#peter parker x dark!reader

[cherienymphe]

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

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

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

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

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

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

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

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place. 

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

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

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

Or, at least, none that mattered. 

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

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

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

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

And Peter never even asked why. 

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

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

And how true that must have been. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he?” 

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

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

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

“Well did he have anything useful?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mj happened.” 

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

“Yep. That’s the one.” 

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

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

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

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

You sucked in a breath. 

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

His brow snapped up. “What changed?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not pretending-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist

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

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

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

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #no way home imagine #no way home fanfiction #no way home #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #spiderman imagines #tom!peter imagine #andrew!peter imagine #tobey!peter imagine #tom!peter x reader #andrew!peter x reader #tobey!peter x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #spiderman imagine #spiderman fic #spiderman fan fiction #dark spiderman #mcu #spiderman #spiderverse #tobey maguire #andrew garfield

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

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

[yanderestarangel]

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

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

Your writing is absolutely amazing!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.

#yanderestarangel #afab reader #tw smut #astv miguel #peter b parker #miguel ohara x reader #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x male reader #peter b parker x ftm reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel o'hara imagine #yandere miguel ohara #yandere spiderman #miguel ohara smut #astv smut #ftm reader #transmasc reader #ftm!reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x ftm reader #miguel o'hara x male reader smut #dark smut #spiderman astv #astv fanfic #yandere peter parker #peter parker smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x male reader

[princessbellecerise]

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

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

#fic rec #dark fic #dark!clark kent #dark!peter parker #dark!steve rogers #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!morpheus #dark!curtis everett #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!daemon targaryen #dark!bruce wayne #dark!bakugou #dark!ransom drysdale #x reader

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE PETER PARKER HEADCANONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will use EDITH to make sure you're safe

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

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

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, mentions of abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You stumble out into the hallway, nearly colliding with the dingy and peeling paint on the wall. The door slams with the force of your frantic exit, nails bending painfully as you let go of the brass knob. Your heart pulses in your ears as another crash bangs from inside the apartment and your father's tirade blazes on.

You untangle your bag, the only thing you could snatch as you stepped halfway into your shoes. The doorknob twists again and you quickly flee down the hall, your father yanking at the door as it jams. You quickly veer down the staircase and only stop at the top of the next flight to pull your shoes on all the way.

You catch your breath at the front door, aware of how Mrs. Davis’ door snaps shut when you pass. You continue outside without a destination in mind. You could hide out at the library again, no one notices you there. It is a bit far to walk.

You sling the crochet bag over your head so it hangs against your hip. You reach inside and find your change purse. You don't have much after the electric bill. Two bucks, it's three to get the bus.

You huff and tuck your hand back in your bag. Your feet carry you as you wind down the street. The apathetic rush of traffic makes you feel invisible. You don't mind that, it's more dangerous to be seen.

There's nothing remarkable about you. You're taller than most girls but that's more worthy of ridicule than admiration. You wear second-hand clothing, some of it your dad's handmedowns, and hunch until your spine hurts. An elephant trying to play fawn.

You chew your lip and stop by the vintage shop. Not the Goodwill but the expensive place with the designer houndstooth and Louis Vuitton logos. In another world…

Across the street, a night club stands desolate and eerie in the daylight. A few times you passed during opening and it was rowdy and flashing. Just on your way to the bus station to spend a couple hours on a bench.

On the next street, a cafe. The place that closed then opened only weeks later. New ownership but everything else the same. The prices aren't as steep as the Starbucks kiosk near the station.

You ponder it, stopping outside as you see a woman behind the counter. You're a bit relieved it's not the usual barista. That guy with reddish hair and warm brown eyes. He likes to talk, too bad you don't.

You enter and approach the till. The woman greets you brightly, her eyes look tired, and she points out to the specials. Nope, you can only afford a tea.

You pay for the green tea and way for her to pour the hot water. As you tap your fingers on the counter, another figure appears from behind the espresso machine. It's that guy. Dang.

“Hey, done break, your turn,” he chirps, quieting as he sees you standing there. He smiles, “oh, hi, you been helped?”

You nod and look down. The woman places the cup of steaming water in front of you. You thank her and take it, turning to claim the seat in the corner.

You sit and settle in with your bag in your lap. You don't have much to do so you stare out the window. Pedestrians pass by, with purpose, some even happily.

The cafe is quiet. There's a couple nesr the opposite wall, on a date, maybe. The ambiance holds even as people come in, ordering and leaving with their drinks.

You blow on your tea and sip. You tug the string of the bag and dip it up and down. Your dad will tire himself out soon. Maybe two hours. You can't make one tea last that long.

You put your arm on the table and curl your shoulders. You trace a finger on the tabletop. You usually keep a book in your bag but you took it out to read last night.

You frown. It shouldn't be like this but that's just how it is. You don't have much of a choice. Your dad is your family, your only family, all you have.

You wiggle your nose and swallow back your self-pity. No use crying. Especially here.

“Hi,” the voice frightens you as the barista approaches with a cinnamon bun on a plate, “uh, I'm Peter, remember? Saw you last week?”

You blink. You press your palms to the cup and feel the heat threaten to blister. He's short, his shoulders broad, and his posture straight.

“Er, you want a cinnamon bun?”

“I… no, I don't have the money,” you rasp and sip your tea.

“On the house,” he insists, “really, there was a mix up this morning and we made a batch too many.”

“That's nice but… no thank you.”

You know what it is to accept favours. They always come back to debts. You lower your head again.

“You don't like sweets? We have quiche–”

You shake your head. He hovers, waiting. You turn to watch out the window again. You wince as the plate clinks onto the table. He leaves the bun there and goes back behind the counter. You ignore it.

Maybe you won't come here anymore.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #au #the club #drabble #series #treat you #spider-man #mcu #marvel

[deftmeat]

‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ stepbrother!peter parker obsessed with you

NSFW ( mostly just a self-indulgent au )

• reposted since tumblr hid it •

w a r n i n g : contains non con and perv!peter

before tony stark had settled down with pepper potts, he had been with another woman. but after a messy divorce and an unwanted child, he decided to cut off all contact with her.

that woman was your mother. you had never met your father until she handed you off to him one day in the chilly autumn of new york.

after turning 18, she had decided to kick you out and dump you at the very front doors of stark tower.

with loose, messily packed luggage and fat tears staining your face, a man with short curly hair opened the door to you.

of course, later you learned his name was happy and tony trusted him greatly. happy also seemed to willfully obey his every order so you assumed there was a lot of trust and history between them. but you also wondered if tony ever told anyone about you.

it didn’t surprise you though, when you were brought up to tony, escorted by happy, that your father had no idea who you are. and when you explained yourself, he acted shocked you existed.

that’s how you ended up being employed by tony himself, starting out more as an errand runner or assistant to his incessant requests.

you couldn’t lie and say you enjoyed the first few months helping out around the avengers tower and catering to people who intimidated you- but after two years you had come to form closer relationships with those on the team and were more than just a nuisance.

but there was one other person you spent a lot of time with.

peter parker.

you were basically the same age as him, both the same generation and shared the exact same humour. your friendship with peter was nothing like the ones you possessed with the other, older avengers.

your texts between each other consisted of memes and spammed word vomit. peter spilled his secrets and his fears to you while you comforted him and listened. he didn’t see you any differently despite being aware of your hidden relation to his boss, respecting you enough to never bring it up.

there were times where you’d catch him staring at you for too long or you’d accidentally touch each other and he’d linger… just a little bit. you only brushed it off that he was clingy and touch starved.

alas, peter knew sometimes you would feel embarrassed of the fact you were tony’s kid especially when tony never liked to share details about himself to his coworkers. a few of them had been told too but treated you like you weren’t the daughter of one of the most narcissistic men they knew.

another reason you got along well with everyone. so much that you had been silently promoted to aiding in missions and able to train side by side with peter and the rest of the avengers.

when sparing with peter, he’d purposefully sweep your legs out from under you, only to collect your wrist in both of his hands and slam them to the mat, his thighs locked on either side of your hips and his face unnecessarily lowered to hover over yours.

you found most of your sessions under him and while it frustrated you that he beat you every single time, you couldn’t help but notice the look on peter’s face when he did trap you to the floor.

you also noticed how as soon as he got off of you, peter was quick to end the sparring match- practically running out of the gym, his pace fast and posture hunched over. maybe peter was just weird in general?

but he couldn’t help it. seeing you under him, looking vulnerable and so damn pretty like that… his cock swelled with blood and his balls ached with the need to breed you. every. single. time.

the feeling didn’t go away, even after may had died. despite the fact peter had become a mess, you were right there, picking up the pieces that used to be him and taping them back together as best as you could.

that’s when tony had made the executive decision to take peter in. he reasoned that he was already like a father figure to the poor boy, nothing would change. tony obviously had a soft spot for him.

at least, that’s what he said to convince you. and you couldn’t turn peter away when everyone he loved was no longer in his life.

so he moved into the building, took all of his belongings and clothes with him. peter put university on hold while he figured things out. you were understanding and tony- supportive. that’s when he could see the resemblance between you two. you both cared for him. and he suggested to become apart of your family.

of course tony took it the wrong way and surprised peter by adopting him, not even telling you beforehand. you were both speechless but for different reasons.

when peter stroked his leaking dick at night, giving into his fantasies of pushing your head down and dragging his red sensitive tip across your slit and deep inside your soaked walls; he could do so freely. now? now he couldn’t.

he couldn’t have you the way he wanted. peter was definitely frustrated at the new dynamic between you and him but he found it as an excuse to freely walk into your room whenever he wanted. why not? he was your step brother now.

it creeped you out at first, how he would sometimes silently slip past your doorway and make himself at home, occasionally starting up random conversations as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

eventually you got used to it. sometimes leaving your room to grab a snack or go to the bathroom. you could trust peter not to break anything. he was such a sweet and quiet guy.

and that’s when he would take his chance, going through your drawers and stealing little things of yours.

the sheer panties your best friend from high school had given you for your birthday. a photo of you in a revealing bikini from a trip to the beach when you used to live with your mom. one of the many bottles of body spray that littered your vanity. lotion that you used all the time. another pair of underwear that were less appealing but you wore all the time when you wanted to dress comfortably.

peter even started to lay on your bed on his stomach as soon as you left the room and grind his hips down, rubbing his jean clad bulge against the soft blanket you slept under. he’d stick his face down into your pillow and hump your mattress, veiny hands fisting any fabric he could grab and pulling it closer to his nose, smelling you while he thought of raw dogging your puffy pussy in your own bed.

just when he was on the verge of cumming in his pants, you’d always walk in and he’d feign innocence. pretending he wasn’t just dry humping your bed like a greedy rabbit. you were never the wiser.

you noticed certain things of yours started to go missing little by little until you barely had things to wear or use. you assumed it was the dryer eating your entire wardrobe so you complained to tony and he gave you his card to buy an entire new one.

he didn’t want you going alone though so he made peter go with you. you weren’t entirely thrilled since had he had been glued to your hip almost constantly as of recently but you went along with it, knowing that if you didn’t agree, tony wouldn’t let you go at all.

so when you get to the small shop on the busy corner, peter wouldn’t stop suggesting pieces for you to buy or even try on. you found that they were either way too revealing or borderline inappropriate for him to request. but he wouldn’t stop insisting, going as far as to shove a whole armful of things into you and pushing you to the changing room very eagerly.

“i’m just trying to help.” he told you before closing the door behind you once you fully stepped inside. it didn’t help that every two minutes he’d knock and ask if you had finished, that he wanted to see what they looked like on you.

you obliged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. you were exposed- not to mention in front of peter. your step brother.

you left the small room in the first thing he had shown you, a size too small t-shirt and extremely tiny booty shorts. but peter seemed to hype you up, smiling enthusiastically. his eyes held a glossed over look while his gaze slowly went down your body, taking in how your skin would stick out and show where it probably shouldn’t be.

“okay turn around.” he spoke abruptly, making your face twist into one of uncertainty. he shook his head and merely spoke down to you like you were playing dumb; “come on, i just wanna see what the back looks like.”

huffing out a sigh, you reluctantly shifted your weight and spun to show your backside.

when you did though- you swore you heard a camera clicking but when you whipped your head around to catch whoever had taken your picture without consent.. no one was there.

“peter..?” you meekly stared around, looking for the boy but he had disappeared as if in thin air. the only other people you saw were two employees reorganizing hangers across the wall.

your stomach twisted and you shrunk back into the changing room, not bothering to try the other pieces on and put your own clothes back on, feeling anxious that someone was watching you.

as soon as you went to open the door, peter was standing right in front of the entrance- making you jump and drop the large pile of things you were holding.

“woah, sis. calm down. it’s just me.” he laughed it off, giving you that boyish smile, peter’s eyes never leaving yours. you felt your face flush and apologized- pushing past him to put the exposing clothes back on the racks where he had gotten them from.

ever since then, you felt violated. you avoided peter. you started to ask FRIDAY to lock your door with an access code. you weren’t entirely sure it had been him but he was starting to freak you out even after that day.

you’d wake up multiple nights in a row, in a cold sweat, absolutely sure you could feel someone else had been inside your room besides yourself.

you’d place your hoodie down on the couch to grab a drink, coming back to find it gone.

peter would stay up for two hours after you went to bed, wanting to be certain you had fallen asleep before typing in the access code to your room- watching you put it in while he stuck to the ceiling one day.

he’d quietly shuffle in and see your phone beside your pillow and your face scrunched up while you dreamt. he’d whisper your name just to double check then crept over to your bed, hovering down to stare.

the next thing he knew, he was fucking hard- just by looking at you. that’s what you did to him and you didn’t even know it. his step sister always teasing him, purposefully taunting him with something that was forbidden for peter.

but he bottled up his frustration, struggling to push down his jeans as silently as possible. the slight sound of denim rubbing against itself was drowned out as his pants clung just below his knees. he hadn’t worn a belt for this very reason. wanted easy access while keeping you unaware of his presence.

peter bit his lip when his warm palm finally made contact with his cock, the angry tip already leaking and spilling down to weave through his fingers. “mmshit..” he choked out, careful not to be too loud when he started to stroke himself. his eyes were locked onto your sleeping face, his tongue darting out to drag across his bottom lip with desire. desire for you.

since he couldn’t have you, this was the best he could do, flicking his wrist to increase the speed that his hand jerked his dick, his cheeks wearing a dark flush the faster he went.

“yeah.. wanna breed my lil’sis.. make you mine, baby..” peter muttered, leaning forward so that his cock was right beside the pillow, the back of his hand almost ghosting your nose every time he moved up the entirety of his throbbing length.

he had only touched himself above you one other time but every single night since he saw how your ass looked in those small shorts- he couldn’t help but visit you while you were unconscious, whispering about how badly he wanted to feel your pretty cunt wrapped around his dick, about how good he bets you taste. but he was growing restless, as he confided in your passed out form- he needed more.

which lead to two nights ago. peter couldn’t help but jack off while sitting at the chair in front of your desk in the corner, listening to your soft breaths, one your previously used panties stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet - forcing peter to spurt cum all over his hand and bare thighs.

tonight was no different but he was feeling bolder, the aggressive animalistic demand his mind screamed at him to paint your face and mark you as his. to see how hot you looked while his warm sticky seed dripped down your lips and chin and onto your sheets, ruining them. ruining you.

a low groan rumbled in his chest when you shifted, your face now just under his slapping balls. peter almost came at the sight of your unconscious submission, your eyes fluttering and your lips just barely parted. ready to swallow the load he could feel about to explode from his swollen cock head.

his other hand not gripping his dick, shot out to claw at your head board to steady himself from falling on top of you, his body tingling with pure heat. he could barely stand, his knees buckling and the strong muscles in his pale thighs rippling with the effort to maintain his stance.

he was sure he could last another few minutes but when you moved your arms under your blanket, the sudden action pulled it down, revealing the loose tank top you had chosen to wear to bed.

peter’s eyes flitted down to your tits, and upon noticing you hadn’t worn a bra, your nipples stiff and pressing into the fabric- he let out a loud moan, massive ropes of white cum pouring out of his cock.

a few spurts hit your bare collarbones, your chest, the soft blanket draped over you and of course your pretty face. he watched as the thick goo caught on the tip of your nose and bottom lip- gravity causing it to run inside your mouth and down your cheeks onto the pillow.

“fuuuck.” peter cursed at the sight of his cum soaked step sister, all laid out for him.

when you felt something hot splatter your skin you flinched. it had made you stir. blinking your messy eyelids, trying to get whatever it was out of your eyes- you were fully awakened when you heard that familiar click of a camera.

rising your hand up to drag your numb fingers across your face, whatever was on it stuck to your digits and webbed between them. then you noticed it was also in your mouth so you leaned forward and let it drizzle out past your lips and land on your sheets. then you saw movement in the darkness and your unfocused gaze lifted to just barely be able to make out what it was. or who it was.

your body ran cold- you were first met with a cock that was still strikingly hard, leaking and pointing right at you, followed by hair framing the base of the shaft, accompanied by a small trail of the same hair up to below his bellybutton.. peter’s face above it all.

he lowered his phone with clouded eyes, panting heavily and cheeks flushed. his eyes on you.

“…pete?”

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #stepbrother!peter parker #step siblings #x reader #smut #fanfic #marvel #marvel smut #female reader #peter parker x female reader #avengers #headcannons #best friends #self insert #creative #writing

[cherienymphe]

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

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➯ 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

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part one // back at the beginning

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

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

WORD COUNT - 5.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was dead—Aunt May was dead.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it still made you angry.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Understand.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t used to this.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was different, somehow.  

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

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

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

But Peter wasn’t like other people.  

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

His eyes couldn't lie, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wouldn’t bring May back to life.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew better than to think he meant it.  

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.  

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

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

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

You were good at expressing anger, though.  

You were very good at expressing anger.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will,” you promised.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.  

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

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

Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.  

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

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

Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist

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

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

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

#peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #no way home imagine #no way home #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #tasm fanfiction #tasm imagine #andrew!peter imagine #tobey!peter imagine #tom!peter imagine #tom!peter x reader #tobey!peter x reader #andrew!peter x reader #mcu x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker headcanons #peter parker fan fiction #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #tobey maguire #andrew garfield #tom holland #infinitely you

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Marriage Proposal

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

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

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You should’ve broken up with Peter long ago. Now you deal with the consequences. 

WARNINGS: --  

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

You reluctantly look up from your plate at the feeling of a hand covering your own, the warmth irradiating from the firm palm making you itchy to remove the hand, but you let it be. 

"Happy anniversary, babe.” Peter smiles at you, so genuine and loving, and you force your lips to stretch into a pleasant smile. 

“I can’t believe we’ve been together for a year now. I feel like we’ve only met yesterday but here we are.” he says with a chuckle.

“It’s as if time flies away when you’re in love, right?”

You weakly nod, opting to bring the wine glass to your lips to give you an excuse to avert eyes. But that doesn’t stop the turmoil of emotions that devastates you inside, the guilt eating you away.

You’re a horrible girlfriend. And a coward one too. One that keeps prolonging and dragging time, too timid to break-up. 

Not tonight, you decide, delaying the confrontation furthermore. Peter is so happy and you’d hate to break his heart on such an occasion.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

“This place is really gorgeous, I love it.” you say, allowing your eyes to wander around the restaurant.

The place is indeed pretty. Elegant but at the same time, private and personal. It suits Peter. 

Tension accompanies throughout the entire dinner as you play the girlfriend role dutifully, pretending to laugh at Peter’s jokes and smiling at him. 

A part of you feels so bad for it, there used to be a time where you actually loved Peter.

You still like and respect him, he’s a great guy, unlike many men. But you’re no longer the same person that you were when you meet him. 

And Peter…

He’s the one that took a 180º change. Deep inside, he probably means well, intending to protect you but that isn’t enough to make you stay.

Not if you want to have a toxic-free life. A life without having to answer a full interrogation when you plan to hang out with friends.

A life without having to call and text your boyfriend about what you’re doing, otherwise he’ll most likely show up at your workplace, face pinched with worry because you failed to contact him. 

You’re so caught up by your thoughts that you wince, surprised when people start clapping and cheering, everyone’s attention fully on your table. 

When you confusedly look for Peter, your whole world drops. 

The world seems to stop when you look to your side as Peter gets down on one knee, a jittery smile curling his lips. 

Your face drops in horror, mind frozen and unable to think. 

“Peter…”

“I know, I know.” he brushes you off, joy irradiating from him, “Just let me say this first, yeah? I’m so nervous.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times and you blink, unable to fully comprehend what’s going on. This can’t be true…

This has to be a prank, there’s no way that Peter is actually proposing to you. But your doubts are swiftly cleared as a small and elegant velvet box appears in the scene.

No…

Peter clears out his throat with a small noise before looking at you, and you realize how nervous he actually is, a light layer of sweat in his forehead.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know. Been preparing it for weeks now.” he confesses after a long moment, shaking his head.

“Tony helped me write it. Lots of fancy poetic words and-and I completely forgot all of it.”

“But what I really wanna say is that I love you, Y/N.” Peter declares, his voice gaining determination, “From the moment I saw you, I knew that you were the one for me. I was lucky enough that you gave me a chance to prove to you how much I care for you…”

Your heart tightens at those words and you clutch the table’s fabric, feeling yourself helpless. 

“... and this past year has been amazing. The best year of my life. All because of you.” Peter smiles tenderly at you, his hands working on opening the velvet box and you feel yourself tensing up when a delicate silver ring comes into sight. 

“So…Y/N L/N, will you give me the honor of being your husband?” 

And just like that, you faintly nod, not trusting your voice to speak. Peter beams at you and you do your best to retribute, despite the numbness that strikes you like a bullet.

The restaurant explodes in a loud applause and Peter wastes no time in pushing the pretty ring on your hand, engulfing you in a tight hug. 

“I love you so much.” he feverously kisses your head.

You push your face against his chest, hoping to hide the tears that burn in your eyes as you start regretting saying yes already.

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

[theliability]

Trying to study but I keep thinking about post-nwh Peter being all alone rn

#peterparker #marvel mcu #no way home #post nwh #peter parker x reader #spiderman #mcu peter parker #tom holland #studying #dark academia #idk how to tag this #maladaptive daydreaming

[friendlyneighborhoodhottie]

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

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

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

770 Words

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

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

New Message From Felicia

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

You felt your heart sink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then let me see your phone, Peter."

"What? No, (y/-)"

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

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

"Wow."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[clarks-letterman]

lost in reality | perv!peter parker x gender-neutral!reader

a/n — this is not what i usually post! there was going to be more smut but i didn't know how far to go with it, so if anyone wants to see something more extended, let me know! (Peter is a bit of a perv in this but i tried to make him get his comeuppance) gender-neutral, i think

warnings — smut! 18+, some brief facefucking, gore (sorta mild, but don't read if you don't like it!)

summary — Peter uses the reality stone to practice his pickup skills. With such a powerful device at his disposal, what could go wrong?

words — 3.7k

~~~

A mesh of red and blue ambled to the quarters of the Avenger's compound. No rush nor worry affected Peter as he kept one foot light over the other, heading into each step, furthering him down the hallway. It was another neighborhood saved and another day where he would be free from the thoughts of letting his powers go to waste, and his life could finally regress into normalcy for the start of the new day. While he had a kick in his step from how smoothly the night had gone—and how much his mentor acknowledged the fact—Peter felt the need for something a little more caffeinated to help him instead.

As Peter returned from his latest venture, taking no rush to get to his room, you were on your way out of the resident android's room. In your hand, a pad of Stark Industries-branded notepad paper with all but one of the Avengers' coffee orders scribbled down filled it. You would not be in Vision's room with the question of coffee being the reason, something he was physically incapable of drinking, but Wanda frequented the room, and it was likely that she was in there. You were right to assume that, and now, you planned to check the door just further down the hall to see if Peter was around.

It turned out that you did not need to go far; the bright colors of his suit caught your eye the second you stepped out into the corridor. Anything resembling Peter's mood of being on top of the world was gone, and so was that little kick that pushed him further—you could almost see him lose it in his eyes once he saw you, even from afar. You approached him with one thing on your mind, the pen and paper used to record everyone's order at the ready.

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

There was an awkward silence between the following words until you reminded him by tapping your pen to the side of the notepad to draw his attention to it and speaking up, "Your order?"

"What?" He was already blowing it. Peter glanced down to his red-spandex feet and then back to you, his voice returning to its natural pitch, "Oh, yeah, uh—"

Peter paused. He realized he did not know what he wanted, and while you found the evident attempt to appear cool somewhat endearing, you could have already been heading out to get coffee for everyone by now. Almost by reflex, you started to tap the pen against the nearly completed list of coffee orders ranging from simple menu items to oddly specific modifications to non-existent drinks. And in seconds, the pen slipped from your grasp and unceremoniously landed on the laminate of the hallway floor.

"Shit," you reached down to grab the ballpoint, but Peter stopped you.

"I'll get it."

He attempted to bend over, only to find his hand stuck to the wall. Peter quickly stood straight, subtly tugging his hand away from the wall without tearing a new hand-shaped hole in the plaster and paint. In his panic, Peter's hand stuck itself to the wall, and no matter how hard he tried to pull away from it, his hand wouldn't budge. That left you to get the dropped pen, reaching for it without the trouble of spider-centric powers messing with you.

You looked to Peter, scribbling down his name next to Tony's order, "I'll just get you what Tony gets and leave you alone with your hand. See you later, Peter."

With that, Peter was left alone and sufficiently embarrassed as you strode down the hall, and, finally, his hand let him free once you were gone. He scuttled to his room in a bout of shame and locked the door, heading to his mirror with a plan to practice asking you out. It was a simple mirror resting on the opposite side of the wall that had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object that could neither sway nor influence his spider abilities. He planned on using the reflective rectangular sheet as a stand-in for you but decided to change himself into something that didn't remind him of the awkward encounter he had moments ago.

Now, he stared at himself in the length of the full-body mirror, dressed in a tee sporting Midtown's gold and navy-blue colors and a simple pair of beige cargo pants. It was more on your level, casual clothes that were unlike the striking symbolism of his superhero suit. Peter hoped it would make him feel more comfortable talking to you, as he wouldn't discern the need to be perfect in everything he does around you. He could be Peter.

The first words he spoke to himself in the mirror were natural, not meant to sound broody or cool. It was how he usually talked: voice cracks and diffidence-galore, "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to swing me to get coffee with you?"

Peter realized his slip-up and started the question over again.

"Oh my God, that's so funny that you get coffee!" He placed a hand over his chest with a fake smile to match, "I love caffeine and wanted to know if you would drink me. I mean, drink it with me?"

“Hey, I was just in the neighborhood—saving it, and all. Coffee, you-me? Then, we could come back here for. . .” He paused, knowing that he could never be that smug with you—he could barely get his powers to work! How would the Parker-Charm not blow up on ignition? “Okay, dial it back, Pete.”

"I'm hopeless," Peter let his head fall, staring at the floor. He could hardly watch himself fumble in the mirror, but the glint of a red sheen in the mirror pulled him back—the reality stone, sitting on one of the few bookshelves resting against the walls of his room. This one housed various meticulously assembled Star Wars-themed Lego sets, and the stone quickly became an amenity on the set of Boba Fett's Starship. Could he use it for this, of all things? If he did use it, it would only be for a couple of minutes. For practice, he told himself.

Many people would probably ask why a teenager would have one of the most mighty pieces of rock sitting on a shelf in his bedroom, and well, Peter wouldn't know the answer himself as to why he was allowed to keep it. According to Tony, he was a good kid, and the rest of the team knew he wouldn't use it for anything malicious, like obliterating half of all human existence. So, it was a souvenir, a relic that Peter never utilized for anything apart from letting it be some seriously cool decor and a piece he constantly bragged about to his only two friends.

He turned away from the mirror, retrieved the stone from its entrapment in the plastic bricks, and returned to his full-length reflection. The jagged edges dug into the soft inside of his palm in retaliation to the pressure as he squeezed it with a closed fist. With a single thought—one that held details of nearly everything about you—a soft ring of smoke formed a couple of feet away from him on the carpet. His heart thrummed as it quickly moved upward, revealing your form as it went. After a few moments, the puff of smoke faded as it rounded your head, topping off the manifested version of yourself.

Nothing could compare to the real you, but this was close.

The imagined version of you standing before Peter looked like the spitting image of you, almost to the point where, if dressed the same, it would be impossible to tell the two of you apart. Almost. But, there was one thing that let Peter tell the visually deceitful version of you apart from the real one: he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He figured that, while you looked the same on the outside, the inside was missing a few vital features of the real you.

Regardless, Peter struggled to remember that information since your lesser interpretation was still stunning enough to make his heart sink into the never-ending pit in his stomach. His feelings got the better of him, and Peter started his practice in err from the moment he opened his mouth.

He held the stone tight, waving his other hand to you, "Hey—hi, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're Peter." You stated it as if he should have known that already, and he noted it. From what he could tell, you had at least some part of the memory of your actual self, so maybe this version of you could provide an accurate reaction to asking you to get coffee with him.

"Okay, cool. Cool. Yeah, that's. . . cool," Peter trailed.

"Why do you keep saying cool?"

The only problem was that you were real. Unduly real. Down to the slightest mannerisms that anyone but Peter would be able to catch when they spent time with you, and with your stunning looks and perfect quirks brought about by the stone, Peter could remember everything about you. He could hardly hear the absence of your heartbeat from his' sonority, ultimately distracting himself from his original intent.

"So, what did you wanna ask me?"

"You. . . you ask a lot of questions. But, I wanted to know if you could—"

Peter was finally going to get the words out, albeit to someone who was only pretending to be you. He wouldn't have to worry about finishing that project he procrastinated on—this would be his big success of the day. But his web-shooter had gone off erroneously across the room, spraying against the walls and pouring onto the floor from its canister. He jumped away from the source and nearly dropped the stone in the process.

Peter's mind was fleeting, even his rehearsal was going wrong, and he immediately thought of an old trick for speaking to people that he hadn't needed since a young age—he imagined you in your underwear. He didn't mean for it to happen, but if he thought it, the stone made it a reality for as long as he held the little rock. He watched as a red puff of smoke took your clothes into the air, vanishing from your body in less than a second. Underneath, a simple pair of boxer briefs clung to your nether region. Maybe it wasn’t all about the practice to Peter. His mind had thought of this, so it couldn't be that bad to indulge in it.

"Could you come over here?" He asked, throat dry. He needed to feel you to confirm he had not gone completely insane from one too many hits on the head. Peter defeatedly took a few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "Please?"

His heart pounded with each step you took, accepting his wish to draw near. Peter could not help but watch your vulnerability follow ostensibly close behind. In just one beat, you stood directly in front of him. He watched your knees rise and fall on either side of his legs as you sat on his thighs. Peter felt the warmth of your presence, the surprising weight of you on his hairless and sinewy thighs, even if you were empty inside.

Peter was bristling, brown eyes wandering over your exposed form. His body felt immovable, no matter how much he wished to drop the stone and watch you vanish. His head was the only thing not to freeze, the rest of his body turning into a well-sculpted monolith. His jaw moved with a bit of tension, "I didn't ask you to do it like this."

"No, but you thought it."

"How did you. . . ?"

"You thought that, too."

Peter realized that he was practically having a conversation with himself, just through the guise of your face. The details became more apparent; the color of your eyes, the set of your mouth, and the same smile lines appeared as he thought about its utter perfection. He connected that now, asking you to come closer only worsened his issue. Your presence over his prominent bulge made it push the limits of its cotton confines. Slowly, his marble arm broke from his reserved mold, and an empty hand cupped your cheek the same way he had always thought about doing it. He would use both, but one was occupied with creating his living dream. Then his hand slid away and around to the back of your neck, your hair brushing his chewed fingernails and overly scraped knuckles.

He knew that guiding you into the kiss was redundant as he could think about it, but this was far more passionate. As he brought you close, the thought of your smell and the feeling of hot breath joining in concordant timing against each other's skin started to fill his head. At the touch of your lips to his, Peter kissed like someone who had nothing to lose. Like he didn't have the responsibility of seeming to have it all together placed foremost. Like he could be a needy and desperate mess for more than a passing swing around New York. Only now, and only because of you.

His impetuous thinking decided that taking care of his problem now would mean that he could resolve everything else later. He needed to take care of it now; it was the only thought running through his head. Desire.

Breaking away, Peter silently commanded you to slide off your boxers and get on your knees. He caught a glimpse of you as you followed his direction, surprised by how his mind subconsciously filled in the gaps for everything he had never seen.

Your hands worked in a way that left their presence unknown until they were hooked into the band of his boxers, easily tugging down on the well-worn stitching to free Peter's springy dick. He watched your eyes ogle it and how you took it into your hand without a second thought, and while he filled your hand well, he couldn't help but think about his inadequacy. He had seen his teammates' sizes after sharing training sessions with them. Not that he was looking on purpose, but mostly out of insecurity. Peter already paled in comparison to the heights and builds of the others, and while he was far from small, they didn't make him look all that great. Peter started to wonder if the stone affected him in the same way it did you.

With a single thought, he decided to test it. He watched his shaft grow bigger and chub up with a thicker girth. Your hand could barely wrap around it as it had with his true size. It felt like an innocuous veneer to gaining the confidence that he never had. As a result, he was eager to get you on him and make you squirm like one of the criminals he spun webs around.

In seconds, your lips formed an imperfect circle and took the head of the arachnid, and the rest of him, as if it were nothing. Your lips brushed his decent smattering of hair around the base of his cock without convulsion. This version of you had a throat that fit around him like a cock-sleeve, hugging his girth without any of the need for restraint.

"No gag reflex? This is better than any toy I ever made."

Peter's hands found their way back to the rear of your head, controlling the pace at which you took him for his own pleasure. The sheer feeling of something far better than lubed-up rubber made him go wild.

At a certain point, he couldn't remember when his mind started to break reality further than he thought until he was suddenly yanked back to it. Peter started to feel effervescent guilt towards his actions. This is what he wanted, but not how he wanted to get it. Quickly, Peter felt the heavy weight on his chest return, the need to right himself by putting an end to this. He hated that he changed himself to impress something that wasn't even you. He wondered what his mentor would think, what you would think, or how you would react. A small shift inside him sent that weight toward his hand, the one he held the stone in, and it went from its dormant glim keeping the illusion alive to a bright shine, creating something new.

"Get off, get off, please," Peter asked, thinking the words in his head as hard as he could to free himself from his twisted fantasy. You let his stiff, unrelieved dick pop out of your mouth and got off your knees.

"What's wrong, Peter?" He had thought that, too. What was wrong with him?

He could barely stand to face you, but he needed to acknowledge you to make you leave. When he did work up the nerve to look in your direction, the guilt glared back at him. He felt like a creepy monster for even thinking it was a good idea to give in to his urges. The feeling overtook him so much that he didn't even realize your gradual change.

At first, it was your face. The pleasureful expression turned into a sour one, eyebrows funneling together and your upper lip upturned. But, the features of your face pressed forward as if they were made of putty and someone was trying to claw their way out. They stretched out and ballooned until they burst, leaving you headless. Your body went without a head for a few seconds before the more seasoned details of his mentor formed in your absence.

He kept his hand flat, wicking it away from his body and the rest of his arm with the hope that the stone would fall off, but his powers had already made that choice for him. Then, he thought of his suit, his web-shooters, and the communicator that could signal Tony. If he drew attention to the issue, it would resolve itself, but could he successfully explain everything as if it were the typical morning paper arriving at the doorstep? He could try, or at the very least, lie. But that would never solve this issue, though, not in the long run.

Peter formed a mental map of the fastest route to his closet in his head and decided that his backup web-shooters might be strong enough to hold the illusion down and give him time to pry the stone from his nonreciprocating palm. He turned, locking eyes with the monster as it started changing again.

Peter looked on in horror, the stone shining its brightest and shading the monster in terrifying red like a stop sign you see at the last minute when your heart sinks at the thought of being crushed. The soft tear of wet, stretching flesh and its stringy reformation flushed his ears as the beast before him grew. The harsh snap and sound of bones splintering from the fattening weight pierced his sensitive ears; nothing new to him at this point in his life, but he had never heard so many cracks and gushing wounds. Yet, through all the bodily changes, Peter never broke his stare with the amalgamation of his worst thoughts. Its eyes never left him, either. The cold and frighteningly dead stare of non-existent emotion didn't phase him until he heard a heartbeat, one that he believed came from the creature itself.

However, it wasn't the monster's—it was yours, heavy-thudded blood-pumping. The real you and your usually pleasant voice calling for his response. From the other side of the door, he heard you pleading for him to answer and affirm that he was okay. He figured that you must have overheard his distress and the ensuing raucous.

Peter reached for the stone but stopped. Everything was gone. His suit still sat in a messy pile on the floor, but the webbing was gone from the walls. The stain on the carpet was no longer there, and his pants were the only thing absent from his body, but nothing left the confines of his boxers. Had all of it really been in his head?

He quickly answered the door without any precaution, seeing your face still intact.

"Hey, I got you something different than Tony's. I was in line and remembered when you drank out of his cup by mistake and spat it all over the counter. Are you okay? I thought I heard a girl screaming."

“Thank you, and it wasn't a. . . never mind. Do you want to come in and hang?”

“Yeah! But get some pants on first, Spidey. I can't have my thoughts get to me.”

#dark fic #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x gender neutral reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x gn!reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x gn reader #peter parker x gender neutral!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x male reader #tom holland x gender neutral reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark!tom holland #perv!peter parker

[shayyprasad]

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?

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@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