him, “No not at all! I’m just saying we should take it nice and slow.”
“Y/n…you come from a different universe. You were brought here because of me. Its only right that we stay together until death do us part. I am head over heels for you sweetheart, I don’t want to loose you…and I won’t”
Peter was speaking like a different person right now. You almost thought that this was a joke but he looked dead serious. In order to deescalate the situation, you gave him a nice sensual kiss, his lips melting right into yours. It worked as he instantly reacted to your actions, grabbing your hair, tangling his fingers through it, “youre all mine” he whispered leading you onto the bed. As he climbed up over you, his desperation got worse. He needed more. “I need you y/n...” he grunted, his hips bucking into you. You could feel his bulge over your clothes, his hardness pressing against your clit, “Peter no...we need to take it slow” you reminded, making him jump away from you in annoyance.
“I dont get you. Youre speaking as if we might not work out. Y/n, youre the only one I want, youre the only one I have. Can you please just give into me” he whispered harshly, as he started to take his suit off.
“Thats not it Peter. Im just not ready to have sex with you. I mean my body tells me yes but we”
“then why dont you listen to your body” he muttered, walking towards you slowly. He yanked you towards him but your ankle, spreading your legs and allowing him to bet in between them, “I know what you're afraid of and its stupid” he cooed, ripping your shirt off, “You think we wont last together. You want to go date other guys and figure out what they have to offer but let me tell you something princess..that is not how this is going to be”
He smiled, unhooking your bra, making you gasp. Your arms cover your chest as he was undoing your pants, “Peter that is not true”
“It better not be. For your sake” he warned, pulling your hands away, holding them down on the bed, “Because I dont want to hurt you. Ive lost a lot y/n, and you wont be part of that. Youre going to be with me forever, you understand?” he whispered against your skin, giving you soft kisses and a few licks.
“mm Peter” you moaned screwing your eyes shut, “I understand but lets not do this today”.
“Are you sure? I can feel the heat radiating off of your pussy, your heart rate is going so fast and the way you're clenching your thighs together...mmm.. tells me you want more.” he chuckled, letting your hand go before rubbing your pussy. Gasping, your back arched up, your breasts pressing onto his chest, “Thats it baby relax, let yourself succumb to the pleasure” he purred taking your lips into a deep kiss, his long slender fingers touching you in all the right places. His cock twitched with every moan you let out, his mouth preventing it from resonating. “I cant hold off any longer, I need to feel you” he desperately whined, careful to not disconnect his fingers from you, “wait Peter put on a- AAH” you yelled, feeling his cock sink into you. Your hands flew over your mouth trying to quiet yourself, “No condom...I want to feel you completely swallow me” he moaned, moving his hips into you. Your eyes closed, toes curling at the feeling of him inside you. “so tight” he shivered, quickening his pace.
The bed started to shake, the sound of skin slapping filled the room, “I can feel you getting close my love, just let go” he ordered, moving his fingers faster. “I want you to cum on my dick, princess”. Your head was spinning, your body was too overwhelmed with pleasure, your orgasm two pumps away. “Fuck~ Peterrr” you moaned, gripping onto his back, wrapping your legs around him as you came with his cock still inside you, his hips fucking you at a faster pace now.
Peter was mesmerized by how beautiful you looked taking his cock as you orgasmed on his dick. “I cant wait till you swell up with our babies. Youre going to look absolutely beautiful while pregnant” he smiled, looking at your beautiful face as he started to pound you even faster. The realization hit you, he wasnt wearing a condom. “Peter dont cum inside me, we dont have protection”
“Shut up and take it y/n... I have to keep you in my life forever princess, this will make sure of that” he sadistically smiled as you started to panic. “Please Peter” you cried but in his sick mind he imagined you were begging for him to cum, making him reach his own high. He groaned and halted his movements, his cock twitching inside you as he drained himself into your fertile womb. “Now you’ll forever me mine. Always”
#Dark Fic#dark smut#dark marvel#dark spiderman#dark spiderman smut#dark peter parker#DARK PETER PARKER SMUT#yandere smut#yandere peter parker#yandere marvel#PETER PARKER#peter parker x you#dark! peter parker x you
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Picture Perfect Masterlist
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summary | Your sister Natasha is in trouble. You know it in your gut, and even moreso — you know it’s because of her so called ‘family’ the Avengers. Natasha hasn’t been the same since joining them, yet you can’t quite seem to prove anything. But with a little digging you think you may be able to discover what’s really going on behind those superhero facades. Look beyond the sickly sweet smiles, the false personas the rest of the world seems to buy into. There’s something dark lurking behind the secluded walls of the avengers compounds, and it’s up to you to figure out what exactly it is. It’s up to you to save your sister and yourself — before it becomes too late.
warnings | dark!peter parker, dark!avengers, non-con, kidnapping, dubcon, violence, loss of virginity (m. and f), manipulation, overall mature themes, stalking, delusional!peter, 18+ ONLY
──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────
Prologue
I
II
III
more to come…
#peter parker x reader#peter parker#dark!peter parker#dark!avengers#avengers x reader#peter parker smut
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Nighttime Crawler- dark!Peter Parker imagine
Summary: Peter Parker’s girlfriend has broken up with him, but he can’t accept that. They were meant to be together forever, and he is going to make her see that, no matter the consequences.
Warnings: smut, swearing, non-con, somnophilia, bondage, breeding kink
Main Masterlist
Word Count: 1,343
The first thing that I was aware of as I awoke was the pleasure in my core, the rapidly growing feeling slowly igniting like liquid heat through my body. The second was that even though I had just awoken, I was rocking my hips backwards and forwards against... something, but I didn’t know what.
The room was dark, but I knew that I was in my bedroom. I couldn’t stop the movements, needing to create friction, letting the feeling in my core grow, higher and higher, and then... it broke, and I uttered out a cry into the night. My hips bucked against whatever it was that had just helped me to achieve my unexpected orgasm.
Then I felt it.
A hand on my stomach, holding my hips down as a tongue lapped away at my slit. I twitched at the ministrations as I came down from my orgasm, and as I did so, the panic started to set in.
I had certainly fallen asleep alone, and in the haze of freshly waking up and being bought to orgasm all within thirty seconds, my mind hadn’t quite caught up to what was happening.
I tried to sit up and realised that I couldn’t move my hands. Slowly I tilted my head back and froze as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. My hands were pinned to the headboard, held down by a white, stringy web. An extremely familiar web.
“Peter,” I whispered, and the movements between my legs stopped. I looked down, and utter fear set in as my ex-boyfriend lifted his head to look at me. His mouth was wet - with my juices - because of the orgasm that he had forced on me in my sleep. His eyes were bright.
“Hey, baby,” he said hoarsely. “I was hoping that you’d stay asleep for a little longer.”
Peter and I had been dating for two years, but we had broken up three months ago - well, I had broken up with him. Towards the end of our relationship, it had felt like I had been dating a ghost, and whenever he did find time to spend with me, he was moody or angry. He’d never hit me before, but he could be cruel when he wanted to be. I knew that he was Spider-Man, and understood that he had responsibilities, but after he had stood me up for our twelfth scheduled date, and blamed me for it somehow, I had had enough.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered and looked wildly around my bedroom for something that I could use to defend myself if I could get free of his damn webbing. My bedside tables were empty.
“I’ve missed you. Haven’t you missed me?”
“No, Peter,” I spat, trying to muster as much venom into my tone as possible. “You need to leave.”
Something in his eyes dimmed at my words, and chills ran over every part of my body. I realised that he must have removed my panties and sleep shorts, and my shirt was pushed up past my breasts. My nipples pebbled against the night air.
“You don’t mean that, baby. Look how much fun we’re having,” Peter whispered, and leaned down, taking my hardened bud in his mouth. His teeth clamped around it, twisting it lightly, and I gasped, arching into him. “See, you know that you want me. You’ve missed me.”
“Peter,” I stuttered. “I will scream, I mean it.”
He released me from his teeth and looked up. His wavy brown hair was plastered to his forehead. “Oh, baby, you shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled, and before I could turn my head, there was webbing over my mouth, leaving only enough room for me to breathe out of my nose.
True panic started to set in. I started to struggle, tried to yank my arms down from the headboard, but they were stuck hard. I lifted my legs up, aiming my knees at his stomach, but he only sat back on his legs, moving out of the way. I only now realised that he was entirely naked, his erection standing hard, pressed against his stomach.
His eyes ran down my naked body; I could practically feel his gaze like a touch on my skin, and I squirmed, trying to cover up my modesty by crossing my legs.
“Don’t be like that,” Peter groaned, and he reached down, ripping my legs apart. Before I could cross them again, he was leaning forwards, legs on either side of me and holding my bottom half down. One hand cupped my breast whilst the other held my cheek as he aligned his body over mine.
I tried to speak, to yell, to scream at him to leave me alone but any sound I did make fell on deaf ears.
“You never should have broken up with me,” he said. His face hovered above mine, his eyes meeting my frightened ones. The love and innocence that I had once seen in their chocolate depths was gone, leaving behind only the violent and dark side that I had only seen on a few unfortunate occasions. “And now, I’m going to make sure you can never leave me.”
And then he was sliding inside of me, finding no resistance as I was already dripping wet thanks to the attentions of his mouth. He thrust himself up to his hilt and let out a groan that made me clench around him. I hadn’t been with anyone else since we had broken up, and despite my mind knowing how messed up this situation was, my body had not caught up yet.
“You feel amazing, baby,” Peter uttered as he started to rock his hips, moving himself in and out of me. I could do nothing to stop him, nothing to stop the feel of him as he hit the perfect spot inside of me - the spot that only he knew how to find. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as he started to pick up his speed, moaning behind my web gag. Peter smirked, moving his hand that had been holding my breast and placing it next to the side of my head to keep himself up. “See, your body needs me. You need me. And I need you.”
As he started to quicken his movements even more, I unconsciously started to move with him, one of my legs coming up to wrap around his slim hips. He smiled, a feral, animalistic grin as I did so, but I was too focused on chasing my high to care. My skin was fire, my mind a melted mess as he thrust. I could feel myself clenching around him, my body wanting to take every ounce of pleasure that he could offer. His hand left my cheek and reached down between us, and started rubbing my clit, increasing the waves of pleasure coursing through me. The moans I was letting out under my gag were desperate, loud and I had never made them before for anyone else. Peter knew how to play my body like an instrument, tuning it to his rhythm.
His movements started to become sloppier, more frantic and I knew that he was close, and so was I.
“Gonna fill you up with my seed,” he murmured. “I’m going to put a baby in you.”
And then we both came together, exploding in a wave of pleasure. He thrust up into me as he finished, leaking all his cum inside of me.
As I came down from my high, I registered exactly what we had just done. What he had done. He wanted me to be pregnant with his child.
He was insane.
“Let’s go again, baby,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek. The look in his eyes was more frightening than anything I had ever seen as he looked down at my stomach. “You’re going to look so beautiful, carrying our child.” He met my eyes. “And you’ll never be able to leave me again.”
#peter parker#peter parker imagine#dark peter parker#dark!peter parker#dark imagine#peter parker fanfiction#marvel imagine#smut imagine#tw noncon#breeding toy#tom holland imagine
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captivated habits | 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪
prompt: your unrequited love for peter turns unhinged.
warnings: mentions of stalking, f!masturbation (referenced), unrequited love, obsessive behaviour, ptsd, erotomania, attachment issues, and bpd (borderline personality disorder)
word count: 5.9k
a/n: i was feeling dark, so read at your own risk i guess. also tysm for the love on rebound ajnskafn!! part three is in the works <3
The moment you met him, you should've known something was wrong with you.
At first, you thought it was an innocent crush, always having that feeling of butterflies flying around in your stomach when you were around him. You even looked forward to going to school, having the energy that normally you never had. He had you on a euphoric feeling.
The next thing you know, you're becoming a lot more addicted than you should've. Most people say it might be limerence, but you know that's almost complete bullshit. Now, those people could be telling the truth, but there was something deep down inside you that ached, always.
You were becoming a different person in the most unhealthy way. You started to seek him out in the school hallways, got to know his schedule, and there was even one point where you followed him home (which may or may not have been an accidental occurrence that happened more than once).
He of course did not know who you were, you weren't friends but he knew you from a few of your classes (three of them to be exact), so he had no idea of your intense feelings for him.
It was unrequited in the worst way possible. How can someone so pretty, so pure and innocent not feel the same way? Possibly because you made no effort to have an actual conversation with him, the only time you did was when he asked to borrow your pencil. Let's just say you cherished his touch on the wooden object as soon as you got home from school that day.
The boy in question is Peter Benjamin Parker. The absolute love of your life. His beautiful chestnut brown hair, those same coloured eyes that shine brighter than the sun, moon and stars. His nose as crooked as a trail through the woods, the small dotted freckles decorating its presence. The boy was one of a kind, you loved him more than you loved yourself.
There were times where you would stay up at night, fantasizing about what it would be like for him to yours. Being able to embrace his warmth, letting him be the shoulder you cry on, having special dates only reserved for the two of you. Those thoughts ate away in your head, you were too down bad, but you didn't care.
Currently, you were laying in your bed, trying to get proper sleep. It had been a long day, only having a little amount of time to see him. If it wasn't for your mother who had unfortunately picked you up early because you had a dentist appointment, you would had got to see him longer throughout the day. The class she had called you out of just so happened to be the class Peter was in, so now he probably thought you had something wrong with your teeth, which wasn't the case. You only had three hours and fifthteen more minutes until you got to see him again.
You would always get up an hour before you had to attend school, picking out your prettiest outfit for him even if he didn't pay attention to you half the time. It wasn't his fault, never would it ever be his fault. Plus, you liked watching the sun rise, imagining what it would be like to be on a random rooftop of New York, watching the star rise in its wake with Peter.
Peter had always got to school five minutes after it's starting time, reasons you were unsure of. You always tried to linger around his locker before he arrived because it gave him a chance to see you once he cascaded up the stairway. His gaze was always straight ahead (or sometimes downward depending on his mood that morning), so you sometimes purposely walk past him after standing at his locker for five minutes straight. This became a daily routine.
Though so far it doesn't seem like you have a mental illness, but there is surely something wrong with you without a doubt.
People who just have "crushes" or are "in love" are the people you tend to avoid. Those are silly feelings. Feelings that only last for a few weeks or even months. With Peter, you knew it was more than love, it made your head spin with the possibilities that you had a chance with him.
You knew Peter never felt the same way, he didn't even know your name, which is understandable because you never made the effort to get him to know your name. But there were times that made you feel like he knew exactly who you were. He would sometimes send a small friendly smile your way, ask you for help on problems that involved the classes you shared together, and even grazed your fingertips when you gave him that pencil. It was a sign of the start of your love story.
Sometimes you wrote letters to him, none of them were sent of course (except maybe the poems), and even emailed him a few times, anonymously complimenting him on his excellent work or you would write words of affirmation on his favourite coloured sticky notes, placing them on his locker before, after, or during school hours.
You knew Peter didn't take a liking into your unwanted gifts. There had been a few times when you had sent him LEGO Star Wars sets to build with his friend, Ned. You only did that because you heard him talking about it, and you loved the idea of making him happy. You even started watching Star Wars because he was so fond of it. Sadly enough, he had exchanged your gift for some sort of technology for whatever project he was making. You only knew this detail because you were there, obviously.
It would had hurt a lot more, but you were glad he was actually happy with his barters. Doing it a few more times only proved his happiness was limited and you noticed it started creeping him out instead of doing the exact opposite.
You feared the worst if he ever found out it was you all along.
Once the timer hit six thirty AM, you eagerly arose from your bed, grabbing your outfit you had thought thoroughly about since yesterday when you had went shopping with your mom. You bought clothing items you knew he would like, you were feeling hopeful.
You even snuck into your mother's beauty kit, applying a step my step makeup look you saw on YouTube last night. It wasn't too much make up, light enough for Peter to see the glow that amplify your best features.
After what felt like ages of applying the look, you grabbed your backpack from your closet, the pictures that decorated the inside only making you smile, thinking of the day that's bound to be wonderful ahead of you.
The pictures weren't anything too special, just a few off guarded candids of Peter, either reading, walking in or out of Delmar's, or your personal favourite, when you were outside in the field during gym for one class, you just so happened to catch a glimpse of his smile. You've never pulled out your camera so fast.
Yes, it was unnatural, and borderline creepy, but he didn't suspect a thing considering you're in the school's photography club. To be fair, the only reason you joined was for the sole reason of taking pictures of Peter.
Sometimes you would remove the picture from the closet's wall and get under the covers of your bed, holding it up to your face, touching yourself as you imagined what it would be like to have him engulfing your body, having his way with you.
Those thoughts were for another time, you figured you could wait until later tonight to revisit them.
When you exit your room, you make your way out of the apartment, making sure to have the new digital camera you had previously bought with your last paycheque, inside of your backpack. Though you only did photography because of Peter, it still interested you in ways that were sometimes not even related to the boy, which is less than one percent of the time.
If you were to put all the pictures you took on the small objects into a hard drive and upload it to a computer, people would be freaked out by just how much pictures you had of Peter.
You were so glad when you arrived at school, quickly shoving your things into your locker, making your way to the second floor to where Peter's was.
Your heart did somersaults, backflips, front flips even, as you got closer to the threshold. Though you knew the boy wouldn't arrive to school for another hour, you felt that if you stood near his locker long enough, you swear you felt his presence.
Walking up the stairs, dodging the many bodies of students that lingered around, you were so excited to just stand near his locker, tracing your fingers across the combination that you knew had his hands touch every so often.
The only downside to it was you didn't know his combination and no matter what you did, you could never figure it out, even if you planned to watch him put it in one day, the numbers were just so small to see, it made you feel undeveloped that you couldn't be closer to him in that sense.
What you did not expect to see when you finally were on the second floor was Peter standing at his locker talking to his friends.
No-, not friends, Ned, his only friend, and some girl who you recognized from your Math class.
She was tall, a lot taller than both Ned and Peter, she had brown curly hair and her skin was a light fair tan, her gorgeous face only adding to her appearance.
You could feel your guts inside your stomach twist and turn, the sick feeling only getting stronger when you watch as Peter effortlessly laughed at whatever it was the girl had said.
When had Peter decided that coming to school one hour before he actually does was a good idea? And why had you had no knowledge about his sudden change of schedule?
It was unfair that the boy had decided out of nowhere to change his daily routine. It threw you way off course, and you only hoped that the boy only made a change in his morning route, opting to still go to Delmar's every Wednesday (today) after school.
Your glare only got more diabolical the more you watched the three of them interact, the sight making your thoughts whirl with things only psychotic murderers would dare think of.
"Hey." A voice greets you from behind, startling you and you thanked whoever it was before you went too far off the deep end of the sight a few meters in-front of you.
You turn around, your gaze meeting your friend since freshman year, Cindy Moon.
She was a pretty Korean-American girl, her long black hair complimenting her small figure.
If you were being honest with yourself, you were only friends with the girl because she was on the Decathlon Team with Peter, and she was the only one from the team to actually make an effort to talk to you whenever she wasn't involved with studying, or being a friend to the world.
Of course the girl is aware of your "crush" on Peter, unaware of your obsessive delusions that you would much rather keep to yourself. There were times that the girl had made plans for the two of you to talk, but you were too afraid and unprepared to actually grow the balls and do it.
It's not like you haven't planned your first encountrment with the boy in your head, but you'd much rather do it on your own accords than have someone else half ass do it out of the kindness of their heart.
"Hey Cid." You reply with a small smile, quickly turning your attention back toward where Peter and his friends would have stood, but unfortunately they were nowhere to be found.
You eye twitched at the thought, scolding the girl behind you for missing your chance at seeing Peter walk away, capturing the backside of his figure as he did.
You turn to face the girl with a frown, watching her smile never disappear.
"Ready for first period? I did the homework for you!" She cheerily says, pulling a piece of paper from behind her back, giving it to you.
You take it gratefully, looking down at the Chemistry homework you knew you weren't going to do whatsoever.
Now to make yourself clear, you weren't using Cindy for doing your homework, that was just a plus. It wasn't your fault the girl was such a pushover. You had better things to do, like develop your film from your camera, find the perfect GPS tracking devices off Amazon that costed less than at least sixty dollars, and be near the love of your life any chance you got.
"Thanks." You simply say, your hands gripping the paper slightly.
"You're welcome." Cindy replies, and you were just about sick of her smiling.
"Okay, stop smiling, it's getting creepy." You tell her with a grimace, satisfied with yourself once her face slowly falls to a neutral expression.
You really had no problem with "happy-go people", it was just when someone who you knew or not had too much to smile about, it outraged you for reasons you weren't too sure of. Nevertheless, it was one of your many pet peeves, and the more you thought about those thoughts, you realized you might just be the most pessimistic person to walk earth.
There were a few things that made you happy of course, and you had a pretty well-tamed structure to maintain those happy thoughts to yourself, so you couldn't see why people most of the time couldn't do the same.
Even if it wasn't just "happy" thoughts, you knew humans were utterly incapable of keeping their thoughts to themselves. Always finding any reason to create chaos with their deliberations.
Sometimes you could never understand, maybe will never understand why humans are the way they are, yourself included you supposed.
"We should get to class." The girl breaks you from your notions, tugging on your sleeve as she drags you through the hall.
You blink a few times, coming back into reality, staring dumbly at a almost frantic Cindy Moon.
"Alright," You tell her quickly, snatching your arm away from her hold, following the black haired girl through the hallway to your class.
-
Your first period went by agonizingly slow. You were just itching to see Peter for your third period, and second period wasn't any better with its slow clock, which also happened to have been broken.
When second period was over after what quite literally was forever, you hastily packed your things and made a bee-line to your third period class, sitting in your unassigned assigned seat, said place had the perfect view of Peter as well.
You pulled out your notebook, the item was pencil filled with all sorts of logs of whenever you'd see or hear of Peter, and if you were to be honest, it was almost out of pages. You made sure to be careful when in public, hoping and praying that the people surrounding you didn't take a glance to see your so called "creepy" hobby and take it completely out of context. If that were to ever happen, you would quickly come up with a lie, or maybe if god was real, they wouldn't care in some sense.
You adored keeping track of Peter, it made you feel closer to him, though yes, there are other things that you do consider as close as you can get, but you know this is a way of knowing him better without actually having to talk to him.
"Is anyone sitting here?" A voice breaks you from your trance, and you smoothly and swiftly close your notebook, glancing up to the source of the voice curiously.
Your heart almost stops right then and there. You didn't want to believe it and had to blink more than twice to make sure you were seeing the person who stood before you. Suddenly, you felt this immense amount of impulse, the feeling being too reaming for you to handle.
In some fucked up way, you're sure you deserve this, having this weird inkling that the boy standing above you, almost towering you, had known about your obsession. He had only come over to tease you about it and possibly confront your creepy actions to the entire class (maybe even the entire school if you're honest). It made your head spin and you lack the proper ability to conjure up any english words, his eyes practically pleading for an answer.
"I, you,-" You start to form a sentence, scanning his attire, making a mental note in your head, and your heart beat increases to make things that much harder.
Peter was way too nice for his well-being, and normally you'd hate that in a person, but this was Peter, you loved anything he offered, and if he were to commit a violent crime, you'd be his number one defender. Hell, you'd even help him commit any crime if he asked.
Still, you figured maybe you were in some dream and Peter wasn't actually approaching you, asking if the seat next to you was available, because he shouldn't know of your existence, and it should almost be a world of fiction to allow him to ask you so.
"No." You mumble, hoping he'd heard it because you knew you weren't going to say more than just that one word.
Peter shows you a smile in appreciation and if you weren't sure you died before, you're sure you one percent died just now.
The boy sets down his bag near the free chair, and you move your stuff out the way to allow him the space he needed, watching his every move carefully.
You wonder if this was a wake up call of fate. In your head, you knew Peter was the one for you as much as you were the one for him, and maybe there was a god and the universe is conspiring for the two of you to be together. All it took was a little push.
The teacher walks in moments before the bell rings, and as quickly as he enters, the lesson starts not even seconds later.
"Sorry, do you have a pencil?" Peter has asked you in the past, of course, you remember it like yesterday and if you didn't, you knew it was probably in your 'log' notebook anyway.
You smile, a small unnoticeable one (that you made sure of), and instead of giving him a verbal answer, you dig through your backpack, pulling out a pencil before handing it to him, hearing a small 'thank you' that you surely heard.
Okay when you say a pencil, you mean the pencil, the same one you, well, had touched yourself with. Not that it was coated in anything other than your wetness, because if you were being frank, it was damn near impossible to reach climax with a object that thin.
You expertly observe Peter, your heart swelling at how tenderly he held onto the pencil, his concentrated expression doing wonders to your well-being. The poor boy had no idea of the sinful deeds you had done with the object in his grasp.
The whole lesson, you paid more attention to Peter, his scent, the way he wrote, and the many facial expressions he made whenever he was listening to your boring teacher speak. It was like watching your favourite film on repeat, learning the lines of each scene, and when you knew you had mastered each scene perfectly, you'd reenact each line word for word. Peter was your very own favourite movie, and hopefully one day he can reciprocate how you felt, perfecting you the way you perfected him.
"Here's you pencil, sorry I keep borrowing from you." He lets out a chuckle as he hands you back your (his) pencil, but you weren't up for that. As much as you would like to take it and cherish it, you knew it would mean a lot to you if he had kept it.
"No, you can, you can have it." You tell him, rejecting his hand that held the pencil.
Peter gives you a quizzical look, making sure it was okay if he did and you nod in confirmation.
"Oh, thank you." He smiles that award winning smile again.
You smile, packing your things up as the bell rings, students rushing out this dull classroom. You wanted to get out of there quickly, because you had something you needed to do and you know that if you got done in time, you'd catch Peter entering his science class with his friend, Ned.
"Hey, wait, um.." Peter calls out to you before you could exit the door and you turn around, albeit, quite desperately, seeing the boy with his backpack slung over one of his shoulders approaching you.
You feared the worst, truly. If he wasn't going to confront you in the beginning of class, he sure was now. Maybe the boy didn't want to embarrass you terribly in-front of everyone. Wanting no one around when he calls you out.
"I see you around a lot and I was just wondering if you wanted to sit with my friends and I at lunch today." Peter suggested, fiddling with the strap of his backpack.
"Not that I stalk you or anything, I just, you know, you seem cool and I guess...I don't know..." He seems at a lost for words, and you find it almost ironic how he doesn't stalk you, it being the other way around. Not that the boy needed to know that.
You stare at him, for a while, thinking of a answer that didn't seem too desperate, because had you known today was the day the love of your life talked to you for more than a second, you'd had the whole day planned out expertly.
"Sure." Was the most simple answer you could come up with, and the faltering smile from Peter grows wider.
"Cool." Peter nods in joy, walking past you, his scent ten times more stronger than it was before.
You turn around, watching him walk away, a skip to each step he took and you smile at his gleaming attitude, though you feel guilty for being the prime reason.
Guilt is such a improper feeling. Why should you feel bad for being in love with someone? Yes, it was very unhealthy with the rate you were at, you weren't even above surface anymore with the way you felt for Peter, but you honestly, didn't care.
Love came in many definitions and if you had to be delusional and down right psychotic to express that, so be it.
-
Michelle Jones. A fellow student at Midtown School of Technology and Science. An observant person who was well gifted in being smart. She shares your math class, the top of it as well and you envy everything about her.
Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, though she never tries to dress up at all, or even wear make up for that matter, she was also friends with Peter. You couldn't understand how or why. Peter was too good for anyone, such as Michelle herself, maybe even Ned.
Michelle didn't appreciate everything Peter did. Didn't understand him the way you did. Didn't go out of her way to send him gifts you knew he'd adore.
You couldn't see pass the logic of those two people, with much different personalities being friends.
It made your skin crawl with nuisance. What could she possible bring to the table that made Peter want to keep her around?
Of course, it wasn't like they were dating, you're pretty sure at least, but why would Peter feel the need to be friends with any other girl other than you?
You were okay with him being somewhat friends with your unknown mutual one, Cindy, but being friends with a girl you barely knew was testing your limits.
You really had no right to be jealous, Peter was barely considered a friend himself, but if you two were to be together, he simply couldn't be friends with girls much prettier than you. It may give him the wrong idea and you were terrified he'd forget about your existence entirely.
Which is why you had to give Michelle the benefit of the doubt. You studied her all math class, trying to have a decent understanding as to who she was as person, and thank goodness you were a quick learner.
All it took, really, was the entire math class to scout out exactly who she is and how she worked. Maybe you could weasel your way into her small circle, become her friend and break her down bit by bit and have a guarantee she wouldn't even think to become anything more with Peter. You'd make her insecure.
Yes, it's a patent wicked plan, you knew that, but you weren't going to risk your chances at love with Peter.
"It's Michelle, right?"
The girl incuriously glances up at the source of the voice, the math problem she was working on merely forgotten.
"Who's asking?" Michelle wondered, and you subconsciously clench your jaw, showing the girl a small, forced smile.
"I am." You tell her simply, she squints curiously at you, scanning your figure.
She was trying to reading you, you could tell. You knew you weren't really an open book, and also you were well aware that she knows you don't talk much unless talked to, so it was probably strange to her that you of all people came up to her to start up a conversation.
"Do you need help with the work?" She questions, her gaze fixated on you in a way that almost makes you feel small, but you knew better.
"Um, no, I just..." You blink in confusion, trying to think of anything to say.
It was hard having conversations with people you barely knew. The only reason you were friends with Cindy was because she literally forcing herself to become your friend, which did end up going well for you. But, overall, you weren't a people person and it was obvious, painfully so.
"I know you from Peter." You grimace, and she nods slowly, noticing your delay.
Michelle gives you a long look, a look that you could interpret as a dubious gaze, one that said she didn't quite believe the words coming out your mouth. You weren't lying, you had known her from Peter, so you really had not understood why she was looking at you like you were the world's worst liar.
You lie, but you would never lie about Peter, unless you had to.
"From the stalking perspective or because you actually made the efforts to get to know him?" You think you hear her ask, you're not entirely sure, so you blink, watching the girl's face, her eyebrow raised as she awaited your answer.
"I'm sorry?" You quiz, hoping she'd repeat the question you knew you heard right.
"I said did he tell you I needed more friends?" Michelle was calm and collected, her face almost mocking you at your delusions.
You were out of your mind, it was to the point you were hearing things that weren't actually being said.
Granted, there was a certain possibility the girl had said that and you deluded yourself into believing that's not exactly what she said, hence why you had her repeat the question she asked. There was also a possibility she changed her words for your sake.
You knew you had to get rid of her.
"Not exactly.." You trail off, your mind drifted into different possible scenarios.
"Peter," You bite back a smile when his name rolls of your tongue. "Invited me to sit with him at lunch and I know you sometimes sit with him and his friend so, just trying to make friends with his friends." You tell her, hoping to cover up your growing anxiety.
"We're hardly friends." Michelle could almost laugh at your bold assumption.
If the girl wasn't so observant, you'd let out a breath of relief at that knowledge. Your body visibly relax.
Honestly, you had no idea what to say next. You wanted to say anything, but nothing came to mind. Michelle was probably the most difficult person (aside from Peter), to talk to. You wondered if Peter considered her a friend, and that thought alone did not sit well with you.
"Oh."
"Yeah, but guess it's cool he finally had the courage to talk to you." Michelle says, and this time you know you had heard her right.
Your eyes widen in the slightest, but still highly obvious way, at her words. It wasn't right to feel this amount of joy over a sentence, but you had been waiting for this confirmation for awhile.
He finally had the courage to talk to you.
Before you could ask the girl what she meant, the bell rings and you're happiness is replaced with anger, Michelle is quick to pack her things and rush out the door, and you watch her from the window of the classroom, thinking about her words over and over again.
This was probably unhealthy, very unhealthy in fact, to think such thoughts that rushed into your head. But, no, this, this was a clear sign from the possible god above.
Peter had the courage to talk to you, which meant he had some sort of romantic feelings toward you, a stark contrast from your intense feelings for him. You couldn't believe you had not noticed the signs. Maybe because you had not had the courage yourself to talk to him, and it really flew over your head of how he could possibly develop feelings for you if you watch his every move like a hawk.
Okay, maybe not all the time, but on a occasion you would gaze at him, because you loved his face, it was memorized, tattooed in your brain. Had Peter finally come to his sense that you and him belonged together? Maybe he had knew it was you all along who sent him those gifts, which made him fall in love with you even more, the poor boy just didn't know how to approach you.
Whatever it may be, you would delude yourself with the possibility of Peter having romantic feelings for you, because it was lunch time, which meant you got to sit with him, he had asked you to and it would be a crime to deny that offer from Peter.
-
You couldn't see it. Actually, you refused to believe it.
Peter Parker is such an unbelievable, incredible, pure soul. You needed and wanted to corrupt him, not in the same way you did with Michelle, no, you wanted to break his innocence, let him see the world for what it truly was.
He had this facade, you could tell, that the world was all sunshine and unicorns, it annoyed you. Of course, he could be masking his own sadness, which didn't sit well with you. Peter being unhappy made your heart ache in the worst ways possible. You knew that if there was any chance of the two of you becoming two souls and one heart, you had to decrypt his positive mindset.
Though, you love that about him, it wouldn't get him anywhere in life. You had to make him see that.
The lunch was admittedly, amazing. Despite your reluctance toward his friend(s), Ned was a pretty decent person, and in the future, you knew it would benefit you if you became friends with his friends, because that's what he wants.
Ned is an easy to talk to kind of boy, and he makes you laugh, a genuine laugh, sometimes you force it if you didn't understand the joke he told, for Peter's sake.
Peter on the other hand, really didn't spare you any glances unless he was talking to the entire table, and you found it weird, he had this sort of fearful glint in his eyes each time he made eye contact with you. You were worried, couldn't read him right to have an understanding as of why he was staring at you like you committed murder and swore him to secrecy.
Maybe it was because you were awfully quiet the whole lunch period, only laughing whenever Ned said something 'funny'. Truth be told, you had no faith in your voice to conjure up a proper sentence starter, so you relied on the table, and if the topic was in your interest, you'd voice your opinion.
None of that happened, Peter fiddled with his hands nervously, like he had something he wanted to say but couldn't word it right.
At some point Michelle had come over, and he eased up from the tension he felt, which didn't go unnoticed by you, your brain ticked in irritation.
"So, uh, what did you get on your science quiz, Ned?" Peter questioned randomly. Ned was on the topic of something Star Wars related, so it confused you, but you ignored it, picking at your food.
"I dunno, dude. We literally just took it." Ned points out and you glance up curiously, just in time to see Peter give Ned a wide eyed look before catching your gaze and showing you a tight lipped smile.
You don't reciprocate it, continuing to stare at him with a blank expression. Now you could see what was going on.
It wasn't that Peter had liked you, now you doubt that very much, he had felt bad for you because you had no friends, which wasn't true, you had one. Not only that, but there was this small itching, aching, feeling that he had some sense in the know of your activities, which involved him.
Maybe not all of them, but the stalking, possibly, the gifts, probably, and that's all you know he was maybe well aware of. It didn't take a genius to figure it out, but it did take a lot of backtracking to figure out when and where he had realized you were being a creep.
Or, you could be thinking into this too much, but you're and over thinker, so you're sure that the thing Michelle had definitely said was true, and she made sure to make Peter well aware of it.
It would explain why he was so nervous when asking you to sit with him at lunch, and why the boy was so uneasy when you resided at the lunch table.
You had to get away from the trio before confirmation could be made, so you throw your plastic fork on the tray of untouched food, quickly getting up from the lunch table.
"Wait, wher-, where are you going?" Peter was frantic, and you turn around, just because it was him, seeing all three of them stare curiously at you.
"I have, something to do?" You tell him, and you know it sounds more like a question, but you didn't care.
Michelle shares an unconvinced look with Ned, who tries his best to hide it, Peter glances at his female friend for help, and she shrugs before going back to her book, ironically titled, 'Notice'.
Fuck, now you knew they knew.
Peter's mouth opens, but now you're long gone. You had no idea how you could let this happen. You thought were thorough and careful, you made sure of it. It was Michelle, it had to have been.
You wanted to curse Peter for becoming friends with such an annoyingly observant person. You couldn't, and you knew that.
Despite him knowing about your stalking habits, you weren't going to let him know you knew. You were going pretend, and become the worst version of yourself you had always feared.
Just because Peter knows, doesn't mean you were going to stop, you just had to be extra careful now. You were going to make him come to a realization that you do what you do because you love him. Peter will come to his senses and soon love you.
You just had to eradicate the obstacles in his life.
part two???
#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#peter parker smut#dark!reader#dark!reader x peter parker
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sugar and vice, pt. 8 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]
summary: This is quite possibly the worst idea she's ever had.
words: 3.9 k
warning: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. descriptions of medical emergencies, hospitals. drug use. coersion. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.
this is a darker, messier version of TASM Peter.
18+. you’re responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if you don't know anyone who ever stayed out past midnight for a Harry Potter release party, then maybe you should wait to read this.
Back to Part 7.
Part 8
Honey had been lost in thought all morning. Her stomach felt like it was twisted into a pretzel. Anxiety gripped her. And she hadn’t even been in Peter’s presence for the last two hours.
Instead, she carefully loaded the dishwasher, playing Tetris to try to fit the items in just right. She hated when things were packed unevenly. She almost lost a job as a grocery bagger because of it. Everything had a place, and it felt so relieving to find where they fit.
This had been her third attempt at loading the dishwasher. She should start it soon. Then she could get to work on taking apart and cleaning the espresso machine. Although she was fairly certain that she’d been the only one that had ever used it.
She felt her muscles lock up as Peter entered the kitchen from the side door. This time, he wasn’t alone. Eddie Brock, or one-way cupcake guy as she referred to him, followed him in. The men looked tense.
Peter looked like he was sweating, which was odd given the chilly temperature outside. His hair had lost it’s form and was more of a wild mess, having been ravaged by fretting fingers. He tugged at the knot of his tie, shifting around like his shirt was too itchy. Honey instinctively attempted to avoid his gaze, but it was unnecessary. It was as if he refused to look at her.
“Somethin’ came up,” he announced to the whole kitchen. She glanced around just to make sure his only audience was her and the kitchen appliances.
He slapped his long fingers across his mouth, scratching his beard. “I, uh, I-I gotta go into the city for a bit,” he explained, only making eye contact briefly. “Take care of some stuff.”
She dug a thumb into her palm, nodding wordlessly.
Her heart raced faster at the thought of what he’d take care of, and whether or not it involved assassinating an elected official. She also considered how strange it was to receive information about his schedule. He was checking in with her, telling her he’d be gone. How oddly domestic.
“Um, look, Eddie’s gonna stick around, make sure you’re okay,” he explained. The other man’s head snapped up, shooting a stunned glance at Peter. Clearly, it was news to Eddie.
“You serious?” Eddie groaned. “I’m a babysitter now?”
Peter glared at him, and the other man dropped the attitude. “I’ll send Miles’ along tonight,” the boss countered. “I’m sure you can hold out ‘til then, yeah?”
He gulped hard. Peter’s eyes were burning through him. “Right.”
Honey stood quietly, watching the interaction between the two men. She thought about speaking up, arguing that she didn’t need a babysitter. But after everything, she just wanted to be as far away from Peter and his ‘business’ as possible.
As if he could hear her thinking too loudly, Peter turned to her next. He leveled his gaze towards her, eyes dark as night. “You good?” he asked. She nodded quickly, squirming under his sight. He stared right into her soul. “Good,” he said softly, after a pause. He hesitated, focused on her with a tense, suspicious look.
“Be good,” he added.
His voice was soft, but the comment was dangerous. It was a warning. It loomed over them with a threatening presence, like a swirling, funnel poking out of a midsummer wall cloud. She bit her lower lip as he turned on his heel and rushed out, his commandment cast down like a god.
Then he was gone. Out of sight. But both of them felt a chill in his wake, as if his gaze was truly omniscient.
Hours passed. If there was one thing Honey was not great with, it was too much time. Too much time allowed her to think. It allowed her to stew. Obsess over the same thoughts, dragging them through her brain until the edges were sharp enough to slice.
She rested on her back on the couch, staring up at a book in her hands. Good Bones by Maggie Smith. She had read it before. Most of it. Almost made it through to the end. Typical.
She was forced to delegate herself to short stories and poems. Long novels were too difficult to follow. She’d get too caught up in the details and end up reading the same page over and over. It made English class her least favorite subject, which confounded her mother since supposedly she spoke English.
She thought about Maggie Smith and how Professor McGonagall really was the unsung hero of the Harry Potter books, which she hadn’t read. Not that this Maggie Smith was the same. She knew that. Or she thought so. Probably.
And that was it. She’d lost her place again. Sighing heavily, she slapped the book closed.
Sitting up, she peered over from her position on the sofa to see Eddie rummaging through the refrigerator.
“Whatcha lookin’ for?” she called.
“Somethin’ to eat,” he grumbled. “Guy’s probably a millionaire, doesn’t he have anything besides Lunchables in his fridge?”
“There’s some stuff for a salad—”
“I don’t need a salad,” Eddie grumbled to himself. “I need food. Meat. Wings. Like... 49 wings. Or churros, maybe.” She raised a brow at this. Eddie pulled open the freezer door, no doubt spotting the pint of ice cream. “Victory!” he cheered beneath his breath, withholding an elated fist-pump. He pulled open the carton, grabbed a spoon, and dug in like a man starved. Skipped the bowl and ate straight out of the tub.
Curious and bored, she wandered over to the kitchen and sat across from him at the bar. The sounds he made while he ate reverberated in the kitchen. It was disgusting, to be honest.
He could feel her eyes on him. Judging. “You wan’some?” he stared back at her, annoyed, ice cream dripping from his mouth.
“No,” Honey replied, wiping the offending look off her face. “I’m... I’m good.” It also bothered her that he was eating directly from the carton. It bothered her that he expected her to want to share. That would be like licking the same spoon. He was already halfway finished with the carton, however, so it was likely there wouldn’t be anything left to argue over.
“So...” Her voice trailed off, pleasantly trying to fill the silence. “How long have you been in crime?”
He stopped mid-bite. “You’re, uh... new here, aren’cha?”
She blushed. Always an outsider. It shouldn’t have bothered her that she didn’t fit in, but it did. “Is it that obvious?” she responded, somewhat offended. “How d’you know? I could be a mobster. A mob-lady.”
“Okay, first of all, nobody says that,” he scoffed with a smirk, good-natured about his teasing. He dropped the spoon in the empty carton, leaving it on the counter. She eyed it. Expectantly. And also, conversely impressed.
“Don’t you get brain-freeze?”
“Gotta big appetite,” he answered idly. Belched. “Pardon.”
She watched the beefy man wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. She studied him curiously, just as she did at the party. He was the hardest to figure out. He’d kept to himself mostly. Talked to himself, too, she noted.
Eddie stepped up to the counter, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a tiny glass vial filled with some kind of oregano, opening the jar and sniffing it. He reached into the other pocket, retrieving a small packet of beige paper squares.
It occurred to her suddenly that what was in the jar was probably not oregano.
Curiously, she watched him pack the delicate cannabis flower into a round metal tin. He twisted the lid, causing it to spill out into a fine, green powder. Meticulously, he tapped the pulverized plant into one of the wrapping papers, lining it up perfectly.
He’d peek up at her every once in a while, biting back mild irritation that she was watching him hawkishly, like they were at a Hibachi restaurant. Once he was finished wrapping and sealing the joint, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a lighter. Lit up. Inhaled deeply. Blew out a pillar of smoke, body and mind relaxing.
She ogled, eyes wide. That would explain his insatiable appetite, she thought.
“You want a hit?” Eddie offered, taking the joint from his lips and reaching it out to her.
“Oh,” she blinked owlishly, staring at the burning bud. “No. No, I don’t do drugs. I-I mean, I haven’t done drugs.”
He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, good job just sayin’ no, Nancy Reagan.” She blushed, biting her lip. Eddie course-corrected, softer, “What I meant is ‘do you want to try it now?’”
Eyes like saucers, she stared at the joint like it was a giant, twisting roller coaster she was about to board. “I shouldn’t,” she answered shyly.
Eddie shrugged, putting the joint back in between his lips. “Okay.”
Stuttering, she added, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer! It’s just… sometimes, I get—like my brain is moving really fast and I think—if I… y’know— what if I wig out, like I start seeing things, and start ranting and raving about being abducted by aliens?”
“Were you abducted by aliens?” He said it seriously, with a full measure of concern.
She blinked. “Not that I am aware...?”
“You’d know.” He took a long drag. “So you’re sayin’ you get anxious? Worried about it makin’ you more anxious, or paranoid. That all depends on the strain. In my experience, it has the opposite effect. Helps me relax.”
“How does that work?”
“My anxiety, or the strain?”
“Both…?”
“Different strains produce different effects. Depends on the strain and your brain chemistry.”
“I didn’t know there were different strains. Like different types—is it like an organic versus not organic thing? With pesticides and stuff? Is that bad? Do you use pesticides, or are you all-natural? I mean, not you, but your weed… um, farmer. Is that more expensive if it’s organic? Like… farm-to-table?”
Eddie let out a long billow of smoke. Red eyes taking stock of her. Reading. Pondering. “I’m also a nervous eater,” he answered.
She nodded, mouth forming an O in response.
They gazed at one another for several seconds, before she added, asking “What’s your take on those Danish butter cookies they sell in those round metal tins?”
He took another puff. “The ones that look like rings taste the best.”
Her eyes lit up, filled with renewed fervor. “Right?! I know! Everyone says I’m crazy and says they all taste the same.”
“Bullshit.”
“Exactly! Thank you!” she heaved a huge sigh of relief, which was utterly inappropriate for the situation to anyone outside of her own head.
“The rings are my fourth favorite cookie type. Maybe my third.”
Her head tilted. “What’s your favorite?”
He blew out another pillar of smoke. “Peanut butter.”
Her eyes darted over to the pantry door across the kitchen. She’d taken full stock of the contents the morning she made breakfast. The tiny smile on her face faltered for a just moment, her wheels spinning.
There it was. Her way out.
Her eyes drifted back to Eddie, as he enjoyed another drag. She licked her lips, and tried to steady her voice.
“I can make some?” she replied, with a glimmer of hope in her voice.
Eddie froze. His eyes wide.
Peter was out of control. He couldn’t even remember how he got there. It was like teleportation. He blinked and was somewhere else.
Chest heaving, sweat beading at his brow, he only had a vague idea of where he was. A warehouse near the East River. He could smell it. He had less of an understanding of what he was doing there.
It wasn’t until he saw the looks on the faces of Miguel, Noir, and Hobie did he begin to suspect that something very bad had transpired.
“Christ, Pete…” he heard Miguel mutter beneath his breath.
Peter followed his line of sight to see a broken, barely-breathing body at his feet. Broken in the sense that it was no longer shaped like a human. Instead it was a crimson-coated mass, a wheezing, sloppily-folded lump of bloody clothes.
Blood was everywhere. Soaked the concrete. Coated the inside of Peter’s nostrils. Splattered across his black leather shoes. His breath hitched at the sight. Gaze trailing to his sticky hands, clutching a twisted tire iron. Warm viscera dripped from the end.
He shuddered, finding it hard to breathe. Like he was drowning. Like blood coated his throat and lungs. Tiny droplets ran down his face like raindrops on a window pane.
An inhuman groan left the pile of broken man at his feet. Not inhuman in the sense that he’d been born an animal, but in the sense that anything resembling a human had been beaten out of him. He was no longer person-shaped. His being alive was a cruelty at this point. Every ragged breath was a curse.
Peter stepped back away from the destroyed body, tearing onyx eyes from the sight. Seeing the way his men stared back at him— horrified— monster— psycho— parasite— maniac— infection— was equally sickening. He pried each of his fingers away from the bent iron, uncurling the twisted metal from his grip.
“Put ‘em out of his misery,” Peter ordered coldly, swallowing back bile as he stepped away from the body.
Dazed, he drifted towards the entrance of the shipping terminal as if awakening from a dream. His legs were made of concrete. His head throbbed. Needles pierced his eyes. His stomach twisted and gurgled, and similarly drowned by nausea.
A single gunshot rang out from behind him and echoed off the metal siding of the surrounding containers. The noise made him wince, the sound causing physical pain that was like taking a cheese grater to his brain. He hissed in agony, and at the same time he relished in it. Wanted more of it. Needed it.
“Boss,” a breathless voice called out to him, stirring him from his haze. He looked over to see Felicia standing next to him, a pensive look on her face. How did he get outside? When did it get dark?
“Just get off the phone with Miles,” she said.
He tilted his head curiously. Whatever dread in her eyes wasn’t directed at him or his actions, and that surprised him as much as it terrified him.
“It’s your girl,” she grimly informed him. “She’s in an ambulance.”
Just like that.
Cut to black.
This was not a good plan. Not the worst plan Honey had ever come up with (there was that time she tried cutting her own bangs right before the Eighth Grade Graduation Dance), but it was certainly near the bottom. Impulsive, haphazard, and not well-thought out in the least, it was also fairly on brand.
Those were the things she thought as she was being wheeled into the emergency room of Indian Head Mountain Medical Center. Through red, bleary eyes, she caught a glimpse of a sign with the hospital logo and letters spelling ‘Woodstock, NY’ underneath it. That answered one question. Sort of, since she was unaware of how much time had passed in the ambulance.
It had taken about 30 minutes to locate and assemble the ingredients into plump, doughy, peanut buttery balls. She enlisted Eddie’s help to roll the dough, and showed him how to use a fork to make hash marks. He was both delighted and mesmerized by the action. Soothed, even.
His eyes were bulging with excitement as she explained that they were ready to go into the oven. (In reality, she would’ve let them chill in the refrigerator for about 2 hours and it secretly burned her up inside to rush the process and do a halfass job.) Any more waiting, however, and she was afraid she’d lose her nerve.
When Eddie took the first bite of one of her delicious peanut butter cookies, his eyes rolled up in his head with delight. Soon a big, dopey grin widened his face. He savored and swallowed each bite, drifting into a little slice of heaven. Seeing reactions to her treats had always been a rare highlight of working in the service industry. She loved it.
They were good cookies, she noted, her only complaint being she wished she’d had added more nutmeg.
About 4 minutes after taking the first bite, her lips began to tingle.
Within 20 minutes she was a heaving, coughing, snot-covered, teary-eyed mess on the floor, slipping into anaphylactic shock.
Eddie handled it well—
whattheshit are you shittin me are you playin stopplayinrightnow sweartogod is this a joke did fuckinjohnnystorm put you up to this fuuccck i am way too high toofuckinhigh for this shit ohmygoddontyoudieonme don’t you fuckin die he’llfuckinkillme are you playing tellmenow holyshitfuck
—as far as she could tell. Up until she started losing consciousness.
Once the epinephrine kicked in, she quickly lamented an unforeseen flaw in her plan. She hadn’t anticipated the amount of time it would take the swelling in her face to wear down.
“You’re almost there, honey, just stay with us,” a nurse reassured her, glancing down over the edge of the gurney railing to look her in her bloodshot eyes.
What’s with the nicknames? she wanted to ask.
Instead, she informed the nurse of her real name, and her current address, and her health insurance provider, who her emergency contact was, her blood type, and the small detail about being kidnapped by a mob boss.
She divulged all of that information, despite her tongue being the size of a soda can.
As such, it sounded more like, “adf meklp mef nii viin kehhaaaf nigh euh maa yahah gung an aire gaa hilla maaahuhh—”
“Just relax,” the nurse replied sweetly, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Try to save your breath, okay?”
Okay.
This wasn’t working. She was running out of time.
It took roughly 25 minutes for the additional antihistamine booster to kick in. Her vision had cleared and her breathing had returned to normal. Within the first 30 seconds of being left alone, she rose from the hospital bed, quietly switched off her machines, unhooked her IVs, and slipped away.
Four minutes later, in a different wing outside of the emergency room, she spotted a group of nurses exiting what appeared to be a break room. The rows of lockers inside confirmed her suspicion. She pulled open each unlocked locker door. On the tenth try, she found a gym bag.
Seven minutes later, she jogged through a back door of the hospital, wearing a pair of men’s joggers that were 10 inches too long for her legs, and an equally oversized NYU hoodie. The real treasures were the cell phone and wallet she was now in possession of.
She was bursting with energy, and it wasn’t just from steroids.
The act of escaping a safe house, then escaping an emergency room, then stealing a stranger’s possessions, made her feel not as bad as she would’ve imagined. If she was being honest with herself, she felt pretty good. Better than good. Somewhat invincible. There was a humming buzz beneath her skin, blood rushing and pumping through her body. A flush in her cheeks that hadn’t ever been there before. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird.
It probably wasn’t the epinephrine either.
“911, what is your emergency?” a female dispatcher said through the line. Twenty minutes and a mile and a half later, she was at a payphone near a bus station.
What’s the emergency? she thought. What is the emergency?
What a loaded question.
A cute boy she had been flirting with at work turned out to be a murderous, mafia ringleader, and had kidnapped her, held her prisoner in his luxury mountain retreat in the Catskills, and had recently divulged to her his plot to kill the Mayor of New York City.
Yes, she needed help, alright. She needed UNICEF. The Red Cross. The Salvation Army. The U.S. Army. Every army, all of them, right now. Send everyone.
“Ma’am, I need you to slow down. Just tell me where you are,” the voice on the other end replied.
Oh, shit. She said all that aloud?
She shuddered, finding it hard to breathe. Like she was drowning. She had only a vague understanding of where she was. Her brain and mouth were moving out of sync.
Eyes darting around, frenzied, expecting to find Peter standing behind her.
Not Peter, perhaps, but some roughneck caricature of a goon wearing a long overcoat and a fedora. Or a caricature of Peter wearing a long overcoat and a fedora. Would it be the monster, or her friend? Would he be Prince Charming or Scarface?
More terrifying, what if he was actually someone worse?
She paused, considering with worry. “No, listen to me! You need to get to 1630 Revello Drive, Apartment 2B, in-in Long Island City. Please!”
“Can you tell me your name?” the voice asked. She stopped her lips before any more words could come out.
The ghosts of Peter’s story haunted her mind, sending shivers down her spine. Without another word, she hung up the phone, staring at it like it had cursed her.
Peter was... troubled. Without a doubt. Emotionally dysfunctional, possibly. Batshit crazy, for sure. But was he wrong to be paranoid?
More terrifying, what if he was actually right?
A disheartening dread settled into her bones. Her limbs felt heavy, like they were made of concrete.
She needed to get home. Fast.
Four hours and 45 minutes later, after two buses, three trains, and the setting of the winter sun, she was standing across the street from the apartment building at 1630 Revello. She shivered in the freezing air, but not from the temperature. The quiet outside was nothing in comparison to the cacophony inside her mind.
She hated coming to this street.
The windows on the southern corner of the second story had its blinds closed tight. Warm light illuminated them from behind. She chewed her lip anxiously, trying to simultaneously talk herself into moving forward and running in the opposite direction.
The thought of the horrible fate suffered by Nasrin and Leyla compelled her to move forward. She inhaled sharply, trying to calm her racing pulse, and exhaled slowly. Took a step forward into the street. And another, and another, and another. Each one building confidence that she didn’t have before. Each one a reminder of where she had been and how far she had come.
Forward. Always forward.
Forward.
Until the tires of a black Chevy Tahoe screeched to a stop an arm’s length in front of her, nearly hitting her. Stunned by almost having been run over by an SUV—pay attention to what you’re doing, stupid girl — her feet rooted to the ground. Indignation quickly took over, as she glowered at the vehicle furiously.
“Watch where you’re goin’!” she barked with a tone she wasn’t used to hearing coming from herself. Her chest puffed up, and she felt like she’d grown half a foot in stature.
The driver of the vehicle, a dark-skinned man in his 30s, with his curly hair styled neatly into a short fro, simply glared at her through the window. She shot daggers at him with her stare. The newfound boldness she possessed suggested she should drag him out of the vehicle and give him a piece of her mind.
Until the rear door opened.
The man that emerged rendered her motionless. Rendered her useless. Helpless. Heart pounding. Muscles locking in place. Throat seizing up. Anaphylaxis all over again.
She couldn’t run. She couldn’t scream. The monster she fought so hard to escape had found her.
“Heya, sweetheart,” her husband sneered, tone dripping with malice. “Long time, no see.”
Continue to Part 9
a/n this one is a shortie, but a goodie. or is it? you tell me. what do you think? just a heads up, the next few chapters are going to deal with some heavy stuff. make sure you read the warnings! love you all, and thank you thank you thank you for your amazing notes!
reblog to be tagged! (since there are over 100 of you its hard to keep track). if i missed you, let me know!
#Lizzy writes.#Lizzy writes! sugar and vice#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker au#peter parker angst#Peter parker smut#dark peter parker#mob peter parker#peter parker x oc#mafia au#mob au#tasm peter parker#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker x you#tasm peter parker x oc#andrew garfield au#andrew garfield peter parker x reader#andrew garfield spiderman#andrew garfield x reader#peter parker andrew garfield#andrew garfield smut#andrew garfield#the amazing spider man#the amazing spiderman#spider man au#spider man smut#tasm au#tasm smut#tasm spiderman
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if you're too shy then let me know.
so i had a dream and i had to write it.
CW. Overstimulation, non-con, dub-con, self word non stablished, innocent reader, dark!spider man, perv!peter parker, creampie, oral sex (male and female), fingering, masturbating (male), sir kink, public sex, exhibitionist kink, multiple orgasms. let me know if i missed one.
Peter always thought he liked Gwen Stacy. It was only fair, it was right, it felt right. She was smart, pretty and charismatic, she always seemed to understand him and she was a strong, independent woman.
But just when he was thinking on asking her out, on start working, building the friendship into something else, he met you, and you were the prettiest little thing he has ever seen, and wanting you just felt right, even more than wanting Gwen.
Thought the feeling was different, he knew he loved Gwen, she was his best friend, and being by her side, in any situation, made the universe's path seem correct. But he wanted you, he wanted you like he has never want someone, it burned his skin and it didn't allow him to sleep at nights.
"Umh, hello?" You said, a sunday night while walking outside the store, Peter knew you saw him, at least Spider-Man, he was standing close to the alley and that was the first time he saw you. "Are you going to hurt me?"
You questioned, far too innocent fom the city of Brooklyn wickedness, he wanted to, you seemed too pure, too cute for the darkness of the night and he wanted to bruise your skin, put you against the wall and make you beg for him to stop.
As soon as that thought invaded his mind, he thought how many more could think of that, and he felt the need to protect you, at least from others.
He and Gwen befriended you, your faculty was near to Gwen's and you crossed paths when you almost throw her final project. You couldn't stop apologizing, wanting to get smaller and disappear, but Gwen just smiled at you and invited you for lunch, as she thought you were incredibly cute as well.
"Peter, this is my new friend... Y/N" the blonde girl smiled, and Peter could swear he might die from the cute smile and the little wave you used to greet him.
"Hi" He said "I'm Peter Parker"
As time passed by, you became close with both of them, and one afternoon you said, out of the blue, gaining concerned looks from Gwen and embarrassment took over Peter's body when she looked at him.
"This boy has been follow me lately" You started, 'lately' meaning since you moved to Brooklyn "He wears a red and blue suit, I think I've seen him on the news but..." you stopped "I don't think it's him because he's supposed to be a hero, a friendly person, and the boy following me scares me"
You continue eating, as if what you said wasn't concerning, as if it happened every day; "Peter..." Gwen said, between her teeth.
"Maybe there's two of them" He said, his hands sweating at Gwen's deep stare "The good one and an impostor"
That made sense, at least for you, but Gwen knew better.
"I should ask the good one for help, to take the bad one away" You said, and then you opened your eyes, as if what you just said was unacceptable "Not in a bad way" You pout "I just don't want him following me"
Where did Peter got someone to dress as Spider-Man so he could 'fight' him and pretend he saved you wasn't what was concerning, which was even more unbelievable was your ability to believe everything people would say to you.
"You alright, sweetheart?" Spider-Man asked you once the other ran away "Did he hurt you?"
You shook your head and look at Spider-Man with big doe eyes, thanking him with the sparkles in your eyes and trying to catch your breath.
"Good" He continued "Now... How're you gonna repay me?"
It came out too mischievous, too perverted for anyone's liking but you, he did something for you, the least you could do was paying for his actions.
"I– I don't know, sir" You started, tears assuming through your eyes because your pockets were empty and you were just carrying your daddy's credit card "I don't have money on me but I promise you, mr. Spider-Man, I would pay you as soon as I have cash on me, I'll– I'll even pay interests"
You rambled and Peter chuckled, finding you ridiculously cute.
"Princess... no, I don't ask for money"
"No?" He shakes his head "Then...?"
"Last time, an old woman gave me a chocolate pie"
"But I don't bake" You pouted, and his hand traveled to your chin, caressing your lower lip with his thumb and you felt shivers traveling down your spine. "Sir?"
"Yeah" He breathed "I like sir, call me that, princess" You frown, not understanding. "I'm gonna go easy on you, alright?" You nod "Just because you're so pretty" He continues, and you blush, his hand goes to his mask and lifts it a little, enough to show his lips, and even thought they seemed familiar for you, you didn't give it a second thought, most people looked alike in New York. "Gonna kiss you"
And you panic, because you've never kiss someone before, you swallowed your lips and he looked at you, or at least you thought for how he moved his head, the white eyes of the mask going from your lips to your eyes.
"I've never kiss someone" You let out, and you don't know why you felt suddenly ashamed.
"No one has ever touch those lips" You shake your head, lips inside your mouth again "Well, today's your lucky day, princess. Who better than your hero"
And you knew he was right, something told you he was making a point. A kiss should be shared between people who love, who care for each other, and if Spider-Man took the time to save you, took the time to still be here, to wait until your body stopped shaking, it was because he cared for you.
"You love me?" You asked, looking at his pretty puffy lips, pink and small, you smiled.
"Yeah" He said, not thinking it twice, chuckling. Maybe he didn't love you, love you, not like he loves Gwen, not like he loves but may, but he loved the way your body looked tiny next to him, he loved the idea of how gigantic his cock would look once he puts it against your cunt. So yes, he loved you too. "How could I not? You're so pretty"
Peter was waiting for you to say something, in reality he just wanted to act, he wanted to take you right there, rip your clothes off in the middle of the night, knowing the cold October breeze would invade your body, but it didn't matter, because he was gonna fuck you so hard, you would get warm with his horny body. For a minute, consent started to feel overrated, just a factor made to lose time.
He finally kiss you, taking your silent as a clue to do so, knowing you were too shy to say 'yes', too shy to let him know you wanted that too. He must as well just fuck you straight away since you would never verbally allow him to. Too timid, too innocent to even know what sex what, or at least he got turned on by that thought.
His lips smashed against yours, he wetted your lower lip, biting it when he was about to pull away, suddenly deciding it wasn't enough. He needed to be inside of you one way or another, so when you gasped at the bit, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, causing your eyes to open and your hands travel to his chest, pulling him away or at least trying to do such thing.
His hand went to your neck and hold it a bit tight, closing his fist more every time you tried to pull away, a few seconds after, tears were asking your eyes to let them go and you were whimpering, crying, for Spider-Man to stop.
"You' alright there, doll?" He asked, pulling away and taking your hand in his, looking at your teary eyes and your red neck "What's wrong?"
"Couldn't breathe" You say in a thin, broken voice "Wanted to stop but you wouldn't let me"
"Oh!" He faked worry "I'm so sorry, doll, you just looked so pretty I couldn't stop myself" And it was like he knew he would get away with everything just with that nickname, you're favorite word, it sounded so good coming from his lips, so honest and soft, so pretty. "Are you mad?"
You shake your head and look at him, putting your hands back in your neck, not knowing why your pussy was tickling. Not knowing if it was right how much you liked it.
"No, sir" You answered with a small smile, cleaning your skirt and looking at him again "Thank you"
"I don't think that bad, mean man would bother you again, doll. Might stick around sometimes to take care of you, alright? Don't get scare" He smiles, but you can't see it "Doll, don't tell anyone, right? Everyone would want to kiss Spider-Man and I can't go kissing every girl I save, can I?" You shake your head "Not when I have you"
You nod with a smile and walk out of the alley, Peter's eyes glued to your back, making sure you get back home safely.
★
You start the next morning feeling new. You shared your first kiss with none other than Brooklyn superhero, and he speeded the whole kiss reminding you how pretty you were.
You arrived school with a smile, the world seemed pink and for some reason any problem could bother you. Gwen complimented your sudden radiation of happiness;
"Nor that you didn't look happy, you always look happy..." she started "But you look radiant today"
Peter just nodded, as if he didn't know, but the thing was, you liked the kiss, and he felt happy for that.
There was a party that weekend, you wanted to attend and meet new people, the event which usually would pass by the two of them, was attended.
Gwen wouldn't let go of your hand, always thinking if she drops it you would get lost. And in Gwen's mind, you loosing them in the crowded club was the worst think that could happened to the United Stated of America.
"Peter, what's wrong with you?" Gwen asked, turning to see him and then at you, examining your face for any sign that you wanted to leave "You're awfully quiet"
Peter chucked, nervously "Parties are not my thing" He shrugged.
"Yeah, I know, but Y/N's having a good time" She turned around to see you, still holding your hand, trying to get away, inside the crowd of people dancing. "That's good"
Peter nodded, and his eyes couldn't help but travel to your ass, your skirt seemed to get shorter today, your graphic shirt tighter and you were wearing leather boots instead of the usual snickers.
How could he act nonchalantly when he couldn't stop thinking about you, about putting your skirt up and fucking you in any surface he could find. He would even take you right there if he had the chance.
★
"Peter I lost, Y/N" Gwen arrived next to him, panicking "She was standing next to me then I went for drinks and then she was gone"
"What do you mean you lost her?" He says, looking at the blonde girl "Like a child?" She nods "Alright, let's look for her. Take a look around the club I'll see outside"
Gwen nodded and walked away from Peter, Peter, who saw you walking through the back door a few seconds before, who saw you hugging his jacket trying to warm your body.
Peter who left through the front door, taking advantage of the darkness to start taking his clothes off and pulling his mask on his face. Peter who was about to rail you on the club's parking lot.
Would you like him to fuck you? And more important, would you want him to fuck you?
It was echoing his mind, but it was far too late now, he knew your opinion couldn't import less, he needed it.
"Sir?"
You called when you distinguished the red and blue suit. He nods, walking close to you.
"What're you doing by your own here, doll?" He asks, caressing your cheek and smiling at how you pressed your face against his palm "It's dangerous"
"Inside felt weird" You said, opening your eyes and looking at him "I wanted some air"
He nods and without you noticing he sends a web to the door. Starting to breath heavy, pulling his mask up with desperation and taking your face more aggressive than the last time. You try to protests, but your words are shouted by a surprised gasp when he puts you on top of the nearest car and his hands make their way down your skirt, without leaving your lips.
You try to fight back but his hold gets tighter, his hand moves faster through the fabric of your panties and he stops his touch to pull up your shirt, your bare chest on display for him and you start to complain when he leaves your lips to put your breast inside his mouth.
"Sir?" You asked, scared "What're you doing?"
But he didn't answer, just pulls your arm, making you bend over the car, your cheek against the cold white metal of the Mercedes and letting out a gasp by the froze sensation traveling through the skin of your sensitive titties.
"Please, no"
You cry when your ass is exposed, your skirt pulled up and Peter big hands touching you, putting your underwear aside and kissing your inner thighs.
"Don't fight it, bunny" He says softly, as if what he was doing was right "I'm making you feel good, don't you want that?"
And yes, you wanted, but this didn't feel right. It made you feel dirty, it made you feel so bad it was almost good.
"Your pretty pussy's all wet for me, darling. Doesn't it feel good?" He whispers "You know what pussy is?"
You nod, because you weren't that oblivious, what you didn't know was why it started to feel wet.
Peter licks his fingers and pass them through your folds, making you quiver and cry, it hurts when he puts his finger inside, your walls stretching the two long and slim fingers and his cock hardens at the thought, because if his scrawny fingers felt like that, how would his cock feel.
"You're pussy's so tight, bunny. Fuck it feels too good"
He starts to move fasters, your cries are beginning yo mix with moans and your whispered 'stop's' doesn't seem to register through Peter's ears, ignoring how violently your body starts shaking and how you seem out of breath.
He kneels to kiss your cunt, his tongue making its way through your folds and his hand grabbing your ass. He takes off the Spider-Man suit as fast as he can and frees his cock, starting to stroke his cock with his fingers inside of you.
"Do you like how Spider-Man makes you feel, baby?"
"Stop, sir, please. S'not right" You cry.
"But it is, baby. It's just right, it's what people who love each other do, didn't you say you loved me?" He pouts, and you catch a glimpse of his lips quivering; "Were you lying?"
You shake your hand, tears leaving your eyes because it felt wrong and you made Spider-Man sad.
"Love you" You moan, trying to make him feel better.
"Oh, baby" He moans, taking his cock and spanking your ass with it "Love you more"
He wanted to be careful, the thought was present on him since before he got out of the club, but he was so horny, he needed to put it inside of you right away, so he did, ignoring your hurtful cries and how you tried to climb on the car to get away from him.
He took your hips, thrusting deeper into you, slowly, because he wasn't a monster after all.
"Hurts, sir"
You cry, and he feels his cock harden, the look of your teary eyes, mascara streaming down your face and hands in your back. He cummed inside once, the first of the night he thought, and you felt a sudden peace when his warm cum traveled your walls.
"Sir?"
"That's my cum, doll" He starts, taking your body and flipping you, lowering his face to your cunt and smiling at how the white sticky fluid was trying to scape your pussy "S' like medics" He continued "Gonna make you feel better, alright?"
And you, full of ignorance, nod, exhaling and maintaining your back up with your hands. Peter starts to lick your folds again, wildly, like he was starving, he dingers it, moving his hand like an expert and sucking your clit, making you squirm uncontrollably, looking at him with mouth open, moaning, crying, because you don't know what it's happening to your body and if what you felt was right or wrong.
It feel... strange, your stomach was tickling and you didn't know why or how but something made you feel like you wanted, no, needed, more.
Your legs hug Peter's head and he smiles, taking your tights and deepening his tongue inside of you, you throw back your head and Peters pulls away, starting to finger you fast, making you feel exactly what you needed.
"Sir..." You say, in a whisper, almost in a moan "Feels weird"
And he smiles without stopping his fingers, holding your legs open every time you wanted to close them, "How weird, bunny?"
"Wanna pee"
You cry in embarrassment and plead for him to let you go to the bathroom, gaining a 'no' every time you asked him to stop. He doesn't think about it twice when he feels you cumming, a scandalous moan leaving your lips that made you almost feel ashamed, but you didn't even knew what a moan was, or how it should sound.
Peter opens your legs and slicks his –again– hard cock inside of you, feeling the cold breeze between you both and if it wasn't because Peter Parker was your friend, he would've take the mask off right there. His cock in thrusting into you while his fingers are circling your clit, you hug his torso with your legs and let your back collapse into the car, opening them like a reflex.
Peter takes his cock out and kisses your swollen pussy once more, fingering you now with three fingers, taking advantage of the stretching his cock did. You couldn't hold still, your body squirming at a violent motion, trying to pull him away from you with your tiny little weak hand, which had nothing against Spider-Man's big and strong body.
One of your legs was moving on the air and the other was feeling the cold metal against your skin, extending and distending at the overstimulation.
You couldn't take it anymore, your cries should advert Peter of it, your tired voice and your shaking body, but he had much more cum to go.
"Let's go, princess" He says softly "You can go more, I know you can, your body is begging me for it"
But your body couldn't beg, you weren't even aware it could talk, but today you discovered your body knew what you wanted even before you could think of it, much before you could even process what was happening, because even if your mind seemed oblivious to what was happening, your body knew what it needed.
"I'm gonna let you all full with my cum, baby. You'll get back to your friends with my cum stuffed in your pretty pussy" He says, thrusting into you again, holding your leg up and taking your hand to put it in your clit. You look at him in horror "Move it, princess. How you want it doesn't matter, make yourself feel good"
"That's a sin" You whisper, scare of the mere word, he smirks and shook his head; "S' alright, Spider-Man's asking you to do it"
"Is fine if Spider-Man asks?"
"Oh, baby" He moans "Everything's alright if Spider-Man asks you for it"
And with that, a small part of your mind telling you to feel dirty disappeared. You move your hand as he ordered and he still thrusting into you, He stops your hand to take both of your legs and takes them to his shoulders, making you scream and now it was pure pleasure.
Your body felt good, and you didn't want to prive yourself from the pleasure, but you wanted him to stop. Because this doesn't feel right.
Peter pulls your hand and makes you sit, getting close to him and kissing your lips, making you think that maybe it wasn't that bad after all, because everything was right if you were sharing a kiss.
"You're so fucking pretty" He moans, guiding your leg to his shoulder again and grabbing your hair, pulling you closer to him and kissing you, like he knew you were needing that assurance,
You stop thinking for a moment and just get stuck in the kiss, moaning in his lips for how close you were, for how good it feel, it was almost understandable this felt wrong in your mind, dirty, because if you were having any remorse you couldn't possibly stop doing this.
Peter hugs you and holds you close, hiding his face in your neck and thrusting violently into you, confident in what he was doing.
You cry, and you weren't sure if it was because you felt tired or because you felt so overwhelmed. Now Peter grabs your neck, closing his fist around your skin and smirking with his face close to you.
"Who's the prettiest girl in Brooklyn?" He asks, earning a smile from you "You– fuck..." he thrusts "You are, princess. Such a pretty fucking baby" He says, kissing your nose and leaning to whisper in your ear "You're such a pretty tiny little thing"
And with that he cums inside of you again, flipping you and letting your hips to start bouncing in his cock, watching as your body tries to get close to him so he could thrust deeper; "God, I turned you into a whore" He chuckles and you moan.
"Alright, my cute pretty whore, gonna make you feel even better, right? Gonna cum again?" He asks, chuckling because he knows, he knows you have no idea what cum means.
"I want your mouth, baby" He says, pulling your body and sitting you on the concrete of the street, leaning his cock to your face "Open"
He says, and since he said everything was valid if Spider-Man asks you for it, you open your mouth wide, he has to do all the work, you're clueless to what you're doing, gagging when in the hear of the moment Peter puts his cock deeper, feeling your throat close and the air wasn't entering your body.
And that was it.
You put your hands in his pelvis, pulling him away from you, feeling suffocated and your stomach upset.
You can't tell him to stop, you're chocking in his cock and the tears on your face don't seem to concern him, he's enjoying how your soft lips feel around his cock and how your small throat hugs him. You almost choke when your nose meets his pubic bone and a few seconds later he finally lets you go, you crawl away from him, trying to win back the air you lost.
Your chest moves up and down quickly, your eyes filled with terror and Peter takes your hair, pulling you to him again, stroking his cock while you cry and he opens your mouth with his big and strong hand since you refused to do such thing for him, finally coming undone inside your mouth.
"Swallow, baby doll"
You're crying, and you flinch back when he tries to touch you again, Peter in exchange puts his hands up and walks back, allowing you to stand up and fix your clothes, panicking installing in your body.
"You alright, bunny?" He asks nonchalantly, as if you weren't wishing you were dead, as if you didn't feel like dying just minutes ago. "Can I help you?"
"No!" You yell, taking Peter's –your friend Peter– jacket, covering you with it in an attempt to feel protected. "Please, no"
You whisper, and he just puts the suit on. Leaving a kiss on your cheek before you flinched back and swinging away from you.
★
"Y/N, oh, Jesus Christ" Peter yelled as soon as he saw you leaving the parking lot "What the fu– what're you doing here, alone, we were worried sick" He says, examining your body and swallowing his smirk when he smells your pussy full of cum. Finally he hugs you "Don't do this to us, sweetheart, we were concerned about you"
"Sorry" You say, your voice sounding small and broken, feeling like you wanted to cry, feeling the shame hugging your body because how were you suppose to tell your best friend Spider-fucking-Man railed you there, in the parking lot, outside with the people walking by the street. "Didn't mean to"
You pout and he smiles, vanishing it with his thumb and kissing your forehead "S' everything alright?" He wonders and you want to tell him, but it doesn't feel like something you should extern, because you don't want Peter treating you any different. "Was someone with you?"
You nod, hiding your face in his chest "Spider-Man?"
You tell him in a whisper, your words sounding like a whisper, scared Peter wouldn't believe you, scared that he would get mad; "The mean one?"
"I don't know"
#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker x reader#peter parker fic#peter parker smut#peter parker imagine#peter parker oneshot#peter parker blurb#peter parker x you#spider man x y/n#spider man x you#spider man smut#spider man x reader#spider man fanfiction#spider man angst#peter parker angst#dark!peter parker#dark!spider man#cw. dubcon#cw. noncon
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