#and i know that the peg shouldn't be there because that's technically his hand instead of foot but i just really wanted to add it

[thewritingautisticat]

IDK if Peg is actually autistic but most of my characters end up autistic so y'know probably. I really just wanted to draw him as a Creature™

[mirkysconcubinefiction]

Quietly Jaded

Pairing: Omega!Peter/Alpha!Kingpin -- Omega!Peter\Avengers.

Summary: Peter Parker is an Omega masquerading as a Beta. A story of student loans, Avengers wanting Spiderman, Avengers wanting Peter Parker for his Omega status, and Peter just done with them. He doesn't need them - he already has an Alpha. Not the best Alpha but... Well... Fuck.

Tags: Major AU, ABO world, Heats/Ruts, Drug Abuse, Dark Personalities, College Peter, Dubious Consent, more added later.

Part 1

Peter hadn't always been the silent type. It grew on him with time. Losing friends, losing family, it was just easier to not talk than to talk - besides school there wasn't much to talk about.

Not like he could discuss being Spiderman?

With college dreams came college debt and even with grants and scholarships, student loans kept a roof over his head and food in his stomach.

Legally no one had to know his gender. He didn't act like most Omegas or Alphas so many people presumed he was a beta which wasn't a bother.

Betas were a safe median.

If Peter Parker was a Beta then so was Spiderman. 

Hero's or vigilante's of justice weren't titles Omegas carried. Not that they were incapable but mostly the world was a shitty place and he was safer as a Beta than Omega.

No worries of being snatched.

No worries of his degree somehow being mishandled.

No worries of being treated like a damsel in need of a minder. Modern America, as progressive as any first world country, was still archaic in nature to a Omegas ability to cope outside of a Pack or Alphas knot.

.

It started as a curiosity or so that's how Peter saw it as. The Avengers paying attention to him was... Unneeded but the geek in him was intrigued.

First was Tony Stark aka Iron Man who appeared from nowhere one cool Autumn evening. It was a quiet night, the witching hour, a time where nothing really happened in the never quiet city. Sitting on a swing made from his webs he was eating a sandwich from his favorite bodega. The grandmother of seven never took no for an answer after he had saved her life and that of her children several times over the years and had even knitted him a scarf once.

Peter still had that scarf.

Mask pulled up to sit along the ridge of his nose he had sat staring out into the world with a gargoyle above him for company. 

"You're softer than I pegged you for."

His senses didn't tingle and that alone kept him there, hanging like a booger from an impossibly high building, and taking a much deserved bite from his sandwich. A cuban torta with extra adobo. 

"So. Kid. Got a name?"

Silence.

Peter chewed and ignored the floating man whose stare went from curious to frustrated.

"It's rude to not speak when spoken to."

Shoving the last of his food into his mouth Peter wiped the crumbs from his chin, pulled down his mask, and with a thumbs up, ripped an end of his webbed swing.

Plummeting like a bowling ball down... Down... And with a well-aimed (practiced) web swung himself away from sight. Iron Man wouldn't find him, not when Peter knew of a well hidden niche that he could slip into and not be seen or leave a heat signature.

Something that Iron Man was trying to do and Peter was grateful for his sensitive ears. 

.

Next was Captain America. Decked out in his uniform and shield. It was a pretty wicked shield and one that Peter had caught before it could hit the cyborg that was destroying a nameless street of the city. 

Spiderman ignored the shouts of 'traitor' and the arrows that followed him but Peter was more than a flexible arachnid. He was quite familiar with this street. It was the street that housed a shit ton of kids.

Kids that had loved it when he opened the fire hydrants or handed out frozen pops because Peter loved kids.

Not because he was an Omega.

Hell no.

He just loved kids. Kids loved him and thought he was cool.

Using the shield to block the occasional laser blast - because of course lasers - Peter lead the cyborg away. His webs helped to drag the thing and keep it from swinging wildly but Peter was more than bendy, more than, web's, he was strength and endurance. 

While the others had stopped trying to kill him - yes those were kill shots - Peter managed to drag the hefty piece of machinery away. Feet digging into the concrete, one hand fisting a bundle of his webs as the other held close to a shield that left his hand tingly. 

From the sewers a mass of crab like machines took the Avengers attention and as he finally reached an open area of an eight lane street Peter didn't panic when the cyborg finally broke free. The webbing shredding and as he fell from the slack Peter turned and tucked himself behind the shield in time for a powerful beam to hit the Vibranium and drag him backwards from the force.

Even in the face of death he thought it was cool. So cool. 

This wasn't his first time facing a cyborg. A giant imitation of a man decked out in weaponry with a human brain attached in its center. Cyborgs bled green and their eyes were yellow pinpoints of awareness. 

Cool but creepy. 

Very creepy. 

With one hand he sent out a web, latched onto a bus and swung it towards the cyborg that put all its attention to the massive vehicle, using each arm to fire laser beams - still so cool - missing Captain America's shield that hit where the brain sat.

Right side, 8 inches from the center, shield at a 70° angle.

A stream of green blood - plasm - and brain matter coated the streets. The shield hit the ground at a roll and lodged into the side of a brick building. A hair's breadth away from the man who had aimed arrows at his head.

Peter was sad that he missed. Not that he couldn't have killed the man but Spiderman had an image to keep up and he was sure kids were peaking through blinds. 

If Hawkeye stared at the shield with wide-eyed 'what the fuck', Peter accepted that as payment.

Asshole.

Had Peter been... Well... Nicer... He would have thrown himself back into the fray helping the Avengers finish iff the crab robots except Peter wasn't that nice and he wasn't that forgiving.

Padding to the twitching machinery Peter took a moment to web himself a mat on the ground and take apart the cyborg. He was quick, knowing exactly what he wanted and where to find it, bundling it in his own web Peter pulled up the edges and folded the edges together and without a backwards glance he left. 

Fuck the Avengers.

.

As Spiderman Peter had the nasty habit in bumping into random heros with hero size complexes and it got to the point where he just waved at the several who tried to stalk him. 

They weren't as stealthy as they thought they were.

As Peter Parker there was no Avengers just debt and homework. The two worlds very rarely collided. Peter Parker was a nobody... Well... He was on the Deans List and top 12% of the university when it cam to grades even if his attendance was far from stellar. 

Thankfully he had made a friend with a doctor who wrote really nice perfectly excusable doctor notes. 

He had done the math. It would be a 2.8% chance he would catch the eyes of anyone Hero related. Nothing he did as a regular schmoe would catch anyone's attention. 

Really.

Honestly.

Of course he never fraction in his own Parker Luck. 

Fuck his Parker Luck and Fuck his inability to think properly after a near 27 hours of no sleep and a lab all to himself. At 1am he had the building to himself and the key card to prove it! 

At 1 am and still wide-eyed with a brain that wouldn't shut off, Peter shouldn't have been allowed near anything that contained chemicals besides H2O. Instead he had 2 walls dedicated to his scribbles with a rainbow of color - thank you crayola - a pyramid of Styrofoam microwaveable ramen and a teetering tower of hot pocket boxes, and a keurig. 

He had an unlimited - well half a box left - of hot chocolate to tide him over and a bag of mini marshmallows to keep the shakes away as he worked on his thesis. Technically his thesis was typed, edited, and awaiting a last read through BUT he was stuck. 

He was so close to creating the perfect drug that he was vibrating with a desperate energy as his friends - the machines scattered around the room - worked to show him if his calculations were correct or he had to start again. 

Staring at the board Peter needed to distract himself from the whirring and beeping. Headphones in place he jump started his bluetooth and filled the silence with his google playlist set to play his thumbs up.

As it was so late and he was alone in the building Peter didn't think singing along to his playlist would be a big deal. Being an Omega he had few quirks that were... Questionable. 

Omega's were notorious for their allurement beyond their scent. Many were artists, creators of music, rhythm, designers, they were architects, chefs, Omegas were once considered Sirens and Muses of the God's... While Peter could sketch and recite the periodic table backwards and forwards he could sing.

There was something about his voice that could draw attention or put someone to sleep if he so wished. A lullaby sung softly and with his will alone he could hush a colicky baby in minutes much to the relief of the parents he had babysit for. 

Peter blamed Toni Braxton. 

Peter blamed the open windows to the lab.

Peter blamed the chaos that happened less than a mile away from the University and the Hulk that somehow broke away from the group and all but bulldozed himself to the lonely building off set from the rest of the school. 

Peter blamed... Well... He blamed Tony Stark for being a nosy douche of a man and tuning into the voice singing a very heartfelt rendition of un-break my heart. 

Outside the lab Tony watches as the Hulk shifts back to being just Bruce and the man is swaying, "Omega." 

Tony's gaze swivel down to where Bruce is laid out on the ground, dazed. "What?" Had he heard the man right.

"Hulk..." It was difficult to speak so soon after a change but Bruce managed one more word, "Omega." And it didn't take much to put two and two together and Tony moved until he was hovering by the only window lit out of the building.

Hair a mess, clothes askew, ass perched on the a desk, sat a young man staring at a dry erase board and hands moved with each dip and rise. The boy was moving, a dry eraser in one hand and a purple marker in another as he wrote a different scribble. 

Tony was smart, brilliant even, but even if he squinted he couldn't make out what was written. There was numbers with familiar sequences but even JARVIS who had scanned the room was at a lost and suggested the scribbles were a code.

Quiet filled the room and he took that moment to shush his team and soon another song had the younger man humming, head nodding to a beat.

"Send away for a priceless gift One not subtle, one not on the list Send away for a perfect world One not simply, so absurd In these times of doing what you're told

Keep these feelings, no one knows

What ever happened to the young man's heart? Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart..."

Maybe he was just tired but Peter didn't feel the eyes watching him. There was no warning from his spider senses just a quiet madness as he darted through the room. The keurig churning out hot chocolates and fueling the madness of no sleep and rainbow scribbles.

.

A.M. comes with bright lights and failure.

It was tempting to swipe the board clean but Peter was passed out under the only desk that would block out the sun with his lumpy backpack as a pillow.

It's an awkward way to sleep but Peter isn't picky. He's slept in worse conditions, even upside down once, and he had a 48 hour hold on that particular lab. 

The click of the door unlocking doesn't wake him. The tap of heeled leather Oxford shoes doesn't wake him as said shoes stroll through the room until they pause right where he was sleeping. 

Eye's hidden by sunglasses worth more than all the textbooks he was sleeping on, Peter didn't notice the frown on the man's face or the flurry of texts the man was sending before he crouched and woke Peter with a gentle nudge.

What did wake Peter was his alarm on his phone. A far too loud alarm that startled him enough he jerked awake, banging an elbow and his head on the desk. Swearing a storm, mind addled by sleep, Peter fumbled for his phone and dropped it.

Blinking at the pair of dress shoes, Peter held his breadth as he looked up... And up... Into familiar brown eyes. "Who the fuck are you?"

An eyebrow arched, "Everyone knows who I am."

No. Spiderman knew Tony Stark. Peter Parker could care less. "Are you lost?" 

"Nope." The man rocked on his heels, eyes gazing around. "Came to see you. Interesting finding someone like you here of all places."

Peter frowned, "I'm not squatting. I wouldn't be the first person catching a nap trying create something big."

"Big hu?" His hands slipped into his slack pockets, "the hot pockets are shit for your metabolism by the way."

"They're cheap and I'm broke. I'm guessing you wouldn't understand the concept of broke." Peter tried to lay back down and cover his eyes with his arm, legs folded. 

"Yet with no full-time job you somehow have managed to chip away at your student loans. I'm impressed."

A warning buzz settles over him and Peter keeps himself as nonchalant as he can unwilling to give the Alpha the show of panic that he felt. "This is a school of side hustles. Take your pick and leave."

A moment passes in quiet but Tony doesn't leave. Why would he? "Quite rude." The man murmurs, "Is that anyway to..."

"Leave before I call security." Peter interrupts, "You're a strange old man alone in a room with a sleeping student, only perverts stay where they're not wanted."

"Pervert? Pervert!"

"Yes. Pervert." Arm dropping away Peter made a point to glare into the yellowish hue of the glasses. "I've asked you to leave and you refuse. You are not my professor or the janitor. This is my lab and either you picked the lock or bribed someone and I'll be sure to tell the Dean that a creepy old man was allowed into his building to harass a student."

"Actually this is my lab. I own this building." Tony expected some form of recognition instead he got snark. 

"Did you piss on the wall or write your name on it like a petulant child?"

It's not often that Tony finds himself without words but his lips part in surprise before. He lets out a whoosh of air shakes his head. "For an Omega you're a mouthy little thing."

The quiet is met with Peter blinking and Tony waiting. If Peter was smart he would have immediately denied any accusation or stood in righteous anger... Instead the younger man laughed. "That..." Peter folded his hands on his stomach and grinned, "is quite a compliment thank you." Tony frowned and Peter batted his eyelashes. "I'm pretty enough to pass for an Omega has to be the nicest thing anyone has said to me this semester."

"Just this semester?" Tony couldn't help but ask.

"Yep." 

The quiet stretched far longer than was comfortable and Tony sighed, "I have a proposition for you."

"No."

His carefully constructed speech and patience flew out the window as he was interrupted, "No?"

"No." Peter repeated, slowly. "N. O." He spelled out just in case.

"No? You can't tell me no."

"I can, I did, and I don't care." Peter frowned before he unfolded himself and crawled out from under the desk and brushed the dust off his wrinkled two-day old clothes, "Alphas who can't accept a no and argue over the word are a danger to society." Tony wasn't sure how someone that wasn't eye level could make him feel small.

"Do you know who I am?" The kid arched a brow, took a step back, and eyes him from the tips of his shoes to his perfectly coiffed hair. 

"Yes." Tony preened, "You're a misogynistic ass hole who thinks you can walk into my lab unannounced and get away with harassing a student and bringing up genders as if the position of my scent glands justifies your casual dismissal of my constitutional rights. You can't belittle or coerce me into agreeing to anything you have to say based on your purse strings or that you imply ownership on a building that was built from multiple donations. If I was an Omega I have every right to kick you in the nuts and get away with scratching your eyes out."

Tony's lips pressed into a firm irritated line.

"Seeing as I'm not I'll just settle for telling you to get the fuck out of my lab or I will scream murder. I'm a beta on beta kinda guy, so keep your paws off my no-no spots."

It was unexpected, Tony twitched as Peter's hands touched him - shoved him really - right out the door. Tony would never admit to sputtering or tripping over his own feet as he was pushed out the lab and the door firmly locked behind him. 

Confused and slightly embarrassed he adjusted his blazer and nonchalantly walked away. I'm a beta on beta kinda guy... the words are like oil and water, his skin tingles where the younger man's hand roamed, the heat that made that primal part of his brain rear up and whisper Omega.

Spiderman was an escape. 

There was times when he could swing away his worries with dizzying feats of near deaths, the adrenaline rush doing more for him than any drug on the market. 

There was times, like that morning, when he would climb to the highest point, tuck himself into a corner, and hide. He was a millennial with a safe space and it was the safest space to exist in N.Y. 

Just him and the pigeons. 

Times like this he wondered how far he could fall without instinct there to make him survive and carry on another day? 

Curling in on himself he hugged his knees tight to himself and let the tears fall. It wasn't often that he cried but when he did it was usually quiet and when he was alone. No one could see him weak, no one could see him break, no one could... A trumpet broke his depressive silence. An unexpected noise at an impossible height except it was a drone. 

The four propellers were whisper quiet and a white flag waved in the wind.

"Fuck." Summed it up.

A 3d hologram appeared and it was the image of Princes Leia kept him sitting, curious, vs jumping off the ledge. "Hello itsy bittsy spider."

Peter narrowed his eye's and flicked out a web, the drone was quick to swerve.

"You're cordially invited to attend a gathering..." Diving off the building was a better option than listening to Tony Stark invite him to a Tea Party as if they were friends. You don't forgive people who tried to kill you.

Especially if they didn't apologise.

Especially if they stalked you.

.

Since being bitten by a radioactive spider like some weird comic book character, Peter had gone through physical and mental changes. Presenting as an Omega had come later, in fact his first spike of heat happened during a particular difficult battle with none other than Kingpin himself.

It had been a gory fight with Peter having to plow through layers of underlings from normal everyday thugs to enhanced goons that were blood thirsty to get the bounty Kingpin had put on his head.

It was a hefty bounty too.

Just enough where Peter contemplated killing himself off for profit. Kingpin had been his usual boastful self and holding a weapon that was more sci-fi than the usual glock.

They had stood in a penthouse that had made him hyper aware he was dripping blood on the cream-colored carpet and the beautiful statues were judging him. 

Kingpin had a spiel like all super villains and Peter had listened as his mind raked over how he would survive this encounter when the A.C. kicked on. Cool filtered air pushed from the vents, Peter had shivered as it passed over his heated flesh that peaked from the patches of bare skin, it had taken moments for that devilish curl of the Kingpin's lips to unfurl and something else come forth.

Kingpin was a force of human nature. Built by weights and sheer spite. He was aggression, darkness, he was the devil amongst demons, he was a pendulum that swung between the dark side of the underworld and the light side of a family man. 

Most importantly. 

Kingpin was an Alpha. 

An Alpha tied to a Beta and a son.

Dark blue eyes shifted, bleeding red before the massive bulk of a man lifted the gun and fired a single shot. The sizzle of the blast prickled the side of his face as the beam shot over his shoulder and the thump of a body falling told him that his spider senses were off. 

Peter had studied many things but Omegean Biology wasn't one of them. He knew the fundamentals like many but the liquid fire that pooled at the base of his spine and slithered its way up left him standing rigid and an ache between his legs had him hissing.

Peter didn't remember closing his eyes, he didn't hear Kingpin move, his senses were so out-of-order he flinched when a large hand settled atop his head. "Shhh." Peter felt himself tugged into Kingpins girth, it had made him tremble and a whine had escaped him.

Later. Much later. Peter would learn that the man who was intent on killing him had cuddled him on an impossibly massive bed, the Alpha crooning, hands that could bend steel caressed him like a lover would, and for three days helped him through his first heat.

"Call me Wilson. Wilson Fisk."

Awareness had come in doses. The feel of soft cotton against his bare skin, the slick between his thighs, the ache somewhere deep and personal, classical music played in the background drowning the hitch in his chest, relief had been a burst of gratitude as shaky fingers touched the familiar texture of his torn mask.

The stretchy fabric cover his nose an encircled his cheeks and curved along his brow, seemingly glued to his skin. Hair, ears, lips, and chin were as exposed as the rest of him.

Before Peter could sit up a hand came from no where and settled on his chest, thumb and finger digging into his collarbone as he was pushed back into the mattress.

Pliant.

Weak.

A mess. 

Kingpin was a solid presence he hadn't noticed until that moment. Hard naked lines with impossibly wide shoulders and solid smooth skin with not a hint of hair except for two perfectly sculpted eyebrows that furrowed in contemplation. "Where do we go from here Spiderman?" 

It had been when that hand slipped and encircled his throat did Peter feel his body involuntarily move. Legs splaying openly and back arching as a familiar haze of arousal overwhelmed the need to run.

Wilson was an exceptional lover. His first Alpha, his first Knot, Peter never expected to be the Mistress of his arche nemesis, he didn't expect to have heats that were bursts of short frequent intervals, he didn't expect the open invitation to spend it with the Alpha, and he didn't expect the absolute possessiveness of Wilson or just how much control an Alpha like Wilson had over an Omega like Peter. 

"Save the world but you will not interfere with my organization and you will be my most prized possession."

It was a story twisted by biology, twisted by the illogical logic of an emotion one could say was love if you squint, and the reason Spiderman dressed as a different character jumped from the side lines and into traffic, using his strength to flip a car that was chasing the Kingpin. 

It rankled something deep that the urge to protect made him feel like a villain and the mocking laughter of Kingpin getting away hit him hard. 

Fighting The Avengers to keep the Alpha alive had never been part of the plan, watching the chase from a random store front window, hearing the helicopters, it was a spur of the moment decision to steal a face bandana with a skull smile and a pair of polarized wide swimming goggles.

Running fast and hard he didn't use his webs and instead focused on his natural talent and that primal urge to protect the knot-head responsible to keep him blissed out for his next upcoming heat.

Toe to toe with Captain America and the Winter Soldier was... Thrilling. As Spiderman there was an awareness of maintaining his cool but as a stranger with a cheap mask and flannel shirt Peter could catch the Winter shoulders Vibranium arm and force the man to the ground before kicking Captain America's shield and tossing the pompous soldier away like a rag doll.

Peter's body moves on auto pilot as he flips backwards and moves with grace and fluidity as a mess of weaponry aim for him. Between Iron Man's blasts, Hawkeyes arrows, Black Widows bullets, Peter feels like he's dancing on the edge of death and it leaves him feeling hot and aroused. 

Slipping beneath an abandoned truck he sticks his hand on the underside and with hard pushes against the asphalt he uses the truck to plow through what traffic is left and holding his breadth Peter pushed up with his leg and the truck flipped, the roof smashing on the ground and catching sparks.

Letting out a whoop, his flannel shirt wafting in the air he grinned behind the mask as he surfed for a stretch of time before coming to a halt and with Iron Man trailing him Peter ran.

Hard.

Fast.

Through the city.

Forcing the Avengers to chase him and not Kingpin.

More later...

*Part 2*