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cherienymphe · 4 months

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Basic Training XVII (Peter Parker x Reader)

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

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

➥ series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter killed Michelle.

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

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

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

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

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

…and you thought you loved him.

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

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

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

Besides, Peter wasn’t the aggrieved party.

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

Bucky now felt wronged by you.

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

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

It only made your heart ache, now.

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

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

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

All you wanted was for him to hold you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are they going to do to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head.

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

Peter sadly tilted his head, and your lips quivered.

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

You continued before Peter could lie some more.

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

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

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

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

“You made me love you.”

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

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

You squeezed your eyes shut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave her right there.”

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

That was a mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry-.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no. You don’t get up yet…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His whispered words made you frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whenever you’re ready.”

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

Your comeuppance.

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

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

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

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

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…because you didn’t want the alternative either.

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

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

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

Or maybe it was everything else that did that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve really hated you.

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

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

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

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

“That ends today…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Steve, alright, I get it-!”

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

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

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

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

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

You watched Peter defeatedly exhale, eyes falling closed.

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

“Steve…”

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

“I will make you, Peter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter had flipped you onto your stomach, now.

“Is if he treats you like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

You felt torn apart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…but you did.

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

You understood it all, and you hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, you nodded.

Peter’s nose grazed your own.

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

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

“I never wanted this for you.”

…and you knew Peter was telling the truth.

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

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 8 months

Text

Perfect Family

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

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

More at Masterlist

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

WARNINGS: Babytrapping; Toxic relationship; Birth control Tampering.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t abandon Peter anymore.

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

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

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere avengers #yandere marvel #yandere peter parker #dark marvel #dark peter parker #dark peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #yandere!peter parker #yandere!peter parker x reader #tw: yandere #tw: birth control tampering #tw: baby trapping #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw.baby trapping

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princessbellecerise · 11 months

Text

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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shayyprasad · 2 months

Text

faults | peter parker

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

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

pairing: dark!peter x fem!reader

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

check out my masterlist!

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

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

(first person)

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

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

only now was i regretting this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

not just someone.

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

lovely. absolutely lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"c'mon."

"wait, i—"

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

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

he groaned, rolling his eyes. "buzzkill."

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

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

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

wait, what?

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

"um, okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"drink it. all of it."

"yes, mom."

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

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

"look at me," he whispered.

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

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

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

"do what?" he stared dumbly.

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

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

"well, i- you just kissed me?"

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

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

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

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

"well-"

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

"pe-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i was scared.

peter was scaring me.

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

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

"oh my god, what did you do?"

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

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

"this is your fault, y/n."

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

right?

taglist!

@whatsupstark

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #fluff #angst #tom holland x you #peter parker imagine #dark!peter parker #dark!fic #tw noncon #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker x reader

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yichuuonvenus · 1 month

Text

The Willow Maid

Dark!Peter Parker x Reader

~Description~

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

~Warnings~

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

You were enchanting…

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

Your hair always seemed to shine in the moonlight.

Just like right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew he had to try again.

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Days went by.

Then weeks.

Then months…

He was nowhere to be found.

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

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

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

Oh how wrong you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Relax… my maiden relax,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m freeing you, my dear maiden.”

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

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

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

His final thought was only of you.

At least his body would remain close to you.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you

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prettybabybaby · 2 years

Text

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.

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fairyparker · 2 years

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

- - -

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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harryspet · 2 years

Text

butterfly kisses | p.parker

[Warnings] dark!grey!peter parker x reader, innocent!little!reader, daddy!caregiver!peter, dominant x submissive, blackwidow!reader, avengers compound/young avengers au, ddlg, age regression, oral sex (female recieving), dubcon!! sex, mental manipulation, reader has ptsd, grooming?, unprotected sex, little editing

A/N: [model in banner is @/enchanted_noir, gif credit to @/defendingwarrior]

In which Peter finds out your little secret and takes advantage.

word count: 5.3k

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayonegg-blog @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan @doozywoozy @oneoftheprettynerds @xoxonotme @winterbuckystan1917 @simpformarvelmenandwoman @hallecarey1

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Yelena was practically unstoppable, giving both Bucky and Sam a run for their money. She was faster than them, leaving them spinning whenever she rushed past them. They thought they had her at one point, Bucky’s vibranium arm wrapping around her neck. She was quick to bring her elbow back into his chest and then her fist to his groin. Bucky doubled over but Sam quickly approached with fists raised. She seemed to land all her punches but also take each one that Sam landed with the most grace you’d ever witnessed.

She tried to trip him, kicking her legs behind his own, but he brought her down with him. They rolled together before he had her pinned beneath him. She thrusted her lower body up, weakening his stance, before grabbing his own arm, pushing it against his chest and pushing him into the mat. As Sam’s head hit the ground hard, he’d clearly accepted defeat.

“The groin shots are cheap, Belova!” Bucky was still reeling in pain. She eyed you, a tired smirk on her face, as she took in her victory.

“It’s only fair. You’ve got a hundred pounds on me and I’ve got the ability to kick you in the balls,” You smiled at her words, watching as Yelena helped Sam off the ground.

You heard footsteps beside you and soon you were looking to your left as Peter Parker claimed the space beside you, “Did you see that?” The question became rhetorical as you noticed his wide eyes and the way he was staring at Yelena, “That was just the third round. So far Yelena’s in the lead.”

“Damn,” Peter cursed though it wasn’t very intimidating on his lips. You only really saw him as the kind, sweet guy who charitably helped you and Yelena adjust after moving to the new compound, “Are you gonna go next?”

You instantly shook your head although you realized your answer might seem strange considering the sports bra and leggings you were wearing. You’d put on workout clothes but hadn’t quite gotten the courage up to train yet, “Yelena is way better hand to hand than me,” It wasn’t a lie but you’d spent your entire life training hand to hand. You grew up in The Red Rom just like she had and were trained by the exact same people. You’d gone toe to toe with Yelena as well and you used to be able to hold your own with her.

The look on Peter’s face was curious, like he wanted to know more, but he didn’t press the specific topic, “I was gonna box and I’m in need of a sparring partner if you’d like to help me out,” That didn’t give you much room to turn him down so you nodded hesitantly.

You hadn’t told anyone, only Yelena vaguely knew how much you were frightened of the training room. This place wasn’t at all like the Red Room, you weren’t being beaten or mind controlled into submission. Despite all that, you were afraid of going into survival mode and never being able to escape it again.

“It’ll be low pressure, I’m way less intense than those guys,” Peter continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, as if he sensed your unease, “Plus, I need way more practice fighting without the webs. I get so used to being in the air sometimes that I forget how to manage on my feet.”

You followed him to the wall on the far right that held all the equipment. You eyed a set of white, 12 ounce fighting gloves but Peter stopped you before you could grab them, “First, jump rope,” He held two sets of jump rope in his hand. One set black and the other green, “What color?”

“I like green,” You admitted and that seemed to amuse him.

“Y/N!” You heard your name shouted across the room. You turned to see Yelena wrapping a towel around her neck, water bottle in hand, “I’m gonna go pass out but movie night later with Kate?”

You raised your thumb, “Enjoy your nap, I’ll see you later!”

“Enjoy Peter, I’ll see you later,” She winked very badly before she turned on her heel.

You turned back to Peter, your face warm with embarrassment, “She’s funny,” Peter commented.

“When she’s not being annoying,” You responded, taking both handles of the rope and stretching it out before you, “Annoyingly clever and annoyingly good at everything.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “I heard Miss Nat recommended you both for positions in the new Avengers initiative.”

You shrugged, “So?”

“So, that means you’re probably annoyingly clever and good at everything too. You just haven’t shown everyone yet.”

“Maybe so,” Those words were all you’d give up to him. He probably had a point but this environment didn’t really allow for deep thinking for you. You thought you might turn around at any moment and see rows and rows of brainwashed agents behind you.

You followed his lead and his pace as he began to skip the rope. You weren’t in your best shape, you could feel it already, but you were keeping up. At first, you regretted choosing to stand directly in front of him but the eye contact slowly became less awkward, “This is kinda easy, Peter” You admitted.

“How. Are you. Speaking. So Easily?” Peter spoke through gasping breaths. Soon, you were increasing your pace as you felt you could go faster. You ended up going way faster than Peter, spinning in circles, as you tried cool tricks.

Peter was trying to keep up with your pace but eventually he had to stop, holding on to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. You slowed down soon after, not wanting to be any more of a show off, “So I was right,” He decided, “You’re good at that.”

You hated the work you used to do but you were reminded of how much you liked the adrenaline rush that came with being physically active. You were far from how you used to be but perhaps the world didn’t need another trained killer, just someone trying her best.

After your warm up, you and Peter went on to actual boxing. You went back and forth with one person holding the punching mitts while the other practiced combinations. This exercise reminded you of the time you lost to one of the other widows in a sparring match. You were taught the importance of being fast on your feet so your opponents blows can’t land effective blows as well as how to land an effective blow despite having a short reach. She made you chase her around the mat, exhausting you, so she could overtake you.

The punishment for the loser was always for every other widow to form a line and one by one land a punch to the loser’s stomach. You remembered the different colors of bruises that your stomach turned and how your mouth tasted like blood for days. The times when you were forced to hurt someone else were even more imprinted in your mind.

Peter realized you weren’t giving it your all, your mind clearly having gone elsewhere, “Hey, hey,” He put down his hands, closing the gap between you. As he came closer, and despite the kind look on his face, your anxiety went through your roof, “What’s wrong? That was good!”

You nodded, “Yeah, I-I just got distracted . . . sorry.”

“That’s okay. You wanna take a break?” You were already taking off your gloves.

“I think that’s enough for me today,” You spoke curtly, stepping away from him. You knew you’d start hyperventilating soon and you didn’t want anyone to see the person you turned into when you were stressed, “Thanks for this, P-Peter!”

His concerned eyes were on you as you walked, a little too fast, away from him.

“Yelena! I told you I didn’t want to watch this!” You pushed her shoulder as she maniacally giggled. After a jumpscare, you’d completely spilled your bowl of pretzels and M&M’s which Kate was now on the floor cleaning up.

“What? That wasn’t even scary!”

You didn’t understand how a movie about a party clown killing a bunch of school aged children wasn’t nightmare material. Kate clearly didn’t like the movie either but she wasn’t nearly as skittish as you, “I’m picking next time,” Kate announced, “Something we would all actually like.”

“No fun,” Yelena pouted, rolling herself off of your bed. You all rotated who would host movie nights and tonight it took place in your room. You were always an accommodating host, having crochet each of the girls their own special blankets, and lined your dresser with bowls of their favorite snacks. Fairly lights flicker above your bed but the cozy nature of your room served as a sharp contrast to the movie you watched on the screen mounted across the room.

“I want something romantic,” You argued, “Maybe a rom com or a historical romance like Pride and Prejudice.”

Yelena rolled her eyes.

“How about a romantic thriller?” Kate asked you, ignoring the blonde assassin’s usual behavior. You nodded eagerly, “Okay, cool. I’ll do some research!”

“I think it’s time for me to turn in,” Yelena faked a yawn.

Kate grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the door, “C’mon grumpy. Night, Y/N!”

You waved her goodbye, hearing Yelena shout as she was dragged out of the room, suddenly chipper again, “Night, Y/N!”

You enjoyed spending time with your friends especially now that you and Yelena had become so close to Kate. When they were gone, you missed their company but you knew you needed your nights to yourself. You began your nightly routine, switching the TV from the credits of a horror movie to the Disney logo.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Lock bedroom door, please,” After hearing the click of the lock, you released a deep breath, “And run a bath, please.”

You cleaned up any remnants of your friends, folding up their blankets and placing them inside the ottoman near your couch. You kept all the tools for your regression in a secret compartment of your closet. You knew it was unlikely that someone would go rummaging through your personal belongings but you liked the security of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s system.

Picking out pajamas for yourself, you chose a pink, care bear onesie and pink socks. You laid it out on your bed before getting undressed. When you finally got to sink into the bath, you felt the stresses of the day melt away. It was a bubble bath, of course, and you loved the mindless task of constructing figures with them and giving yourself mustaches and crowns.

You were already slipping into your headspace. You’d desperately wanted to be here especially after training with Peter.

After your bath, you were now trying to practice your skin care in front of the mirror. For years, you barely looked at yourself in the mirror, thinking it would be easier to live with yourself if you dehumanized yourself as much as possible. It was rare that you’d let your eyes wander to your lower stomach where you could see the straight incision scar that traveled from beneath your belly button to your public area. Your own exposure therapy didn’t seem to be working as tears sprung in your eyes everytime.

You left the bathroom, deciding that you’d braid your hair into a protective style without a mirror. You dressed in your pajamas, grabbing your favorite stuffed animal, a green frog, and burrowing yourself into your sheets. Tinkerbell was playing on the television and at the end of the movie, when Tinkerbell helps bring spring to the mainland, almost always helped sink you into your headspace even deeper.

It was the middle of the night and you should’ve been sleeping but you had a craving for ice cream. You’d set a rule that you’d always stay in your room when you were in little space but little you often had a mind of her own. You padded to the door, softly asking Friday to open the door, before you checked if the coast was clear. In your pink socks, you tiptoed to the kitchen, holding Prince Naveen close to your chest.

The compound was quiet and you assumed each of the other Avengers were either fast asleep or keeping to themselves. You never knew Tony Stark but you were quite grateful for his technology … and his money. You weren’t sure what kind of life you’d be able to make for yourself if you didn’t have this opportunity.

You rummaged through the freezer, finding a half-eaten container of sherbert ice cream. The color was pink like your onesie so it was a no brainer that you’d choose this to dig into. You shut the freezer before finding a big spoon in one of the drawers. You climbed onto the kitchen counter, making yourself comfortable, as you began to dig in.

“Y/N?” You perked up to see a brown eyed boy staring at you from across the kitchen. He was dressed in a compression shirt and sweatpants, the former highlighting an extremely muscular chest and arms. His figure was even more exaggerated as he crossed his arms. He grinned at you, taking in your appearance, “Is this something Yelena made you wear?”

You frowned, confused, “I’m Love-a-lot Bear.”

Peter looked even more confused than you, “Oh . . . and who’s this guy?” He came closer and you felt a bit annoyed that he was interrupting your ice cream eating. You scooped a bite into your mouth, kicking your legs in happiness as you tasted the deliciousness.

You looked down at the frog stuffie sitting beside you, “Prince Naveen. He got turned into a frog but I’m taking care of him.”

“Like in that movie …” He raised an eyebrow.

You nodded, “Princess and the Frog. Have you seen it?”

“Once, I think.”

“I’ve seen it about …” You calculated it in your mind, “Fifty-four times. I can quote it word by word. Do you want to hear? The Evening Star is shining bright, so make a wish and hold on tight, there's magic in the air tonight-” You began to sing but Peter shushed you as your voice got louder.

“You’re gonna wake everyone up,” He whispered and you looked down, cross eyed at the finger that was now pressed against your lips. You nodded and he slowly removed it.

“Oops,” You whispered, “Why is everyone sleeping when there’s ice cream to eat?”

“Y/N … did something happen to you?”

You shrugged, other more pressing things occupying your thoughts, “I don’t think so … I just wanted ice cream. I better get going because I left all my other stuffies and they can get into trouble when I’m not watching them. Plus, I’m watching all the Tinker Bell movies.”

You hopped off the counter, “Do you want to come?” You felt like you could trust him and that’s why you wrapped one of your hands in his. He didn’t answer with words but he followed you, grabbing your frog that you almost left behind, as you led him to your room, “What’s your name?”

“You don’t remember?” You looked at him with innocent eyes, “Peter, my name’s Peter.”

“Like Peter Pan?” You smiled.

“Yeah, like Peter Pan.”

Peter paid close attention as you introduced him to each one of your stuffed animals. Each one had a name and a short backstory. You told him how you liked to get a new one every time you were in the city. Before he saw your room, Peter never would’ve guessed you’d like any of this stuff. You were quieter and more humble than Yelena but Peter knew you were just as strong. He wasn’t sure why you were acting this way but he wouldn’t deny a chance to get closer to you.

You also explained the entire Tinker Bell franchise to him, introducing him to every character and the politics of Pixie Hollow, “Did you grow up watching these movies?”

You shook your head, yawning, before you rested your head on his shoulder. The two of you sat closely on the couch, your legs sprawled over Peter’s lap, “I didn’t get to be smaller… for a long time. I like being like this, Peter.” Of course you weren’t watching Disney movies growing up as a little girl in the Red Room, Peter suddenly realized. Peter’s mind was reeling, not truly understanding how you seemed to be a completely different person.

You fell asleep soon and Peter knew he couldn’t spend the night here. He couldn’t risk someone seeing him coming out of your room and he certainly didn’t want the other version of you waking up with him in the bed. This version of you didn’t seem to recognize him so would you even remember he was here?

Peter carried you to your bed, tucking you in, and placing your favorite frog in your arms. He held your cheek in his hands, feeling the soft skin there, and admired the features on your face. He liked you before he’d known just how innocent you could be. He imagined your hand in his again, he could still feel the softness of your hands and the warmness in his heart.

Peter wanted to grow to love you.

The next morning, Peter was working in the lab with Bruce. He’d skipped breakfast, not sure if he was ready to face you after what happened last night. You’d gone from sparring partners to cuddle buddies so quickly that Peter was worried he’d imagined the entire thing last night, “Mr. Banner, sir?”

The man looked up from his laptop, “Yeah, Peter?”

“What do you know about trauma responses?”

“I’m not a psychologist, Peter,” He folded his arms, his eyebrows scrunched on his forehead.

“But you’re a genius, right?”

Bruce gave him an amused look, “Why are you thinking about trauma responses?”

“Well … would it make sense for someone who went through a traumatic event … or had a traumatic life, for them to sort of revert back to a younger age.”

“Age regression?” Peter nodded as Bruce caught on, “I’d consider it a coping mechanism maybe for illnesses like PTSD. I’ve seen it used as a therapy technique. It allows the person to go back to an earlier state that may have been less traumatizing for them. I imagine this could be voluntary or involuntary depending on the case.”

Peter sat with his words for a moment, “And how do you think someone could . . . help another person that’s age regressing.”

“If it’s a good coping mechanism that’s working for them, I imagine any kind of support would be good. Being there for that person, however they need. Hopefully they get outside support from a mental health specialist for whatever is causing the regression,” Peter nodded, “You’ve met someone like this.”

“Uhm . . . yeah,” Peter answered, “Someone I met in the city while playing Spiderman. It’s not a big deal. I’m just curious.”

Bruce didn’t push the subject further.

Your work was interrupted by Kate knocking on the glass door that led into the room. Both you and Yelena were standing behind her and you seemed to be laughing and talking together, “Pete, we’re going to the city! You coming?” Kate shouted through the glass.

“You all have got a big mission tomorrow,” Bruce warned, not looking up from his laptop.

“We’ll probably be back before late,” Peter stood from his seat, a mischievous look on his face, “No worries.”

Bruce hummed as if he wasn’t sure that he believed the young Avenger.

“I’m sorry I ran out of training so fast,” Peter was shocked to hear you say. You were sitting beside each other on the train, an awkward situation that Yelena and Kate had arranged themselves, “I get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“Right,” Peter nodded nervously, “It’s okay. I get overwhelmed sometimes too, you know.”

“Really?”

It really seemed that you hadn’t remembered him being with you last night. Peter half expected to see you in a onesie again, chatting away about Disney movies and desserts again. Instead, you were dressed like a normal, twenty-something who was going to the city with her friends.

“Yeah, sometimes I’ll see something or hear something that reminds me of my Aunt … or Mr. Stark, and it doesn’t matter what I’m doing, I just feel like I’m gonna hyperventilate. Like I can’t get air properly into my lungs and I start sweating … and I just get irritable and not fun to be around. And when it’s over, I just feel embarrassed.”

Something flickered in your eyes, something like understanding, “I get embarrassed too. I suppose it’s just a chemical thing. Fight or flight, I mean. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You’re probably right,” Peter’s smile was weak, “It’s just hard losing people.”

You nodded in agreement, “It’s hard not having anyone to lose.”

Peter wondered if you remembered the family that you were taken from. Peter even wondered if you considered looking for them, “Friends are just as important as family sometimes. It’s good that you have Yelena and Kate.”

“That’s true. Maybe we should be better friends, Peter,” Peter’s eyes turned to you quickly, a bit of wonderment on his face, “If you want, I mean.”

“Hell yeah,” Peter spoke a little quickly but he was encouraged by the warm smile that grew on your face, “I have places around Queens I want to show you guys.”

Peter showed you all where he grew up and the four of you enjoyed sandwiches from Delmar’s for lunch. Next, Peter wanted to show you guys his favorite part of Queens. The museums. Initially, Yelena took a hard stance that going to museums would be boring but even she was entertained by the cool exhibits at the science museum Peter showed you around.

You and Peter talked so much. Much more than either of you expected. You were practically glued to his lip just the same way Kate was always glued to Yelena.

You went to an art museum next, joining an already established tour group in the middle of their own tour. Peter watched you walking around the gift shop in wonderment at all the handmade knick knacks that were for sale in order to support the museum. Peter approached you, a gift bag in hand, “I got you something.”

“What?” You blurted out, confusion evident in your features, “You don’t need to-”

“Just look,” Peter pulled out the miniature figurine he’d just purchased. It was of a small green frog sitting underneath a red mushroom for shade.

Your eyes widened, “Oh, Peter!” You took the figurine carefully in your hands, your voice going up several octaves as excitement filled you, “It’s so beautiful! Look at the little mushroom! How did you know I loved frogs?”

Peter lied, “I just thought you’d like it.”

“You really didn’t have to. I don’t deserve-”

“You do,” Peter assured you, “Keep it, please. It’s for you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you hugged him, “Thank you,” The way his hand pressed into your back sent shivers through you.

“Are you gonna take good care of it?” Peter knew his words came out slightly patronizing and he could tell he might’ve embarrassed you slightly but you nodded shyly in response.

“I will, I promise.”

When Peter knocked on your door a few nights later, the compound was quiet. All that he could see in the dark hallway were sparkling lights shining beneath your doorway. When the door opened, he was glad to see Smaller you, “Peter Pan,” You greeted him, your voice soft and sleepy, “Hi.”

“Hello, little one,” You looked pleased with the nickname, “Or should I call you princess?”

Peter closed the door behind him, taking in the fact that you were only in a white t-shirt, pale blue panties and fuzzy socks, “Both,” You angled your head at him, “But I’d like to be a fairy princess.”

“I should’ve known.” There was something so alluring about being with you in this state. It was like being with you at your most vulnerable state and Peter liked being the only one who knew about Smaller you, “What have you been doing up so late?”

There was no Disney movie playing tonight but F.R.I.D.A.Y. was playing a soft melody of classical music. Peter wondered why you’d made that choice. You grabbed his hand, bringing him over to your own desk to show him what you’d been working on, “Drawing,” You answered, showing him the array of papers, pushing the scatter crayons out of the way, “Look at these, Petey. Look.”

Two of the photos were quite familiar. One was a drawing of a small frog sitting beneath a mushroom and the other was two people standing together near what he assumed was an art exhibit. The girl was wearing a plaid shirt just like she had the other day and the boy was wearing a black jacket.

“It’s me and you,” Peter said.

“It is?” Your doe eyes looking up at him threatened to make him melt there on the spot, “Will you take me there?”

“Of course,” Peter agreed, “We’d look so cute together.”

“Yeah,” You beamed, “But I’d wear a pretty dress.”

“And I’d look like a frog in comparison. It would be perfect.”

“Don’t say that, Petey,” You squeezed his hand, “You look like . . . can I tell you a secret?”

Peter nodded and you motioned for him to lean down so you could whisper in his ear, “I think you like a handsome Prince.”

Peter chuckled at that, “Do you?” You nodded and Peter whispered into your ear next, “I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

You looked away shyly. You showed him the rest of the pictures and Peter encouraged you to put all the crayons back in the proper spot back in the carton.

“Are you ready for bed yet?” Peter asked you, “It’s getting really late.”

You frowned, “I don’t like sleep. Can we stay up? Maybe we can play pretend?”

“Why don’t you like to sleep?”

You just shook your head, letting go of Peter’s hand, so you could rummage through your closet and find something else to do, “We could play a card game!”

Peter faked a yawn, walking over to your bed, “I’m really tired, Y/N. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Or a board game!”

“I’ll just sleep and you can play a game. I have some special sleepy dust I got from a fairy friend of mine. It’s gonna help me sleep,” Peter climbed into the fluffy white sheets of your bed, knowing your words had definitely caught your attention, “I guess you won’t need any, princess.”

Peter heard your feet pad over to the bed, “You have a fairy friend?”

“Yeah. I went to outer space once and I met one,” Peter shrugged, “On their planet, lots of princesses and princes have trouble sleeping because they have nightmares.”

“Oh,” The look on your face was doleful, “I get bad dreams like all the time. Would it work on me?”

“C’mere and I’ll show you,” Peter patted the spot next to you. You were hesitant as you climbed in the bed with him, “Lay down on your back for me.”

You did as he said, laying on your back with your head resting against a pillow, “And close your eyes for me, little one.”

“But I’m scared-” Peter pressed his hand to your waist, looking up and down your body. Being so close to you with so little clothing … Peter’s idea turned darker than he originally intended it to be. He was helping you, that meant he could help himself a little too.

“I’m here, don’t worry,” As you slowly close your eyes, Peter took the opportunity to let his hands wander even further, “I’m going to sprinkle the dust over you now. Keep your eyes closed.”

Peter could feel you growing slightly impatient, “Petey, I don’t feel anything yet-”

“Of course you can’t feel anything yet, silly. I haven’t activated it yet,” Peter parted your legs, climbing over your body and settling between your legs, “I want you to call me something, okay? To help the fairy dust work.”

“What is it?”

“Call me Daddy.”

“But you’re not-”

“I am, I’m taking care of you, right?” You nodded, “Then that’s what you have to call me. Especially for the dust to work. Understand?”

“Okay … okay, Daddy,” The word couldn’t have sounded any better on your lips. Peter’s hard-on was already pressing against the fabric of his boxers. His fingers travel beneath your panties, softly feeling your folds. Before you could say another word, Peter’s lips were pressed to yours, swallowing your concerns and then eventually your whimpers.

Peter made his way down to your breasts, pulling your shirt up so they were exposed. He attacked the sensitive buds with his tongue, which seemed to bring you even more pleasure than the gentle fingering of your clit. He could feel you growing wetter, leading him to his fingers traveling to your sensitive hole.

“You’re so beautiful, princess,” Peter said as he kissed over your stomach, including the scar that brought you so much anguish, “Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Make you real sleepy.”

When Peter first slid your panties to the side and pressed his mouth to your hole, your eyes shot open, “Stay still, little one,” Peter spoke with his mouthful. You tried your best not to squirm as the touch brought you an overwhelming new feeling of pleasure.

You wanted to smile, to laugh, and to scream all the same time. It was his softness and wetness pressed against your own softness and wetness. He kissed you down there in a way that was difficult to describe but you could feel a slow build starting in your toes till it all completely rushed to your head. Your body was experiencing waves of pleasure and you were glad when he removed his mouth so you weren’t tortured further.

Peter watched you ride at the orgasm. He pulled down his sweatpants and boxers with urgencies before grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. He pressed his tip against your interest, his eyes looking darkly into yours as he slowly pushed inside, “Daddy,” You winced, “P-Peter – Daddy, it hurts!”

“I know, princess,” Peter grunted, “You can take it all, I know you can.”

Peter was right, you somehow stretched around him and that feeling of tearing soon subsided. Now, all you felt was completely full and completely at his mercy. You were trapped beneath him which meant he could set the pace for how fast he wanted to go. You started to only think of him inside you, of that primal pleasure that he was unlocking and the complete warmness that filled your skin.

“Oh, you feel fucking amazing,” Peter pressed his forehead to yours so he was as close to your as possible. You felt his own eyelashes fluttering against yours, “You feel so good. Tell Daddy you love it.”

“I–” A hard thrust, “Love it, Daddy. I-I love it.”

You were so tight. Impossibly tight. He had to remind himself to not spill over to fast and he slowed his pace but fucked you even harder. When he felt you tightening around him, he felt safe in releasing inside of you.

Your eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath. Peter fell beside you, and just like he’d promised, you felt like you could sleep for the next few days. Peter pulled the comforter over your body, pressing himself into your tired figure. He admired you closely, his nose rubbing against yours as his lips hovered above your own.

“I sleepy … Daddy …”

“Goodnight, little one.”

Peter laid there until dawn and all he could think about was how pretty you looked when you came.

#Dark Fic #dark fics #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #black!reader #little space #yelena belova #kate bishop #peter parker #dark!spiderman #mcu smut #peter parker smut #avengers smut

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years

Text

Title: In Forgetting

Summary: Peter 2 and Peter 3 have some advice for their younger counterpart on how exactly they manage to stay so heroic in the face of all the worst humanity—and more than humanity—has to offer.

Warnings: Dark, Noncon/Dubcon, Kidnapping, Drugging, Gaslighting, Breeding kink, Mean!Peter, Obsessive!Peter, Voyeurism, Oral (M Receiving), Anal, Smut, PWP, MINORS DNI!

A/N: omg i was not expecting to write this. it kind of all just… poured out. unbeata’d, unedited, but then again, most of my work is. i barely proofread this, i’m sorry. please enjoy! divider by @firefly-graphics

Swimming back to consciousness was like crawling through dark, sticky molasses. Your mouth tasted of cotton and copper, like you’d bitten your tongue days ago and never rinsed out the blood. Your body felt heavy, and even your breath felt labored, an uncomfortable, invisible weight resting on your chest.

Bleary eyed, you stared around the stark, empty room. It was reminiscent of a hotel; plain wooden furniture of little note, and nothing but plain, white walls. There was a large bay window overlooking the city on the other side of the room, lights twinkling far below you in the dark.

Where am I?

You couldn’t remember anything. Well, that wasn’t strictly true—you could remember bits and pieces of the night before, but not many. Clubbing with Tara and Amy—not really your scene, but you still enjoyed getting dressed up, being out. Neon lights flashed in your memory, and underneath the stale taste of old blood like pennies, you could still detect a hint of vodka on your breath, hear raised voices...

So what had happened after that?

Had you gone home with someone after having what had clearly amounted to too much to drink? Had you and the girls somehow booked yourselves into a hotel, drunk as skunks? You’d never really been one for alcohol fueled shenanigans, but… it was Tara’s going away party, perhaps she’d been able to convince you.

Either way, there wasn’t much of use in the pitch darkness of your mind’s eye, nothing useful to dredge up. You lifted a hand to your head, intending to brush the curls from your forehead as you sat up, but pressure at your wrists wouldn’t allow you to complete the movement. You looked down, your eyes widening as you took in the rope looped tightly around your wrist, anchoring it to the bedframe. It was white, sticky—like it was made of something other than cloth. A frantic tug at your other arm revealed the same restraints, and with a panicked breath, you began to scream.

“Help! Help, please, someone!” You pulled and pulled until your skin began to turn red. “I—I’m trapped, please!” Your voice cracked as you kicked at the sheets covering your legs, exposing your ripped stockings and bruised calves. The blue, babydoll dress you’d worn was dirty, like you’d fallen in it.

“Please!”

There was no answer. Only silence met your increasingly hoarse and panicked calls for help, the skin on your wrists turning raw and swollen as you pulled hard on your restraints. You weren’t sure how long it had been when the wall seemed to slide open like a door, hydraulic hinges hissing as it did so. It had to have been hours, evidenced by the puffy, burning marks on your arms and the sore ache in your throat.

“Help me,” you croaked. “Please.” The low, yellow lighting didn’t fully pierce the dim in the hall beyond the room you were in, but if you squinted, you could barely make out three figures, standing side by side in the doorway.

“Aww, Pete, look at her. She’s cute.” Something cold pricks at your spine at his words.

“He’s got good taste,” said another one, off to the left. “A little young for me, but I’m older than you guys, I think.” There was a clapping sound, like someone being patted on the back, accompanied by the soft exhale of breath.

“Thanks guys.”

One of the men stepped forward into the light, and rubbed the back of his neck before glancing back at the other two. “Hi. I’m Peter.” You recognized him instantly—this was the same handsome, smiling face that had been plastered all over the news for the past six months. Peter Parker.

He carded a hand through his curly, chestnut hair, before flashing a smile at you. It didn’t do anything other than fill you with cold dread—these three men had brought you here.

“I’m sorry you got so banged up, you fell, and—” He shook his head, cutting himself off. “Anyway, you’re here. That’s what’s important.”

“W-where is here?” You asked in a small voice. “Please, I—I just want to go home, Peter—”

“We all want to go home,” someone snapped at you from the doorway, the scowl evident in their voice. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Pete, come on,” Peter replies, and your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I’m just explaining things.” He turned back to you with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about him. Peter two’s a little… impatient.” He stepped closer to the bed, and your chest tightened with panic. You couldn’t run, couldn’t defend yourself—all you could do was lay there, your chest constricting as the realization dawned—

Trapped. Trapped like a rat.

A man stalked into the room, his arms crossed as he looked at you stoically. He was followed by another, who fixed you with a winning smile.

“What’d I say, Pete? Cute.”

They’re all Peter?

The newest addition smiled and winked at you, not breaking eye contact as he settled himself against the wall opposite you. He seemed more charismatic, more friendly than the other two, but there was still an icy sort of detachment behind his eyes that terrified you. You were a means to an end for all of them—but what end?

Peter one crouched in front of the bed, clasping his hands together. “Listen. I know waking up like this wasn’t fun. We hate seeing you so worked up, but, um, we need you.”

“Yeah,” Peter two added sarcastically. “You’re real important.”

You swallowed thickly. “Why?”

“It’s, well, it’s hard being a super hero,” Peter says quietly. “We have to stay focused, you understand that, don’t you? Can’t be distracted, I can’t have…” He trailed off for a moment, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I can’t be good if I’m distracted.”

The other Peters echoed him in a chorus of murmured agreement.

“No one understands,” Peter three added. “What it’s like, how heavy it all is… No ordinary relationship can withstand all that. We’ve all seen proof of that.” You didn’t know what he meant, but you didn’t ask—Peter two scared you most of all, the way his eyes raked hungrily down your prone form over and over again as soon as he’d entered the room.

Peter one pulled at the sheet you’d tangled your legs in, and you kicked at him. He dodged it easily, clucking his tongue at you. You whimpered as he caught your ankle in an iron grip, his fingers finding the runs in your stockings and tearing at them.

“Hey, hey. None of that. When this is over, you won’t even remember,” he chastised you. “Now just be relax. Maybe you’ll even like it.” You didn’t have full use of your arms, but you tried anyway, pulling at the thick, sticky webbing around your wrists until you smelled the copper of your own blood.

“Stop—Stop, no—” Through the alarm bells ringing in your mind, you could hear at least one other Peter laughing.

“She has fight,” he said. “I like that, but we don’t have time for it.” You felt another set of hands on you, turning your head. “Open up, sweetheart,” Peter two loomed over you, a slim, clear vial in his hand. You pressed your lips together tightly, and he smirked. “Fine by me.” He dug his fingers into your jaw, squeezing until the bones creaked and you gasped with pain. He held your mouth open, pouring the vial down your throat while you sputtered and coughed.

It tasted bitter and oily, but as you heaved, Peter three clapped his hand over your mouth, forcing you to swallow down the bitter concoction.

“What the fuck was that?” You spat, still trying ineffectually to kick at Peter one as he rolled your stockings down your legs, his hands warm on your thighs.

“Muscle relaxant. And a few other things,” Peter three answers for him. “I like a girl with a little… bite, but time’s of the essence today, pretty girl.” He tapped you on your nose with the pad of one finger as you gagged again. He winked. “Maybe next time.”

It’s effects were almost instantaneous; your head swimming, skin going hot and feverish as three pairs of hands pulled at your clothing. It feels like time has slowed to a trickle, and you struggle weakly as Peter three tugs at the webbing anchoring your wrists to the bedposts. Your head lolled as they leaned you forward, your head settling against Peter one’s chest. You weren’t sure when he’d taken his clothes off, and you can feel the vibration of his laughter against your cheek.

“What else did you put in there?” He asked, and though you couldn’t see Peter two, you could practically hear the shrug in his voice.

“Nothing permanent. Why?” Someone is unzipping your dress, pushing it forward over your shoulders.

“She’s flying,” Peter says softly, dragging a finger down your cheek. You could barely hold a thought in your head; it was almost impossible to hear yourself over the rush of blood in your veins, and the thunderous beat of your own heart. Your skin tingled where they touched you, and you whined at the feel of your arms being lifted over your head as they stripped you.

Peter one slid a finger underneath your chin, lifting it, and you looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes. “Say you want me to kiss you,” he said softly, his eyes dark and unreadable. There was part of you that wanted to lock your jaw tight, to say nothing—but your body wasn’t taking direction, not from you anyway. Your tongue felt thick and heavy in your mouth, and the words fell sluggishly from your lips, though you would have rather drawn them in and held them there until you suffocated.

“I wan’ you t’kiss me,” the words were clumsy, but he groaned anyway, pressing his mouth hungrily to yours. He tasted you eagerly, sucking on your tongue, nibbling your lips until he broke away with a heavy breath.

The warmth at your back, you discovered, was another body—Peter three—who hung his arm over your shoulder as he trailed a series of warm kisses up the side of your throat.

“How’s she taste, Pete?” He asked, dropping a hand to your breast to pluck at your nipple. “Sweet? She sounds sweet.” He sucked at your pulse point, worrying your flesh between his teeth while you whimpered. “Soft, too.”

Peter two grasped your hand, threading his fingers between your own. He guided it down between your bodies, wrapping your loose fingers around his cock. It was half-hard already, a sticky bead of precum hovering on the tip. Peter spread it with his thumb and gripped your hand in his, moving it up and down his shaft in smooth strokes.

Your head lolled back against Peter three’s shoulder, staring unseeingly at the ceiling as the two men moved your body how they saw fit. You caught sight of Peter two at the edge of the bed, his expression dark as he fisted his cock in his hand.

There were fingers sliding against your panties, pulling them aside to stroke at the lips of your cunt, gliding through the wetness growing there. Everything felt somehow both muddied and painfully clear, the pleasure cutting through the murk of your thoughts like a sharp knife. Dimly, you were aware that you were swimming in and out of consciousness; every time you opened your eyes it was like more time had passed in only an instant.

You blinked, and you were on your back, Peter three grinning cheekily at you from between your thighs. You tried to snap them shut around his head, but your body wouldn’t cooperate, your feeble struggle making him smile wider with amusement.

“No, don’ wanna,” you mumbled, and Peter two scoffed.

“No one asked.” There were more hands, turning your head, and the thick, leaking head of someone’s cock pressed against your lips. You whined in protest, but Peter two’s cold voice silenced you. “Open up. And if you bite me, I’ll break your jaw.” Your feeble denial was lost as he shoved his cock into your mouth as far as it would go, and you gagged wetly on it, spit dribbling down your chin.

Your breath hitched in your throat as Peter three suctioned his lips to your clit, sucking hard as your back arched. You gurgled out a sound around his cock, and Peter moaned, drawing out a little before thrusting back in. You managed to suck in a shallow breath around him, your eyes rolling as another Peter sank his tongue into your trembling core.

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” He panted, gripping your jaw as he forced his cock wetly into your throat. “And you know how I know?” He leaned over you, his hair falling into his eyes as he continued to push his hips against your face. “I didn’t even give you anything to make you like it.” Peter groaned as he bottomed out, the heavy weight of his sac resting against your chin. “That’s all you.”

Tears began leaking down your cheeks, though you weren’t sure if it was the cruelty of his words, tight shame coiling in your gut at the wet noise coming from between your legs as Peter three lapped at you. Warm tendrils of pleasure spread up your spine. You could barely breathe around the thickness of Peter two’s cock and your head was spinning. Peter three’s fingers poked at your entrance and you huffed through your teeth your hips bucking weakly.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” his praise rose from between your legs to burn shame into your cheeks, even as your cunt tightened around his fingers like a vice. “Knew you would, knew you’d taste like fucking heaven.” He slid into you with ease, curling his fingers against your pubic bone.

Spots dance on the edges of your vision as Peter two thrusts erratically into your mouth. It was the lack of air, and the thick weight of Peter’s fingers in your pussy that made you keen and convulse, your body trembling as you cum. Peter two cursed, his grip tightening on your jaw as he grunted low and stilled. His cock throbbed , and you could feel the thick, salty jets of his cum beating against your bruised throat. You thought you might pass out, but then he slipped from between your lips with a satisfied grunt.

Someone laughed—probably Peter one—as you gasped for air, tears still running freely down your cheeks. Peter three slapped your thigh and looked up at the other two.

“She should be ready now. Nice and relaxed.” You weren’t sure why that raised more alarms, your fuzzy brain attempting—and failing—to follow the clues. Arms looped underneath yours, pulling you up to your knees. You grumbled out your discomfort, only to be hushed as Peter one settled himself onto the wide bed. His cock was thick and leaking, the tip an angry red.

“Good. I can’t wait anymore,” he said, wrapping his hands around your hips. He tugged you forward, and if it wasn’t for him, you’d have fallen flat onto your face. Instead, Peter three helped lift your hips, and you whined as he sank you down onto the other man’s cock. He didn’t give you time to adjust to each agonizingly thick inch, either, and you let out a raspy sob when he was seated completely inside you.

Peter one’s fingers were pressing hard into the fleshy parts of your hips as he rolled his hips up into you, cursing. “Fucking tight—shit, do you, do you know how tight you are?” Maybe in another circumstance, the lustful awe on his face might have made your stomach tighten, but you were just conscious enough for it to make you hate him as as he drew pleasure from you as unwillingly as water from a stone.

Faintly, you were aware of your own pitiful mewls bouncing off of the walls, mingling with the slick, wet noise of Peter’s cock inside you. He pulled you down against his chest and you went gratefully, his arms circling around your back as he continued to lay into you. You let out a low, panicked moan as you felt thick, familiar fingers prod at the puckered hole of your ass. You tried to turn around, but Peter’s arms tightened around your middle, locking you in place, completely exposed as his cock slid in and out of you.

“Bet she’s tight here, too,” Peter three’s syrupy voice made you shudder. His fingers slid along the sopping folds of your cunt, skirting around Peter one’s cock as he gathered up your wetness. He spread it eagerly onto your hole like lube, and you squealed with discomfort as he began to press inside.

“No, no, Peter, no—” Peter one silenced you with a kiss, murmuring against your lips.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, just relax.” He swallowed down your pleas as Peter three’s fingers breached the tight, resistant ring of your ass. A whine escaped your throat as he pushed further, his way eased by the muscle relaxers Peter two had given you. He sank in all the way to the knuckle, wiggling his fingers as he groaned.

“Fu-uck.” He pumped a few times, his other palm cracking loudly across the meat of your ass before he slid his fingers out of you. You began to struggle as you felt him line his cock up with your unoccupied entrance, the slick head of him pushing against you.

You glanced up at tearfully, another sob tearing free from you as you caught sight of Peter two watching from the edge of the bed, his fist working steadily up and down his cock.

I’m never getting out of here, am I?

Air wheezed out between your tight lips as Peter three began to push forward. His intrusion was steady, slow, but unavoidable as Peter one locked you into place. You were being split in two, the unyielding thickness of both of them pressing into you, only a thin layer of skin separating them. You panted loudly as his hips came to rest against your own, your nails digging into the blanket beneath you.

“God, fuck, this is perfect,” Peter three rasped from behind you, wiggling his hips as he tried to force every available inch of himself into you.

The other Peter—which, you weren’t sure—grunted his assent as they began establishing a rhythm, one pulling out while the other slid home, keeping you full and off kilter. You weren’t sure when it began to feel good, when you started crying not for it to stop, but because you were going to cum again. Your cunt sucking and milking at both of them until their hips shuddered and you felt their warmth spill deep inside your appreciative body.

Much to your dismay, neither of them softened a single inch, grinning at each other over your heaving back. Peter one rolled his hips into yours, and the resounding wet squelch made you hide your face against his chest.

You couldn’t for long, though—Peter two’s fingers began prodding at your head, turning it to the side as his cock pressed insistently against your lips for a second time.

“Hurry up, you two,” he said as you reluctantly unlocked your jaw, allowing him to slip inside. “Strange texted—says the spell will be ready soon.”

Peter three made a displeased noise in the back of his throat. “Fuck. Well, we have time for one more, don’t we?”

Peter one’s lips curved against your ear.

“Sure we do.”

—

Three years later

The coffee shop was fairly busy, but that wasn’t really anything new, not for a Saturday morning. You were grateful to find a seat, your daughter Laila bouncing along beside you.

“I can have cookie this time, mom?” She asked, leaning up on her toes to look at the pastry display case.

“Of course, babe. Anything you want,” you replied, smiling down at her. “We just have to wait our turn.” She’d been born after a night you didn’t quite remember, the result of a drunken one night stand whose name and number you’d never taken down. Still, though, you loved her, and while it hadn’t been ideal, you were doing well on your own.

The man in front of you turned to face you, stepping aside with a smile. “No, please, go ahead. I’m still deciding,” he said, laughing a little as he rubbed the back of his neck. He was handsome, curly brown hair, high, handsome cheekbones, and warm familiar brown eyes. You were startled for a moment, trying to draw his name up from the depths of your memory, but you couldn’t.

I don’t… I don’t know this man.

“Oh, t-thanks,” you said, stepping around him. “Latte, please,” you told the barista, before winking down at Laila. “And a cookie.”

As she was wrapping it up, you went to pull out your wallet, but a warm hand on your own stopped you.

“Please, let me. I haven’t done my good samaritan thing in a while.” You were wary, for a moment, before dismissing it.

“Oh?” You let him hand the barista his card, glancing down at it. You didn’t catch the name, though, the gold lettering shining too bright in the sunlight. “Do you do this often? Buy strange women coffee?”

“Just the ones I think I might like to take to dinner,” he countered, offering you his hand. “I’m Peter, by the way,” he said, offering you a charming smile. “Peter Parker.”

fin

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cherienymphe · 1 year

Text

Basic Training Masterlist (Peter Parker x Reader)

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

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

III

VII

VIII

XII

XIII

XIV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

➯ dividers by @straywords

➥ Peter’s POV (after Ch. 11)

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel fanfiction #dark fic #dark peter parker

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 5 months

Text

New Dynamic

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

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

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Peter wants to start a life together but you seem awfully reluctant. He doesn’t like it.

WARNINGS: Toxic relationship; Manipulation.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

You’re in the kitchen, leaning over the counter as you cut some vegetables for dinner. You have your AirPods on, so you never heard the door opening nor do you see Peter pressed against the wall, work bag still in his hand as he lovingly gazes at you.

You look good, too good. Like you belong there, at his apartment, in his kitchen, making him dinner. It’s almost like a dream.

He quickly puts down the bag and silently reaches towards you, back hugging you. You practically jump from the small scare, but you relax as soon as you realize it’s just Peter.

Your adorable boyfriend.

Peter removes your ear pieces and presses a soft kiss on your cheek, his hug getting tighter.

“Hey there. How was your day, babe?” you ask, continuing your task. His fingers sneak towards the waistband of your leggings and you swear you can feel butterflies on your belly from his touch.

“Boring without you.” he replies, nuzzling your neck. You let out a giggle upon hearing his response and he gives your waist a small squeeze.

“I’m serious, without you my day was absolutely bland. Wishing I was here with you instead.” his voice sounds serious and you know he’s telling the truth.

He never lies to you, you know that.

“How was your day then?” He curiously asks. You shrug your shoulders, pulling away from him to place the vegetables on a pan.

“Also boring. Sent some job applications but haven’t gotten an answer yet.” your answer makes Peter frown, his arms crossing as he watches you work on dinner.

He knows exactly why you haven’t gotten any answers, he’s made sure to call each company to let them know that you’re no longer applying for the jobs but it’s a matter of time till someone reaches out to you with a job offer.

“My company has offered me the chance of working remotely from home. That means more time for us to be together. You’re always in the apartment and that way, so would I. I start Monday from home.” he casually drops the information, eyes carefully analyzing you.

“That’s awesome, babe! You’ll get to relax a bit.” you exclaim, rushing towards him to briefly hug him before returning to the stove.

“Yeah and I was also thinking that we should keep this dynamic, you know?” he mentions.

“What dynamic?” you absently ask, grabbing a spoon.

“Us together in the apartment. Me working and you doing the house chores. It’s a good balance.” you look at him with confusion.

“I mean, yeah but only until I find a job again.” you say, feeling a bit uneasy over the way Peter talks about this.

“But you really don’t have to. Find a new job, I mean. I can provide for both of us, you know that.” you almost drop the spoon, shocked at his words.

“No, Peter.”

“No? Why not?” he furrows his brows, annoyance tingling him. You don’t answer and he starts losing his patience at you.

“What? You don’t want us to spend time together, is that it?” he angrily throws and you involuntarily take a step behind.

“It’s not like that, Peter. I just… I don’t know.” you hesitate.

“You don’t know? Babe, this is a great chance to move on to the next step. Have a domestic normalcy. Living together, getting married and then starting a family. Why not take the chance? I thought we always wanted that, didn’t we?” he adds, looking away from you as if you’ve hurt his feelings.

It does make you feel bad, you’re lucky enough that your boyfriend offered to let you stay with him when you lost your job. He’s financially taken care of you ever since and in return you take care of all the domestic aspects.

And it hasn’t been bad, not at all.

You’re just not sure if right now it’s the right time to take that next step, but you have a feeling that Peter will wrestle you into agreeing, if you dare to say no.

“We’ll try it out then, okay?” you try to reconcile, giving Peter a small smile. You seem to have said the right thing because his whole body language changes, becoming lighter.

He lunches towards you, pulling you into his arms as he lifts you in the air, kissing any part of your skin that he can reach. It’s so goofy that you laugh, thinking everything is fine now.

Once you get a new job, you’ll explain it to Peter and reason with him, he’ll understand.

Positivity fills you but little do you know that Peter will never let you back on your word.

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

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princessbellecerise · 10 months

Text

Picture Perfect, I

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Your sister Natasha is in trouble. You know it in your gut, and even moreso — you know it’s because of her so called ‘family’ the Avengers. 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

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You wanted to tear your hair out.

You groaned as the words of your essay seemed to blur together on your laptop, barely being able to focus despite being the only one in the coffee shop.

It was quiet, but the silence didn’t help when it was your mind that was racing, pure agitation and frustration making your thoughts run a mile a minute.

Leave it to your damn journalism professor to assign you something that was nearly impossible. Okay, you shouldn’t say impossible, but for a math major, English and writing in general was not something you were particularly good at.

You were majoring in math for a reason, because numbers made more sense to you than words. Numbers were rational, logical, set in stone. Numbers meant facts and reason. Words however, could confuse you. They could appear as one thing and mean something entirely different. It was easy to deceive with words, harder when you had the facts.

You didn’t like words. You much preferred numbers, but so far the only number required in your assignment was the word count you had yet to reach.

You didn’t get it. Why would he assigned you a project so late in the semester, a project worth so much of your grade at that?

You had been doing fine all semester, scraping together things here and there, pretending you knew what the hell he was talking about when he mentioned things like press and media and PR.

All things that had nothing to do with your major, by the way.

You could pretend until now, until you suddenly had to put everything you had learned towards this project, and it was not working.

You groaned again in frustration as you scrapped yet another sentence, noting how stupid it sounded. In fact, your whole essay was half-assed because you simply were not good with words and you were finding it difficult to type your proposal despite having your source right at your fingertips.

You looked up as Marjorie, the woman that ran the café, gave a little chuckle at your frustrated nature. You locked eyes, and you could see that she was amused, knowing full well how much you hated this project — seeing as you did recruit her for help.

Professor Bernstein wanted the class to use their so-called skills to gather information about a topic that they found interesting. And you were supposed to use your ‘journalist methods’ as he had called them, to gather sources, write articles, and eventually compose a report of all the findings you gathered.

Which was fine, at first.

It was fine because you thought you could just pretend like you had been all semester, and you picked an easy topic you thought you were just going to breeze through.

The History of Math is what you had opted for. Simple, easy, and…

Apparently not good enough for Professor Bernstein.

You still scowled when you remembered the day you handed your proposal in. One week ago was when he had taken your paper, looked at it once, and then handed it back to you with a shake of his head.

“Journalism is about reporting things that are new and exciting,” He had put an emphasis on exciting and it wasn’t lost on you. “Try and research something that’s more relevant. Something that’ll capture the readers interest. You do know that the best project is getting submitted to the local paper, right?”

“But—” You had protested, thinking it unfair he turned you down so quickly. “If you just read it, then you’d see my paper is interesting. In fact, I even tracked down the grandson of the man that invented the calculator. Even managed to get a photo of the original prototype. Is that not interesting?”

Due to the fact that you had to resubmit your proposal, you would say that no, Professor Bernstein did not think that was interesting.

That interaction caused you to sulk, and as a way to cheer yourself up, you went to Marjorie’s Cafe for coffee and to express your exasperations to the woman who was always happy to listen to you. You told her about what happened and that’s when she offered herself as a topic for your project — or rather her heritage as an Italian American woman.

Marjorie agreed to be your source and give you interviews on what it was like having immigrant parents and grandparents.

She agreed that she’d help you out, as long as you did one thing for her.

“Stop complaining so damn much and just get it done,” She told you, and you wore a sheepish smile, knowing that she was right.

You would pull through this, you would pull through this, you would pull through this, you would—

Oh, fuck this.

You groaned again and this time you finally slammed your laptop shut, pushing it away from you and grunting as you snatched up your coffee. As you sipped on the dark drink (you usually liked your coffee with three creams and three sugars but you decided you need something stronger for today) you heard the old woman laughing again and the scuffle of her feet as she came from behind the counter, and sitting at your table.

You didn’t look at her as she sat down, opting to close your eyes and try to steer away the headache that was surely coming.

You rubbed your temples, and when you opened your eyes again, you met those of Marjorie’s, whose face was dancing with amusement.

“I take it it’s not going so well,” She guessed as she grabbed your coffee cup, pulling it towards her. You watched as the woman filled it back up to the brink before passing it back to you, a grateful sigh leaving your lips.

“Thanks, Marj. And not at all,” You told her with a deep frown. “I’m trying so hard to put everything you told me into words, but it’s just all so—”

“Boring?” Marjorie guessed, causing your mouth to drop open in shock.

“What? Marjorie, you know I would never—”

You started to protest, but the old woman’s laughter cut you off. She threw her head back, and by the way her hand reached over to gently pat yours, you were able to relax knowing that she was just joking.

“Dear girl, you have got to loosen up,” Marjorie told you, shaking her head slightly. “I was just kidding, but it seems this project has got you so stressed out you can barely think straight anymore.”

You sighed as you leaned back in your seat. She wasn’t wrong; you had barely slept in the last couple of days because you were so worried about this project and this class. You had stayed up all night writing several proposals before Marjorie had even offered, and now it felt your brain was really and truly burnt out.

“It’s just,” You fiddled with your hands as you met Marjorie’s brown eyes. They were warm, full of sympathy as you struggled. “It’s just that I want to go ahead and get this over with so I can finish this semester strong. But you know me—writing is not my strong suit, Marj. I do way better with numbers which is why I picked math as my major in the first place. And I mean—it’s frustrating that I even have to take this class. When am I ever gonna use journalism skills as a math professor?”

“Who knows?” Marjorie shrugged. “You might discover some new equation and end up in the papers yourself,”Her eyes twinkled and you snorted.

“Okay, I am not that smart,” You told her. “I mean, it’s not like I’m Tony Stark or anything. You know, discovering a whole element and all.”

You had only been joking, but at the mention of the multibillionaire, Marjorie suddenly got quiet. She bit her lip as a distasteful look grew on her face, her nose turning up slightly.

You rose an eyebrow.

“What? Not a big fan of Iron Man?” You tried to joke a little, but Marjorie only shrugged.

“Not in the slightest,” She said, seriousness in her voice. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly.

You had to admit, you were a little taken back by her response. Of course, you had your own opinion of the man and especially the organization he was affiliated with, but you never expected Marjorie to agree. You guys had never talked about it before, but whatever.

You two wouldn’t be the only ones that held disdain for a superhero.

“I guess that’s valid,” You shrugged as you sipped on your coffee. The bitter taste made you grimace a little bit. “Tony Stark does seem like he’s a bit—”

Full of himself, is what you were going to say.

“Dangerous,” Is what Marjorie came up with. “That’s all that man is. And boy do I tell you, I worry for your sister every day that she has to live with that man.”

“Well…” You trailed off because you were genuinely taken aback by Marjorie’s answer. Never, and you mean never, had anyone other than you referred to the Avenger as dangerous. Most people worshipped the ground they walked on, including your parents. Most people thought they were heroes.

But Marjorie…

You stared at her as you recognized that same suspicion behind her eyes. The same look people had often described you as having and you were shocked. Because it was one thing to have your own concerns, but if someone like Marjorie was thinking the same thing, then…

“What are you—”

Your voice was suddenly cut off by the bell over the door ringing. An abrupt customer had you slamming your mouth shut, holding your words as Marjorie’s eyes drifted from yours and towards the door.

What are you worried about? Is what you wanted to ask her, but you didn’t get the chance as a sudden gasp escaped her lips.

Marjorie got up, and you watched curiously as her face turned to happiness in an instant, the woman making quick haste towards whoever it was at the door. The joyful laugh she let out reached your ears, the conversation between the two of you long forgotten as she exclaimed:

“Peter!”

Peter? You inwardly questioned. Who is Peter?

You swiveled your body around so that you could be nosy and see what was going on. When you did, you were shocked to see Marjorie hugging the person that had came in. It was a boy, but you couldn’t get a good look at his face because Marjorie’s body was blocking your view. The only thing you could pick up on was his long, deep chuckle and his words as he said,

“Aunt May!” The stranger pulled away and greeted her with excitement in his voice, causing your eyes to shoot open and your mouth to drop in shock. You were absolutely floored when he stepped back, revealing a quite handsome boy that looked exactly like the woman you had known for two years.

Young, with brown hair and a sweet smile that almost melted your heart. The way he was looking at Marjorie was absolutely adorable, and even though you were still in shock by this new revelation, you smiled.

“Peter, my favorite nephew,” She giggled as she looked him up and down, fretting over him in typical Marjorie fashion. “To what do I owe the pleasure? You don’t usually visit your Aunt May on the weekdays, if at all.”

“Well,” Peter trailed off sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I’ve been kind of busy with schoolwork but I had some free time today so I decided to just pop in and see how you were doing. I would have done it earlier but you know I also have the—”

“The Stark Internship,” Marjorie answered for him, and you didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice, nor the familiar name rolling off her lips. She looked like she was grimacing a little bit, but she tried her best to hide it from Peter as she glanced back at you. You locked eyes for a second and you rose an eyebrow. “Of course. How could I forget that you’ve been spending all your time with Tony Stark?”

Tony Stark. Well that certainly explained some of Marjorie’s disposition towards him. It seemed like her nephew had been visiting her less and less frequently due to this so-called internship. You would have, of course, known this—except you were too busy not even knowing that Peter existed.

Marjorie had never told you she had a nephew. In fact, she never told you she had any family except for her late husband and children who she sorrowfully told you about. You racked your brain, but you were certain she never told you about any living relatives and certainly not him.

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you looked at the pair once again, and this time you were shocked to see Peter already looking back at you. May had taken his hand, and your mouth parted a little bit when you noticed her pointing towards your table.

“Come on. Let’s go sit down for a little bit, okay? There’s someone else here I think you should say hello to.”

Quickly you sat up, brushing the crumbs from your snack off your jeans and straightening up in your chair. You tried to make yourself look presentable while also pretending like you weren’t eavesdropping. When Peter and Marjorie finally got to the table, you put on a shy smile and blinked your lashes so Peter wouldn’t think you were weird for just sitting there.

“Um, hi?” Your words came out more like a question, and Peter laughed as Marjorie patted your shoulder. The two of them wore identical smiles as they sat down across from you, though Peter was the one directly across from you while Marjorie was beside him.

“Well, while you’ve been busy with Tony Stark,” There was that dismay again, “This one here has been keeping me plenty of company in your absence. She comes here almost every day; too much if you ask me,”Marjorie joked.

“Marj! Haha, you’re so funny,” You sent her a look while she simply grinned, winking at you as Peter laughed. “I don’t actually come here everyday,” You tried to assure him, even though you really did. Peter just smiled.

“Well if you did, I wouldn’t really blame you. Aunt May here has the best coffee in Brooklyn,” He beamed at her while you nervously nodded. And, not wanting to be rude, Peter suddenly realized he hadn’t introduced himself so he held out his hand. “I-I’m Peter, by the way,” He said with a sweet smile. “I’m this old troublemaker’s nephew.”

“Oh,” Marjorie, or May you supposed, waved him off while you giggled. Reaching out, you clasped your hand into his and noted how warm it was. Maybe even a little sweaty, but perhaps that meant he was just as nervous as you were.

“Hi. I’m Y/N,” You said to him shyly, your lips turning up. “Y/N L/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Peter agreed.

Marjorie cleared her throat when the two of you held hands a little longer than what was necessary, but she didn’t say anything. She just grinned widely when you both pulled away, embarrassed.

Peter was blushing and you suddenly became obsessed with your coffee cup. Marjorie noticed the interaction between the two of you and had you been looking at her, you would’ve noticed the slight twinkle in her eyes as she suddenly stood up.

“Come, Peter. Let me out so I can make some fresh coffee. I’ll pour you a cup and in the meantime, why don’t you chat with YN? I’m sure you both could find something to talk about,” Marjorie sang. You wanted to protest but before you could even say anything, she was gone—leaving you and Peter there staring at each other awkwardly.

The pregnant pause between the two of you was strong, neither of you knowing what to say. The two of you had literally just met and there wasn’t much to talk about, until Peter’s eyes landed on your laptop.

“No way, you go to MIT too?” He exclaimed excitedly, causing your attention to immediately snap to him. You noticed that he was looking at all the stickers that decorated your device, most of which you had added freshman year. “That’s so cool! What year are you in?”

Your mouth parted slightly at his words, but you quickly caught yourself as a small grin grew on your face. Blushing slightly, you leaned up and said,

“Sophomore. I’m a…I’m a sophomore,” You stuttered slightly, Peter’s face lighting up at your words. “I study mathematics there on main campus. You?

“Engineering. East campus,” He told you quickly, and even though you didn’t know him, you thought his major fit him as such. “With a minor in robotics. Thankfully I’m a senior now.”

“A senior?” You quirked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Oh my god, there is no way you’re that old.” You gave him a look. “You literally…you look the same age as me!”

“Well, that’s cause I probably am,” Peter admitted, once again scratching the back of his neck. “I went to Midtown High and I had a couple of internships so I got admittedly early. I was able to finish my freshman year and sophomore year before I even graduated and now I’m here. I’m uh…I’m nineteen, but a lot of people still think I’m in high school,” He laughed.

You laughed too because you could definitely relate. “Same here,” You told Peter, causing both of you to grin. “I’m 18, but my parents and literally everybody else swears I still look fourteen.”

“That’s because you do,” Came Marjorie’s voice, the woman coming back with coffee just as she promised. She slid a cup to Peter and while she didn’t have any beverages for you, she did have a snack.

You grinned at the cinnamon rolls she placed on the table, eyeing them hungrily while Peter did the same. He started to reach for one, but when Peter saw your hand shoot out first, he quickly pulled back and slid it over in front of you.

“Sorry. Ladies first,” He said, and you smiled as you plopped a sweet treat onto your napkin. You thanked him before digging in, Marjorie giving Peter a smile as he watched you.

“I figured since you’re both young geniuses you’ll need a snack to fuel those brains of yours,” She chuckled, elbowing Peter slightly. “After all, it’s not easy graduating at sixteen or having an IQ that’s higher than Bruce Banner and Tony Stark combined.”

“May,” Peter was obviously embarrassed as she smirked at this, causing you to stifle your laugh. You didn’t want all your food to come flying out and embarrass yourself in front of the two Parkers. So, you held back, but you appreciated the dig at Tony Stark. “How many times do I have to tell you, I am not smarter than Mr. Stark or Doctor Banner!”

“So you say,” Marjorie waved him off, but you had a feeling she wasn’t lying.

You looked at Peter and smiled at the blush on his cheeks. It seemed that he got easily embarrassed, just like you did. So, you decided to make him feel better.

“No, no, I definitely believe it,” You said, agreeing with Marjorie. “You look like the kind of person that would win a Nobel Peace Prize or something.”

Marjorie grinned. “See. Y/N agrees.”

Peter let out a strangled noise, almost choking on his cinnamon roll as he looked up at you. His brown met yours, and you winked at him as Marjorie simply smiled.

She gave you look when Peter wasn’t looking, and you knew exactly what she was thinking. And while you did think Peter was cute, you were mortified at the thought of being set up on a date by his aunt. Marjorie just had a way of being…embarrassing at times. You didn’t want her to get involved, but it seemed that she already had other plans.

“So Peter,” She started casually, ignoring the way you shook your head at her. You wanted her to stop but once Marjorie had her mind on something, there was no going back. “Didn’t you take Professor Bernstein’s journalism class at one point? I’m only asking because Y/N here has it now and, oh the poor girl is struggling.”

You glared at Marjorie as she faked sympathy on your behalf. Only for it to vanish when Peter looked at you.

“I think maybe she could use some pointers, if you wouldn’t mind of course. I know you’re always busy with that Tony Stark, but keep in mind that she almost punched a hole through her laptop before you came.”

The smirk was evident on her face as both you and Peter flushed. Damn that old lady and her meddling. You had only just met the guy and here she was already trying to shove you in his direction. Not that you didn’t need it of course, but still…

You gave her a look, but Marjorie pretended not to even see you as Peter turned his body towards you, a surprised look on his face.

“Peter, you most certainly do not have to—”

“Well, I kind of would be happy to help,” He cut you off, casuing your eyes to widen slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Bernstein was kind of a pain in my ass and I don’t blame you for being frustrated. If I can help anybody else from destroying their own laptop then I most certainly will,” He chuckled.

Marjorie beamed as you stared at him in shock, your heart beginning to race in your chest.

“Are you sure?” You asked Peter worriedly, not wanting to feel like a burden. “I don’t like, want you to feel pressured or anything. I know you have the Stark Internship so I don’t wanna distract you—”

“Oh nonsense,” Marjorie sneakily waved you away. “I’m sure Peter will be fine. Besides, it’ll give him a break and an excuse to come visit me more often. Two birds with one stone, right?”

“Yeah,” Surprisingly, he agreed. You felt your cheeks heat up as he flashed you a sweet smile, and luckily he couldn’t see your blush. “I uh…I’m sure Mr. Stark would understand if I cut back a little bit.”

God, you sure hoped he did. You worried that Marjorie had moved this too fast, too soon. And you didn’t want Peter’s life to get interrupted because of it…

But man, you really did need the help. None of your other classmates would bother, and your friends didn’t have to take this class. It was just you, and you worried that if you didn’t take Peter’s offer, you really would fail after all.

So, after not much deliberation, you agreed.

“Okay.” You sighed a little bit in acceptance, finally meeting Peter’s eyes. They sparkled as your gazes connected, making you shy as you finally agreed, “I suppose I could use the help. After all, this project is worth a lot of my grade and I’d hate to pass up an opportunity like this.”

“Really?” Peter’s face seemed to light up almost as much as his aunts did. Nodding slowly, you bit your lip, thinking that the matching expressions were adorable. Especially Peter’s…wait no! No! That was not what this was about. He was just helping, that’s all. There was no need to call him cute, or think his smile was adorable. He was just going to help you, that’s all.

“Yeah.” So you tried to play it cool, acting like it was nothing. But on the inside you couldn’t deny that you were a the tiniest bit of excited.

Marjorie gave you a look as she caught you staring at Peter again, but you simply flashed the woman a fake smile, knowing damn you weren’t fooling her. Just like her nephew, she could practically read you like a book. And if the way the two of you were staring at each other was any indication of what was inside, it was going to be an interesting read indeed.

“Come on, is it really that bad?”

“Yes! I’m telling you—Bernstein is absolutely relentless. It’s like he knows I’m no good at this and he’s purposely giving me all of this work just to see me fail,” You complained to your older sister, picking at your fingernails and staring into the phone you had propped up on your desk.

It seemed that your day just kept getting better and better. After leaving Marjorie’s with Peter, Natasha had called you right as you had gotten home.

It was the last thing you were expecting, sure, but you welcomed it nevertheless, never willing to pass up an opportunity to talk to your sister.

You had been giddy as you sat all your stuff down, the excitement of Peter walking you home still rushing through you. And immediately, you had dived into your life events, leaving no detail out from the last time Natasha had called you. It was routine at this point; one that you both welcomed.

Natasha seemed to smile as you told her everything about your life—even about your asshole of a teacher that was trying to ruin your life. And you swore that Nat was trying to gaslight you into thinking that maybe you were overacting.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s out to get you голубка,”She teased, using your familiar nickname. She chuckled a little as you rolled your eyes. “I don’t think any professor ever cares that much, but maybe he just wants to push you outside of your comfort zone. Maybe he just wants you to succeed in every subject, not just math.”

“Good one Nat,” You sarcastically laughed as a grimace came onto your face. “But no professor gives this big of a project, this close to summer without having the intentions of ruining someone’s life.”

“Yeah, okay. I think someone is just lazy,” Natasha pointed out, laughing harder when you flipped her off. “голубка, you didn’t graduate at sixteen for nothing. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure this out.”

“Don’t remind me,” You muttered. “If I could take it back, I would. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have gone to college at all. I’d have made you train me so I could be a super awesome hero. I bet they don’t make you do journalism projects.”

Natasha smiled, but you couldn’t help but notice that the action didn’t reach her eyes. They didn’t light up the way they used to, and it seemed like she had to strain to even get it on her face.

It made you sad, and it made you look at your sister closely, noticing the tiredness behind her eyes. In fact, she just seemed overall exhausted, her beautiful face looking blotched and worn out.

You knew there was quiet of an age gap between you and Natasha, but your sister wasn’t old by any means. However, it seemed that ever since she had joined the Avengers, she had aged beyond her actual years on earth. At first you always chalked it up to her job and the stress it must surely be causing her, but now another part of you told you that perhaps it was something else.

Perhaps it had to do with her shadow, forever lingering behind her even though he was trying his very best to stay out of sight.

It didn’t work.

You wondered why Bucky was even there but you didn’t want to risk asking and possibly sounding rude. After all, he could probably hear you. He was quite literally a super soldier, and even if he didn’t have advanced hearing, you were sure that with his proximity, he could still hear you. Even though you had your suspicions about the Avengers, you still had no proof that they were…well, anything. The only thing you had to go on was the uneasy feeling in your gut and you weren’t ready to openly insult Natasha’s friends to their faces, just in case you were wrong.

And if you were wrong, the last thing you wanted was for your sister to be mad at you and call you less than she already did. It already hurt your heart to see so little of her, and you didn’t want to do anything to mess it up. So you said nothing, only focused on Nat and occasionally looking at the shadow behind her.

“Are you okay?”

You noticed she had gone quiet for a little bit and grew concerned. Nat smiled again, but it looked like someone had pushed thread into her cheeks and pulled up.

“I’m fine,” She said quickly, her voice hoarse but steady. “Everything’s fine here, I’m just—”

“Let me guess, you’re just tired?” You cut her off and she nodded, you shaking your head. “Figured you say that,” You chuckled humorously.

Nat frowned. “It’s just…well we’ve just been going on a lot of missions lately and I haven’t had a chance to really rest, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is,” You said absentmindedly. You didn’t mean for your tone to sound so sarcastic, but before you could take it back, it was already too late.

Nat frowned deeper, and you could see her recoil a little bit causing you to sport your own frown. She stared at the camera for a little while before answering again, almost like she was carefully choosing the words that she wanted to say.

“Y/N,” She said slowly, grabbing your attention. She rarely ever called you that. “I assure you that whatever you may think is going on, that’s not it. I’m just tired from all the missions, nothing else. You know my life as an Avenger is rough and I’m not sure why you don’t believe me, but I’m not lying,” She said to you.

You rose an eyebrow. “I…never said you were,” You retorted back, blinking in confusion. But you quickly changed your tone as Bucky began to stir in the background.

You watched as he tensed a little, his head snapping towards Natasha and his eyes glaring straight into the back of her head. And even though Nat wasn’t even facing him, she still flinched and your jaw dropped a little bit at the interaction. Quickly, you scrambled to fix your words, not knowing if you had triggered something, the suspicions you felt coming into play.

Quickly, you said, “I know you would never lie to me. You never have before and I know you won’t start now. So if you say it’s just a mission then I believe you, Nat.” You tried to sound reassuring. “I don’t want to imply anything else but it’s just, well…I guess I just miss you, that’s all. And I just have so much to say to you in one phone call that I guess it just all comes out wrong.”

Natasha studied your face, and you tried to show her that you truly did believe her while you truly didn’t. You tried to convince…well you weren’t sure if it was her or Bucky. But whatever it was, it seemed that they both had relaxed, and Bucky went back to staring straight ahead, pretending like he hadn’t almost snapped his neck off upon hearing your words.

“I miss you too, голубка,” Nat replied sadly, lowering her head. “I wish I didn’t have to work so much so I could be there with you and mom and dad. I wish I could visit more often, but with all the missions…well, you know how it is.”

“Yeah. I know,” You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I know you’re busy Avenging and all that stuff so I try not to let it bother me so much. I know you do what you can, and I’m really thankful you even called me today. Cause honestly, this Bernstein thing has me really stressed and if it wasn’t for Peter—”

“Peter?”

Nat cut you off quicker than she could probably slice someone’s throat, her eyes snapping open and her jaw dropping slightly. Honestly, it took you kind of by surprise. The way her body suddenly became rigid, her skin turning white…it was unlike anything you had ever seen from her.

Truly, it kind of terrified you. You had never seen that expression on her face before and her hand that was in the frame clenched so tightly you could’ve sworn she drew blood.

You frowned, visibly alarmed. “Yeah, Peter,” You repeated slightly, not sure why Natasha had gotten so worked up. “I met him today at Marjorie’s café. You know, the one in Brooklyn that you always—”

“I know,” Nat cut you off quickly once again, and shook her head. “The one I always tell you to Stay. Away. From,” She snapped, visibly angry.

Now, you really were taken back. “Yeah…that one,” You said slowly. Man, what was with your sister today? “Marjorie knew I was struggling so she tried to set me up with Peter in her own little way, like getting him to help me. Honestly, you know how I feel about her meddling, but man those Parker’s sure are—”

“Parker?” The word came out so slow, so horrified that you actually had pause to check to see if you had heard Nat correctly. You actually froze as your sister began to shake, her hand coming up to slap over her mouth. Like she was starting to get sick or something.

Now, you were beyond confused and scared as tears began to gather in Natasha’s horrified eyes.

“голубка,” She begged, “Please, please don’t tell me that you met—”

“Peter Parker,” You said slowly, your own anxiety beginning to make you shake. “I…I did. He goes to MIT with me. He majors in engineering. Apparently he even interns under Tony Stark but I—”

“NO!”

“Nat!”

You were horrified as your sister suddenly jumped up, knocking the camera back with her hand and causing you to flinch then gasp. Suddenly, your whole body froze as you heard Natasha’s screams come through the phone, and male voices, including Bucky’s, beginning to yell. You reeled back, positively terrified as you screamed out Natasha’s name, begging for her to answer you.

“Nat? Nat! Please—somebody! What’s going on?”

“No!” You heard Natasha cry out again, and absolute terror trickled down your spine to hear your sister scream out like that. You couldn’t see anything, but you could hear all the commotion. Several more voices joined in—most of them telling Natasha to calm down. They were yelling so you weren’t exactly sure, but you thought you recognized most of the voices. Most of the voices you had heard on TV, speaking at UN meetings and press conferences. Most of those voices belonged to Natasha‘s teammates, and you desperately strained your ears to hear but it was all just too much. Too chaotic to really catch anything, so you continued screaming Natasha’s name as loud as she was screaming yours. You couldn’t see, but you could hear, and you somehow knew that she being held down.

“No, no, please! Anybody, anybody please answer me!”

You shook the phone as if that would do anything. As if it would shake your sister’s shoulders in real life. You shook the phone, but nothing came of it. Nobody picked up the device and only thing happening was the commotion. Muffled voices could be heard in the background, almost becoming eerily quiet.

Especially Nat’s.

You could barely hear her anymore, her screams dying down. But if you strained just the tiniest of bit, you could hear something. Mainly just broken words and mumbles, almost as if she was falling asleep.

Why on earth would Natasha be falling asleep when she just screaming her lungs out? The answer terrified you, making you want to cry. But you couldn’t shed any tears, you couldn’t even breathe until you knew that your sister was okay.

So shakily, you began to speak again. “Nat? Are you there? Please tell me you’re okay большая сестра.”

You begged and you begged and you begged some more before finally, somebody picked up the phone. Quickly, you grew hopeful, thinking that maybe it was Natasha. But you were a fool to think that—especially after what you had just heard, and the figure that came into was not your sister.

You couldn’t see their face, and you already knew in your gut that they only picked up the phone to end the call. You knew it. So, you did everything you could to memorize that face; to hear what your sister was saying before you were cut off from her.

It was faint, but just before the phone clicked off, you did hear something.

“You…you promised,” Natasha gurgled as if it was physically painful for her to say the words. “Bucky, you promised you wouldn’t hurt her if I—”

Beep, beep, beep.

The phone went dead. The call ended, you didn’t hear the rest of what Natasha was saying. You didn’t hear anything except for your own jagged breathing, your sobbing face staring back at you in the black screen.

If you had to guess, every feeling that you had two days ago was true. Every thought, every uneasy sensation was correct.

You could never prove it, never explain why you felt so uneasy when you saw your sister with those so-called heroes on TV. You could never gather enough evidence to say with definitive proof that something just wasn’t right about those people.

But now you could.

After hearing her last words, there was no doubt in your mind that something was going on with Natasha. And you knew, in that moment, you had to figure out what it was.

tags 🏷️

@iiirhiane-g

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader

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thesithdiaries · 1 year

Text

this was peak dark!peter parker for me. i used to read fics about it but never got into that mindset but after watching no way home, it finally clicked

like this whole entire vibe was what i needed

#marvel imagine #mcu imagine #peter parker imagine #dark peter parker #dark peter x reader #dark!peter parker x reader

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yichuuonvenus · 2 months

Text

Sweet Serial Killer

Peter Parker x Reader

~Description~

You've had a little crush on your brother's friend Peter, but you didn't know he felt the same until it was too late.

~Warnings~

Rape/non-consent, Murder, Loss of virginity, Webbing as bondage, Serial Killer!Peter Parker

The first time you ever met your brother’s friends was during one of their first sleepovers as a group. After that, it seemed like they came over frequently.

Your parents told you to look after the boys. You found it a bit dumb since they were only a year younger than you, but you still agreed to it. You were getting money for it after all.

The funny part was that you only knew one of their names, Peter, your brother told you one day. You only wanted to know because you had the smallest crush on Peter. It wasn’t anything big you just liked it whenever he would give you all his attention when you talked about something you liked or how he would apparently ask about you when you weren’t home.

You knew the chance of him having a crush on you too was slim to none, he was like that with everyone. He was just curious nothing more but you still dreamt of the chance of him liking you back.

You slumped a bit when you remembered tonight was horror movie night. To be honest you weren’t a horror fan you always opted to turn on something a bit more romantic or interesting. It always caused an eye roll from the boys but you didn’t really care because one person who would always be down to watch the movie with you was Peter.

You immediately stopped when you took the scene in front of you and frowned. Peter had sat at the corner of the couch. Your favorite spot, while the others sat on the floor with pillows and blankets surrounding them.

You heard a voice say your name followed by a hey.

You looked up and saw those soft brown eyes and immediately forgot what you were going to say.

“Hi…”

You smiled at him and he smiled back. You didn’t know what to do, so you gave him a small wave and sat on the other end of the couch.

“Do you want me to move?” Peter's voice was soft when he asked.

“No, it’s alright.” You shook your head and pulled out your phone, trying to ignore him a bit. You didn’t want to look at him with the heat currently rushing to your face.

The night was just starting and the boys were still trying to pick a movie.

You rolled your eyes when you heard one of the boys say something vulgar about something you didn’t care to listen to. You sat on your phone ignoring them arguing about what movie to watch.

It took what felt like an hour before they decided on Friday the 13th. You did a small sigh and hugged a pillow close to your chest.

It was quiet for the first couple of minutes. You hated to say it but you were scared of horror movies. You wanted to be the brave older sibling and stick to your guns, but then you started to hear scratching at the window. One of the boys addressed it causing your brother to shush him.

It stopped for a minute and then it slowly started back again. The scene was adding to the tension. Every time a woman screamed a scratch would be at the window. Finally, another boy said something and again your brother shushed him.

It went quiet for a few moments then you all continued with your movie. As if in sync with the movie, a loud bang sounded the window causing the boys and you to scream. Everyone was as startled but your brother fell over from laughing.

“Harry!” One of them said.

At the window, you saw a flash of auburn hair. A boy probably about the size of Peter stood at the window laughing. He pointed to the door. The black-haired boy got up and opened it. When Harry came inside. He had tears on his face from laughing so hard.

“You all are so easy to scare!” A hearty laugh left his throat causing one of the boys to groan.

“You can’t do that! We are watching a scary movie,” the black-haired boy said.

“Yeah you scared her too,” Peter said eyes drifting back to you.

You looked at Peter his stare never drifting away from you. You felt something in your chest heat up from his stare but you didn’t give it any thought.

You rolled your eyes to hide the fact you felt the heat in your cheeks. You looked towards Harry whose eyes went wide at the sight of you.

“I didn’t know she would be here,” he sighed with a mix of a chuckle, “if I knew I would’ve got the mask.”

The boys laughed a bit as Harry plopped down next to your brother. The heat on your face never went away. You sat there biting your lip and continued reading the story. They all talked a bit before playing the movie back.

It was getting darker and you all were feeling quite tired. Your brother went down first. Then the black-haired boy, who they called Ned.

And then Harry.

You and Peter were the only ones awake. You sat on your phone reading whatever. You felt your eyes drifting a bit until you finally closed your eyes.

You felt a shake and then a push. You slowly opened your eyes to find Peter looking down at you.

He softly said your name, making you look up, your eyes desperately trying to adjust to the light blue lighting of the tv.

“Can you show me where the bathroom is?” His eyes were soft looking at you almost apologetically.

“No yeah… I can hold on,” you moaned a bit stretching and sitting up. The boys below you stirred a bit for the sounds you made and you carefully tip-toed across them.

Peter followed close behind you, his chest almost touched your back but you didn’t really question it. The only thing you did question was how he asked where the bathroom was because of how often he’s here. You both rounded a corner and pointed at the door.

“Tell me if you need anything,” you yawned.

“Yeah thank you,” he whispered to you and closed the door. You decided to walk back carefully. You didn’t know if a couple of minutes passed because of how you fell in and out of sleep but you heard something that pulled you straight out of sleep. You rubbed your eyes a bit and that was when you heard it… your name. Your name was the one being softly called.

You got up and walked to the noise. It led you back to the bathroom. Groaning and moaning filled the halls making you shiver a bit.

“P- Peter??” It was met by silence. “Are you okay?” Still nothing.

It was until you heard some shuffling and flushing.

“Yeah I’m fine…“

“Peter, are you sure?”

It was in a flash and Peter was in front of you his lips touching yours.

You winced a bit from the counter digging into your lower back. You didn’t give it a second thought because you felt soft lips touching yours.

Your hands met Peter’s chest holding him, not knowing to push him away or to pull him closer. He lifted you onto the counter, hugging you close so that his lips never parted from you.

You gasped when you felt his hands rip down your shorts along with your underwear.

“You look so pretty,” Peter huffed into your neck.

You should’ve pushed him off and questioned his motives but you couldn’t. Your whole body was tingling from his touches. One of his hands went back to your heat. His fingers were circling your entrance causing you to do a slight whimper.

“Peter, what are you-“

He stuffed two fingers inside of you. The stretch from his fingers was melting you. They were thicker than yours and longer.

“You’re so tight,” he moaned grinning from ear to ear.

You were slumped against the sink, eyes tightly shut and fingers gripping the countertop.

You felt his lips graze your thighs. He gave them light pecks as he traveled to meet his fingers.

His lip’s immediately enveloped your clit. Sucking and licking that button until you were whining and whimpering. He slowed down a bit and smiled at you.

“I know how badly you want to make noise but you have to keep quiet though princess… you don’t want your brother to see how much of a slut you are, do you?”

You only shook your head causing him to chuckle a bit and stop.

“You have to use your words, princess.”

“No… I don’t want my brother to see,” you whispered but it sounded more like a moan leaving your lips.

“It wasn’t that hard was it?” He smiled up at you and went back to your clit.

His fingers continued their assault on you. You shook under his touches with the way he would switch his fingers and tongue. You felt like you were on fire.

You heard your name being called over and over again.

Wake up

Please!

"Please wake up!"

You heard your brother sobbing at your side, shaking you violently.

You shook awake. Your eyes flew open. You stared at your brother, tearing were in his eyes. You looked at the figure standing there holding a bloody knife. There was a dead body limp across from you.

“Guys… Run! RUN! RUN NOW!” You heard Ned scream. The killer was in front of you guys the knife in his gloved hands, bloody.

He didn’t have to tell you all twice. You ran out of the door your brother running to get to the keys.

"WAIT," you screamed towards your brother as Ned took your hand and started to run.

You both heard a scream. Coming for the house’s direction.

You both ran for what felt like a long time until you finally slowed down a bit.

“Ned… what the fuck are we going to do… I- I can’t go on,” you sobbed. You felt like your legs were giving out on you.

“I- I don’t know… we-“ Ned was cut short when he tripped over a log.

“Are- are you okay?” You gasped helping him up immediately.

Just then you both heard a snap of a twig. Causing Ned to scream. Harry was standing a few feet away from you both. A knife at his side.

You and Ned looked over at him. He was limping but still, somehow running.

“Harry, holy shit are you okay?” Ned gasped bringing his hands to his mouth and looking at him.

There was blood everywhere on him.

“Man… I- I didn’t even know… we need to get the fuck out of here and get the cops. It’s still a couple of miles away but if we run now we could get there,” Harry said. He held his side and blood seeping through his gray shirt.

“Harry, you need medical attention. We need to get that to stop bleeding,” you said, trembling a bit.

You all were standing there at one minute then screaming the next. Harry was wide-eyed and opened mouth. A knife through his skull. Blood spattered all over you and Ned.

You both started to run again only this time you were being chased by the masked figure.

Ned was the next one to go down. A blood-soaked gurgling was all that could be heard.

You sobbed into your sleeves shaking so hard as you ran. Your tears blinded you causing you to smack into something. The forest bed was damp beneath you, twigs stabbing into your back as you gulped for air.

You felt a pull at your hair and a rip of your clothes. You were pulled up against a tree. You could feel the mud below you soak your shirt and the tree bark digging into your head.

Your shirt was ripped down in half and your shorts were nowhere to be seen. You were left in your underwear. The masked figure, you could barely see from your minor concussion, sat there holding you down. You supposed he was staring at your body.

“Fuck…” you heard the figure say.

He pulled himself out of his pants and suddenly you felt the head of him slide against you. You wanted to shove him away but the strength was forced out of you when got knocked out.

You couldn’t stop shaking and trying to push him away to no avail. It continued like this until you felt webs on your hands and the tree bark scratching the back of your hands. You didn’t connect it sooner. Only ignoring everything as you stared at the sky, trying not to look down as he forced your legs to open wider. He was thick and veiny and felt heavy on your thighs.

“Please… don’t do this,” You sobbed. Your tears couldn’t stop from coming out.

“Princess it’s okay…” the masked figure pulled his mask away. Causing you to gasp at the view of him. Your eyes adjusted to him. Brown soft eyes staring down at you. You knew by the curly brown hair who it was.

It was Peter…

It was Peter Parker.

Sweet Peter…

Was the one in front of you right now.

Was the one who killed Harry and Ned.

And possibly your brother…

What you would give to see your brother right now. To have him help you get this boy off of you.

You hoped and hoped but he never came.

“Peter… please. I’m so sorry! I- I don’t know what we did or what I did but please forgive me,” you cried as he shushed you and rubbed your face. His thumb rubbing your bottom lip.

“Princess you didn’t do anything. I wanted this to be so special for you. But the guys got in the way…”

He didn’t make any sense as he rubbed his fingers over your mouth. You felt the sudden rip of your underwear and then the feel of them in your mouth.

“Fuck… you’re so precious…” he moaned into your ear causing you to cry out.

His lips covered your ear, nipping and licking at the lobe. He slid over you but not on purpose only because when he tried to force himself in. He moaned when the head of him slowly came inside. You could feel the air rip from your lungs.

You felt the swift push and stab in your entire bottom half. He entered fully you. It was like having a kick to your chest. The pain was what got you to scream out. Blood was rushing to your legs and face. You felt overheated even in the cold forest air.

You started to sob even more. You couldn’t stop shaking.

“Fuckkk… You’re a virgin?” He cooed. His hands were holding your face and his lips kissing your jaw.

You looked down and saw the blood that stained his cock. It made you cry out and shake. You never stopped shaking.

“Fuck I’m so sorry princess… but it will feel good I swear,” he moaned as he thrusts into you. His hips became mind-numbing harder and you couldn’t stop the whimpers and moans that left your lips.

“Please…” you cried so hard your face was swollen.

He took out the gag in your mouth. It immediately made you cough and cry harder. Drool soaked your face and your underwear.

“It hurts…” you whined. “Please! Peter get off.”

He only moaned when he fucked into you harder.

“I really wish I could… but you’re so tight it’s almost like you’re sucking me in.” His mouth with up against your ear again. You didn’t pay attention to those words only the feeling of his hips pounding into yours. The pain dulled a bit when he started to throw kisses down your neck.

It was messing with you the feel of his tongue on certain spots. It made your mind melt. You could feel the tree bark dig at your hands and wetness soaking it. You knew it could've been blood or something wet on the tree. You didn't want to think about it. You couldn't think about it. Not with the feel of him inside you pulling sounds out of you like it was almost nothing.

You heard him mumble something then the feel of his lips back on your ear.

“I’ve wanted you for the longest time… and if this was the only way to get you… then,” he chuckled. His hip ever so slightly slowing down a bit. It was as if he was trying to be gentle with you but even with his efforts it was still intense with the way his cock slid into you.

“Peter…”

You couldn’t stop crying. You could barely breathe. It was like you forgot how to breathe.

“I would do it again every time just for this sweet outcome,” he moaned when he thrust into a particular spot that had your toes curling and your vision blurring.

He smiled down at you fondly holding your face as he picked up his pace.

"Peter... please," you sobbed. Your hands were numb and your legs ached from being forcefully opened.

“Are you going to cum?" He groaned. "You can…,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed your lips before entering your mouth.

"Suck on it and you can cum."

Tears were nonstop and your face was wet and swollen. You could barely think. No thoughts at all forming, so you did what he asked. Sucking on his thumb until he was satisfied. You came around him in a cry.

"That's it, my sweet girl." He smiled at you, hips never slowing down once.

Your vision was blank. Your mind couldn't form coherent thoughts. One thing that wandered through your mind was the last thing he said.

His sweet girl…

No.

His thrusts never stopped. He fucked you roughly through your climax never stopping once. You squeezed your palms so tightly that it felt like blood was pooling in them from your nails.

“It’s okay breathe… I'll be done soon," he huffed. His cheeks were red and sweat droplets were running down his face.

"Is it okay if I finished inside of you?"

Your eyes went wide with horror. You needed to get him off of you. Your hands were tied and your legs were forced open by him. You tried to cut the web off with your nails to no avail. It was like all of your strength with forced out of you with his thrusts.

"Peter don't! Please!" you sobbed desperately trying to claw at the webs.

His thrusts got harder and faster again and a loud groan filled your ears. You felt the warmth as it entered you. You gasped unable to fully process what he did. Peter was hunched over you his lips sucking and kissing your neck. You were blank, too out of it to even respond to his kisses and apologies.

Peter… your sweet Peter had murdered his friends just to get to you.

Your sweet, lovable Peter had just raped you.

His fingers came back to your face slowly holding your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, princess…” he said softly. His hands made you face him. Your noses briefly touching.

“Peter… just let me go. Please.” You whispered as soft cries left you. “I won’t tell anyone I promise.”

His face softened, “No no, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry, baby.”

You wanted to hurt him so badly but your heart was breaking at the sight of his tears. You were so distraught and hurt. Your brother’s best friend that you’ve known for so long… had raped you.

You couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to hug him and apologize for making him cry but the urge to kill him with no remorse was pulsating through you.

He has used you in the worst way possible but you couldn’t push all those fond memories and feelings you’ve had with him.

You heard yelling and a lot of twigs snapping. Dogs were barking so loudly that it was as if the ground was shaking from it.

Help.

Help was coming.

Peter looked in the direction of the sounds before holding your face and kissing your lips as if it was like last time.

“I’m so sorry…” he whispered tears falling down his cheeks.

You didn't understand what he meant until you felt a sudden prick in your neck and you were out.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader

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