#dark!peter x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deftmeat · 2 years ago

Text

‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 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?”

752 notes · View notes

yichuuonvenus · 1 year ago

Text

The Willow Maid

Dark!Peter Parker x Reader

~Description~

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

~Warnings~

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

You were enchanting…

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

Your hair always seemed to shine in the moonlight.

Just like right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew he had to try again.

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Days went by.

Then weeks.

Then months…

He was nowhere to be found.

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

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

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

Oh how wrong you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Relax… my maiden relax,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m freeing you, my dear maiden.”

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

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

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

His final thought was only of you.

At least his body would remain close to you.

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

208 notes · View notes

lokislastlove · 3 years ago

Note

would you rather obsessive neighbor Peter parker. he always finds a way to finness his way into your apartment. Or Uber driver Bucky. somehow he always ends up picking up your driving request. His car is a super popular car so you arent sure if he is stalking you or it a coincidence

Ok so this kind of inspired a little drabble (seriously how do you do this to me every time?) basically I love creepy neighbors and this is where my mind went…. 😬 🖤🤍🖤🤍

Sticky Situation (Dark!Peter x Reader)

Summary: You develop a crush on a new neighbor.

Notes: no real warnings other than implied kidnapping and dark Peter. It’s a drabble under 2k. 🤍

—

The front door finally gives after a moment of pushing, heavy metal dragging loudly over the permanently scratched frame. Like most people in the city, you look forward to getting home after a long work day. But, for you, the best moment of your day is when you get to check your mail.

Smiling, you walk across the narrow lobby and toward the shining wall of mailboxes. You unlock your box and, like clockwork, the guy from apartment 4E steps up a few feet away before you’ve had the chance to flip through all the junk mail.

It’s been three months since you moved in and not a single work day has passed where he hasn't been there to greet you with a smile and shy “hey”. At first you found it a bit creepy, but he never made a move, or said anything weird, he barely looked at you long enough to make you uncomfortable.

“Please tell me you put this in my box?” He asks pleadingly as he adjusts his glasses.

“Uh,” voice stutters as you read the flyer in his hand, “sadly, no. I am not a member of the building’s doom metal band.”

You fight a smile and he chuckles. Damn, even his laugh is adorable. You flick through your mail one more time, trying to drag out the time before he slams his mailbox closed. You follow quickly, but not too quickly, you don’t want him to think you’re a creep. Stuffing the junk mail into the recycle bin, you hover a couple feet behind him as you wait for the elevator.

He hums along to the song on his single earbud and fidgets with the keys in his hand. Perfectly casual, like he doesn’t even realize you’re there. You take the time to appreciate the view his tight jeans give you, a hint of a shapely firm ass and thighs. He definitely works out.

The elevator dings and you suck in a quick breath as you timidly enter the small space beside him. He smiles at you as he presses your floor and then his floor without prompting. You both have done this so many times it doesn’t need to be said anymore.

“Thanks,” you mutter automatically as you stare at your shoes and hold your purse strap tightly.

“My pleasure,” he returns, smirking when he catches you look up at the way his voice deepens.

The elevator dings and you step out with a nervous, “goodnight,” and small wave.

“See you,” he smiles brushing back his curly locks.

God, why can’t you be cooler? Why can you never think of something funny or interesting to say to keep him talking? Always safer to stay quiet than embarrass yourself, you suppose. You drag your feet to your door, sighing at the prospect of wasting another lonely night of junk food and tv. If only you could be spontaneous for once in your life.

—

Friday is bittersweet as you celebrate the end of the workweek but also the last day you get to see 4E for two days. You go to your mailbox, smiling in anticipation as you shove in the key and twist. You pull out the measly stack of junk and flip through it slowly as you glance around the lobby for him. He must be late. You move to the trash can at the end of the row, and use up some time cleaning out your purse. Still no sign of him.

You slowly re-read and toss each piece of junk mail until you are left with a single envelope, probably more ads. Disappointment tugs at your shoulders as you sigh at the empty lobby. He’s not coming.

You tear open the envelope, ignoring the hand written address on the front and pull out a single piece of lined notebook paper. You unfold it with a frown and begin to read the hastily written note in black marker.

“Hey 3E! I have to go out of town for a day or two and didn’t want you to think I ditched you on our nightly elevator ride. Truth is I am a coward and couldn’t get the courage to ask you properly on a date. Which makes the fact that I’m asking you for a favor even more embarrassing...The problem is I left my cat, Padme, at home alone. I thought that maybe you could stop in and check on her maybe give her some catnip from the cabinet above the stove to keep her happy. No pressure, though! She’ll survive, she has food and water. But, if you're feeling neighborly, I keep a key taped under the door mat. Thank you so much! I’ll see you soon – Peter (aka 4E).”

You read the note through multiple times in disbelief, laughing again at the post script at the bottom reading, “just please don’t steal my stuff, my cat is very possessive of her things. ;)”

You bite your lip as you think it over, your first thought is instantly, “Aw poor kitty.” You don’t really see a downside, in fact, he’s the one risking the most by trusting a total stranger to enter his home. But the curiosity compels you into the elevator where you promptly press the button for the fourth floor.

You stand outside, staring at the 4E on the door and listening for any indication he might be home… just incase his plans changed. But, there is nothing but silence for several minutes. You nudge the mat with your toe and flip up the top corner, instantly spotting the black duct tape camouflaged across the rubber bottom.

You glance down the hall, nervous to be accused of breaking and entering as you pluck the silver key from under the tape. With a deep breath you unlock the door and poke your head into the dim apartment. Nothing but the stove top light and one standing lamp in the corner to light the entire space.

The floor plan is similar to yours, open kitchen and living space with a bedroom and bathroom down the short hall, though his has a distinctly more bachelor-pad vibe. The dark leather furniture and exposed brick seem to absorb what little light there is and you squint as you look around for the cat.

“Hello?” You call nervously through the still air.

You step inside and close the door, the last thing you need is to go searching for an escaped cat. Seeing his home feels oddly intimate, especially without him there. It makes you fidget, like you’re doing something wrong even though you had, in fact, been invited.

You're pleasantly surprised by the modern decor blended with the nerdy memorabilia. Clearly, he has some style based on cohesive look and his neat placement of his most prized possessions, like the signed replica of Captain America’s shield on the wall, something you would definitely consider stealing.

A soft meow cuts through the silence and your eyes spot the small tabby cat blinking at you from the end of the dark hall.

“Hi, Padme,” you lilt sweetly. “Aren't you a cutie. I didn’t know your dad was such a nerd, but I find that pretty cute too.”

She meows again, clearly unimpressed with you and skitters into the dark back room. You call after her and follow instinctively, listening for her soft mews and the clack of her claws on the wood floor as you get closer.

You reach around the door frame, feeling around for a light switch but find none. “Spspsp, come on Padme. You want some catnip? Come on out baby.”

There is a scuffle and a startled cat cry from within and you panic as you move inside holding your hands out to keep yourself from running into anything.

“Kitty? Here kitty, are you ok?” you worry as you timidly take a couple more steps forward, sweeping your hands out in front of you.

You pull your hand back with a gasp at the feel of something wet and sticky. You pause and slowly put your hand out again, “Padme?”

Your hand runs into a long string like line, and your first thought is a clothes line, but why is it sticky? Ick, maybe it better not to know why. You go to release the line but your hand refuses to open. You bring your other hand up to pull it off of you but you end up trapping both hands to the line.

Panic flairs instantly as you tug against the cord, kicking out in fear as more parts of your body become tangled in the invisible web-like trap. But that’s not possible, or at least... it shouldn’t be.

“Help! Help me!” You scream as your body becomes completely bound in the gluey strands, but no one hears you.

Hours pass and your voice turns scratchy, burning with pain as your body slumps in exhaustion but is held upright by your unyielding bonds. The harder you fight the more secure your restraints become until you are completely paralyzed and hanging dumbly, waiting for someone to find you.

The morning light rises, and your eyes adjust to the dim light, black out curtains keeping most of the light out even as the peak of the day comes and goes. You have no idea how long you’ve been there crying and pleading to the silence, but as the orange sunset shines through the tight blinds you finally hear the front door open and close.

“Hello?” You croak, every inch of you aching and stiff as you are forced to listen to the slow steady footsteps.

They seem unhurried, relaxed even, though you know they must have heard you. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest in terror. A light switch flicks on in the hallway, bathing you in a bright light at your back. You watch as a shadow grows along the ground. Its the most you can see as your head is stuck facing the other direction, awkwardly.

“Peter?” You whimper quietly as you feel a heat along your back.

He chuckles against you ear and whispers darkly, “caught ya.”

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @queenoftheworldisdead @threeminutesoflife @emberenchanted @buttercupfangirl @needleandhammer @lokiswildheartcantbebroken @thiskindahotkindamusic @caffiend-queen

#dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark fic #MCU #Drabble #creepy neighbor

566 notes · View notes

lillyrob · 10 months ago

Text

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

8K notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months ago

Text

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang.

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to.

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you.

“This her?” one of them grumbled.

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating.

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked.

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.”

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding.

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own.

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?”

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table.

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves.

“What happened?” you asked carefully.

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.”

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on.

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.”

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two.

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal.

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?”

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up.

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession.

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table.

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?”

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.”

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness.

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…”

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone.

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…”

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.”

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.”

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile.

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.”

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual.

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.”

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly.

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more.

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways.

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–”

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run.

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital.

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.”

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly.

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel.

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…”

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night…

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger.

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper.

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?”

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement.

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.”

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…”

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom.

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit.

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed.

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen.

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now.

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral.

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.”

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped.

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly.

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?”

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss.

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional.

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches.

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees.

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag.

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?”

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded.

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables.

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him.

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing.

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space.

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition.

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?”

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat.

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?”

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression.

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug.

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him.

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?”

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language.

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.”

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?”

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.”

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared.

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.”

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long.

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body.

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself.

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat.

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms.

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows.

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of.

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water.

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow.

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest.

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit.

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.”

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest.

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.”

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat.

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate.

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.”

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter.

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such.

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks.

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack.

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone.

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.”

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together.

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently.

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it.

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin.

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better.

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next.

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon.

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs.

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps.

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors.

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly.

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door.

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination.

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit.

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both.

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently.

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.”

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon.

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall.

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable.

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear.

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head.

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused.

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind.

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear.

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head.

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…”

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment.

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music.

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice.

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder.

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…”

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips.

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder.

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard.

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame.

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle.

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape.

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark.

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered.

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done.

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire.

“And?” Bucky fished.

“For hurting you…”

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm.

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest.

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky.

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him.

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply.

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed.

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better.

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress.

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge.

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room.

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame.

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you.

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses.

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed.

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?”

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie.

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.”

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core.

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul.

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…”

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you.

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips.

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…”

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body.

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.”

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge.

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission.

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity.

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below.

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you.

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?”

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base.

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch.

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you.

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy.

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you.

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit.

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!”

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum.

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth.

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?”

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity.

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him.

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile.

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you.

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him.

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…”

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom.

6K notes · View notes

arpicityandneed · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! If it's still open, somniphillia andsticky? And/or 18+ peter?

a/n: anon... what if I kiss you on the lips for giving me my first peter ask?

18+ f!reader. established relationship. college student Spiderman!Peter. somnophilia. creampie.

He came in through the window, his movements silent and all his senses attuned to you sleeping on your bed in the corner of the studio apartment.

Peter wasn't a cocky guy, but seeing your lush form wrapped up half naked in the sheets made him feel ten feet tall. You were his. Just his. And in every way you trusted him to take care of you, protect you, love you.

He'd already been aching for you after being out all night again, but damn seeing the curve of your ass as you slept in one of his shirts had him hard in seconds.

He pulled the sheet off you slowly without waking you-- wanting to keep you soft and sweet as long as possible. He thought you were adorable when you were sleepy, clingy and whiny in a way you never let yourself be when you were fully awake.

The spiderman suit came off in only a few pieces and he was left in his boxers, a prominent wet spot where his cock wouldn't stop leaking. Those got pushed down his thighs and tossed over his shoudler before he climbed into bed behind you.

You mumbled his name but didn't wake, which wasn't surprising since it was damn near 3am.

Peter groaned softly when he gently reached between your legs and found you wet and slick. Poor baby, taking care of yourself when I'm busy.

He slipped one finger into you, finding your hole relaxed and eager around his finger before he added another. By the third finger your hips were moving on instinct and he was smirking to himself. His needy lil girl couldn't be patient even in her sleep.

It was easy to line himself up with your hole, it was harder to go slow enough not to wake you. Inch by inch he buried himself in your wet heat until his tip was kissing your cervix.

You moaned and clenched around him but beyond your eyelids fluttering you were still dreaming.

"I gotcha," Peter mumbled as he rocked into you, slow and steady easing you onto your stomach.

Each thrust was compounded by the simple trust between you two. Peter's mind flashed back to the first time you brought this up.

"Just fuck me in my sleep, babe. I miss you too much anyway." You'd been half joking at first, but when Peter had interjected incredulously,

"What, you want me to use you and let you wake up with my cum leaking out of you?"

Your eyes went dark and you weren't joking anymore when you nodded. "That.. that actually sounds hot."

So Peter didn't feel any shame as he used your perfect pussy to get off, your slick coating his balls as he grunted and tried to keep himself quiet. His eyes rolled back into the back of his head everytime you clenched around him on instinct and he got close faster than he ever thought possible.

Just a slut for my cock huh baby? Don't worry, I'll leave you a big surprise for the morning, perv.

He couldn't resist whispering in your ear as his body covered yours, his thick shaft stretching you out so beautifully. He wondered if you'd still feel sore the next morning- the thought made his balls ache.

When he came he had to bite his fist as he groaned, loading you up with spurt after spurt of his cum. HIs hand reached out grab the headboard not realizing he left a hadnprint dent from squeezing too hard.

He pulled out slowly and watched his cum leak out of your gaping pussy, scrambling for his phone to snap a pic before laying down beside you. Cuddling close and kissing your shoulder sweetly.

Fuck he loved you.

#f!reader #peter ☆#peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker #spider man x reader smut #spider man x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman smut #spiderman #tw dark content #dark content ask game ☆#mina writes ☆#tw somno #tw somnophilia #tw free use

3K notes · View notes

sincericida · 2 years ago

Text

Rereading for the reason of being toooooo good!

Symbiote: Part One

dark!Peter Parker x Reader (fem) , platonic!Miles Morales x Reader

Summary: You host your best friends, Miles and Peter over to your home for your weekly Wednesday night board games and dinner. Peter’s late, and something is very wrong.

Warnings: 18+ noncon touch, scary Peter, curse words, mentions of fighting and blood. What do you call it when you get willingly kidnapped?

Symbiote Navigation Symbiote Playlist Crossposted on AO3

Part Two Finale

Your kitchen smelled incredible every Wednesday night like clockwork. For the past few years Wednesdays were for decompressing, eating killer food and playing board games until you pass out on the couch. Your best friends, Peter and Miles were due to arrive twenty minutes ago - sending you into a quiet panic.

When your two best friends are crime fighting heroes you tend to worry. So you pace, stopping occasionally to make sure the food is cooking well. “They’ll be here,” you whisper to yourself. Your favorite music played from your tv’s sound-bar, keeping you level headed and from dipping into protective best friend territory. You know, the kind when you text your friends and call them about fifteen times each and leave them numerous voicemails along with far too many texts.

The oven dings just as someone knocks on the door. You let out a long sigh, finally able to breathe after worrying so much. “Just one sec!” You yell as you took the food out of the oven, hearing another knock on your door. “Coming, I promise!”

Sitting the pan down on the towel covering the counter top you turn on your sock covered heels as you wiped your hands on your pants. You walk to the door and open it, smiling widely, “Well, there you are!” “Aye! There’s my girl!” Your best friend Miles smiled warmly as his arms pulled you into a warm embrace. You grunt as he squeezed you tighter, “Too strong, Miles!”

Miles released you, chuckling as you motioned him inside, “come on in! How are you, dear? I was worried sick about you.” Before you shut the door, you look around for Peter outside. “Miles, have you seen Pete? Or heard from him?” You ask, walking back over to the stovetop and mixing up a side dish. “He hasn’t texted all day, I’m a little concerned. It’s just not like him.”

Miles shook his head as he braced his hands on the counter in front of him. “I haven’t seen him or heard from him either, Y/N. He didn’t tell me of any intense Spidey stuff going on lately. The last time he texted me was last night close to his patrol ending,” he explains, pulling out his cellphone to read the message. “He said ‘weird activity around the park - I’ll text if I need you’ and never texted back. I fell asleep and then just forgot to check back with him.”

The room was tense as both of you radiated concern, you pull out your phone beginning to call Peter. It rang once and ended. You shake your head, trying again. No answer. Miles calls him and the same happens to him, one ring and ending. “Is he ending the calls himself?” Miles asks, furrowing his brows as he tried once more to call Peter.

But then three slow knocks rang from the door. Miles lowers his phone as you both stare at each other before looking at the door. You rush over and open it, seeing Peter standing there. Miles let’s out a content sigh seeing his friend, “Thank gods.”

“Oh my gosh, Pete! We were so worried!” You say, throwing your arms around him in a warm embrace. “Gosh, you’re freezing - come inside!” You say, pushing Peter into the house and onto your couch.

“We have been worried sick about you,” you say, moving Peter’s fluffy hair from his face. His eyes seem to glance over to you, you could feel it. “What happened?”

“You kinda fell off of the radar after you texted me last night,” Miles says, flashing his eyes at you - his brows furrowed seeing Peter sitting so upright and quite, staring at the wall. “Peter?”

Silence.

You and Miles throw blankets over Peter as he sits on your couch, still seeming to be staring past you both - completely unmoved. Again, you and Miles look towards each other, having a complete conversation in glances. Miles smacks his lips together before sitting down, rubbing his hands on his jeans as he sits forward towards Peter.

“Pete, you good, man?” Miles asks as Peter seems to snap out of whatever was going on with him - turning towards him as he smirked. He looked tired. “Yeah, M. I’m - I’m good.” He shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure? We were really worried about you, like pretty bad worried,” Miles explains, adjusting in the chair he was sitting in across from Peter.

“I said I’m fine,” Peter snapped - his voice raspy. You and Miles look at each other with wide eyes before you look back to Peter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry,” Miles says reluctantly, looking down at the ground trying to divert his gaze from Peter.

Peter was like a big brother to Miles - this is not how Peter acts normally. He’s kind and funny - constantly attentive and making sure the two of you are okay. You guys were the three amigos and had been for years now - really like a tiny found-family. You and Peter met Miles at FEAST three years ago, becoming fast friends. After finding out about Miles’ powers Peter took him in under his wing, teaching him his tricks and moves and how to better harness his abilities. Ever since then the three of you have been inseparable - hanging out every Wednesday without fail and seeing each other whenever possible. You were the mom of the group, Miles was the kid brother despite being in his early twenties and Peter was the glue, the comedic timing - always saying the right thing just when you need it.

But this? This - whatever was going on was a stark contrast from the normal camaraderie the three of you shared. The room was thick and tense. Peter’s blank stare sent shivers up your spine as you glance over to Miles, seeing the sadness and confusion in his eyes - looking defeated by his best friend and mentor’s actions.

“Well, uh - dinner is ready.. let’s go eat,” you motion the two over to the table, hoping to ease the awkwardness. “I’m sure you guys will love it. I worked extra hard. Eat up!” You sit at the head of the table between Miles and Peter, watching as Miles seems to basically inhale the entire plate before you could finish your first few bites.

Peter hadn’t touched his food though. He sat, staring off into the kitchen past Miles. His sweet eyes were dark, seedy - something was definitely off. The way he had been acting for really the last 24 hours was completely out of character for Peter. You gently place your hand on his, “Pete? Do you want me to put your plate in the oven until you’re hungry?”

He didn’t speak, he didn’t move - he just stared past Miles, into the kitchen.

You and Miles glance at each other once more, both of you growing more concerned for your friend with every passing moment. Miles looked at Peter’s plate, then to you - giving you a small nod of approval to take the plate.

“Well, I’m just going to go ahead and put this up for you, Pete - and Miles can start dealing Uno cards, okay? Unless you want me to kick your ass in Scrabble.” You go to grab Peter’s plate, but his large left hand wraps around your wrist, causing you to drop the plate back onto the table loudly.

Miles looks up staring at the scene in front of him. He sees the terror in your eyes as Peter gripped your wrist.

You look at your best friend, still unmoved - not even looking at you. Your heart raced, confused by his actions. His grip tightened, gaining a wince from you as you try to pull away from him. He doesn’t budge. His arm doesn’t even move though you were using all of your strength to pull away.

“What the hell?” Miles speaks with his mouth full of food, looking as Peter’s knuckles grow white from holding your wrist so tightly. “Why are you holding her wrist like that?”

Peter smiles villainously, beginning to dig his nails into your flesh. “Aye, man - stop!” Miles yells, tossing his fork onto the table. “Why are you grabbing her like that?! It’s disrespectful. This isn’t you, Pete.”

Peter doesn’t budge, instead he slowly turns his head towards you - his dark eyes peering at you through his long lashes. Your heart drops seeing Peter this way. “Pete, you’re starting to really freak me out,” you whisper trying to pull your wrist from his firm grip again, but his fingernails begin to dig so hard it draws blood.

Miles stands, “Peter, I said sto-.”

Before Miles could finish his sentence a large black slime like material ripped out of Peter’s chest - slamming Miles into the refrigerator a few yards from where you stood. Vanishing just as quickly as it appeared.

“Oh my god,” you finally rip away from Peter, falling onto the floor as he stood up from the chair he had been sitting in. Peter looked down at you, smirking villainously as he started to speak, his tone sarcastic, “So sorry, I’m just not myself right now.”

“What happened to you, Peter? What’s going on with you?” You ask as tears began to form in your eyes - trying to blink them away and keep your vision on him. Everything was happening so fast it was hard to wrap your brain around what was going on. Your eyes quickly dart over to Miles, seeing him knocked out from whatever that was that just came out of Peter’s chest. Your refrigerator was completely demolished. “I think you really hurt him, Peter.” Your voice breaks.

“Oh, would you stop saying that fucking name,” Peter growls, rolling his eyes as he bends down towards you. “Peter isn’t really in charge right now.” He inhales sharply, eyes rolling in the back of his head as your aroma envelopes his senses, he moans, “I see why he’s friends with you. I can feel why he’s friends with you.”

“Wh - What?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows as you start to scoot away from him. He just smirks, watching you scoot towards where Miles laid - almost as if he were enjoying it, watching you struggle. Miles had begun to slip back into consciousness as you slowly shook him awake. “Are you okay, Miles? Please be okay - please, please.”

“I’m okay,” Miles groans, bracing himself on you in front of the demolished refrigerator. “Y/N, are you okay?” His palm gripped his chest as he took a deep inhale, so could tell he was really hurt. If it wasn’t for his powers Miles would probably be dead.

“You’ll heal, Miles,” you breathe, rubbing your thumb on his cheek, sitting in front of him. “It’s gonna be okay.” He nods, wincing as he sat up fully. You felt helpless - a feeling you hated.

Peter gasps loudly, breathing heavily as the two of you turn towards him. You back yourself against the demolished fridge beside Miles.

“What’s wrong?” Peter said, his voice laced with concern and he breathed heavily, seeing that he was in your apartment. “What’s happened? I - I don’t remember anything. When did I get here? What’s going on?” You both stare at him, confused beyond belief at his change in personality. Peter’s doe eyes were filled with tears as he looked at the damage around him. “Something happened last night and I don’t know how to explain it. I haven’t been myself very much since. I - I - Something is happening to me. Please - It’s inside of me. Something is -.”

Peter screams loudly, grabbing his chest as the black slime seemed to ripple out of him before snapping quickly back inside. He stands straight, his dark eyes hone in on you as you wrap your arm around Miles’ bicep - clinging to him as he straightened up more, slowly healing from his injuries.

“What the fuck..” you whisper to yourself as you watch tears fall down Peter’s cheeks, villainously smiling again as he stalked towards you. You grip Miles’ arm tighter as he scooted you into him, trying to protect you even though he was in so much pain from being thrown.

Peter tsks as he approaches the two of you on the ground. “Oh, I understand now. He thinks of you as a brother,” he points to Miles and then you. “And you?” Peter licks his lips slowly as he knelt down towards you, black goo caressing your face and unknown to you, beginning to wrap around your ankles. He looks at you as if you were a piece of cake - gawking at you.

He winced loudly, grimacing before snapping back - his sweet eyes look at you and Miles through tears. Peter’s shaky hand raised to point at the door. His breath was labored as he whispered, “Run.”

Miles gets up with ease - yelling at you to, “Get the hell up!” as he runs. But you couldn’t move. You look down, seeing a black fleshy substance wrapped around your ankles and now your wrists as you sat on the ground. “I can’t,” you cried out.

He tried to help you, turning to run back towards you - but whatever was inside of Peter pushed Miles out of your apartment, shutting the door and locking it before slinking back inside of Peter. Still in front of you, trapping you - Peter smiles, he scans your body before snapping up to your gaze. “I can still feel his thoughts and his memories for now. I feel how he feels when he looks at you. And my god, does he feel for you.”

Slowly, the thing inside of Peter pulls your wrist towards him - putting it on his chest as more of the black substance wrapped around your hand, running up the length of your arm. “He can feel everything that I do. Part of me is part of his reaction. I think he wants you just as badly as I do.”

Your eyes were wide as you shook your head, “No - Peter and I - we.. we’re friends - best friends.” He shook his head, smiling widely at you as the black substance wraps further up you, around your throat and into your hair, the sensation sent chills up your spine. “He doesn’t like me like that. Just - just let me go.”

You knew how you felt about Peter Parker - your best friend since sophomore year of college. He was the guy you’ve had a secret crush on for years, but respected him and your friendship too much to say anything.

Miles banged on the door - yelling, “I’ve called the cops! They will be here in fifteen minutes! I’m going to try to break in, Y/N!”

“Fifteen minutes is more than enough time,” Peter growls, lifting you off the ground, still wrapped in the thick black bands of goo. “What are you doing? Let me down!”

Carrying you he enters your bedroom, shutting the door behind him. His grip is firm as he lowers you onto the bed. “Peter, please!”

As he steps away from you, Peter snaps back to normal, beginning to sob at he looked at you on the bed “I can’t stop whatever this is. Please - help me. I’m so scared. It took over my suit - I - I’m - ,” Peter lets out a blood-curdling scream as the foreign thing in his body rippled under his skin. He gasps before standing straight up, the darkness of his eyes pierced yours.

“You’re stronger than this, Pete,” you whisper, slinking off of the bed and stepping towards your window. “Please, you aren’t being yourself. You’re scaring me.”

He is quite as his head slowly cocks to the side. “What do you think it will feel like once I fuck you?” Peter’s raspy voice whispered, licking his lips again as the black mass started to show from his body in a tentacle like fashion. You’re terrified, back hitting the wall as you realize it’s you versus a literal superhero - the odds were not in your favor.

A black tentacle zooms across the room, constricting around your neck and bringing you towards Peter as other black lines wrap around your waist.

Now face to face, Peter’s hands wrap into your hair - pulling you close. He smiles, almost looking like himself as you locked eyes with him. “Peter, please - don’t -.”

Two black masses rip apart the sweatshirt you wore, revealing a tight fitting camisole underneath. Peter growled at the sight of your chest pressed up against him. You could feel the erection in his pants growing larger as you gulp, wondering if after all this time that this was how you and Peter would get together. Please, no. Not this way.

Peter’s hand trailed down your chest, going to pull down your pants while the black substance coming from his body held you up - slowly wrapping around your extremities. “You look good like this,” he growled. “I bet you feel as good as you look.”

His hand trails over the elastic holding your pants up, tracing lines to tease you as his finger hooked underneath, beginning to slide them off. A crash comes from your window, both of you turn towards it to see Miles - clad in his Spiderman suit. You could see the rage in his eyes. He screams loudly seeing whatever was inside of Peter had started to do with you, “Fucking let her go, now!” Miles hisses. He was just as protective of you as you are of him.

Miles rushes Peter, shooting webs at him trying to knock him away from you without injuring either of you. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you need to get the hell out of my friend and off of my other before I whoop your ass,” he growls.

“Promise?” Peter sneers as Miles lands a kick to Peter’s smiling face - he was enjoying it. “Do it again.”

Shooting another web that wraps around your wrist, Miles struggles to pull you from Peter’s grip. Whatever it was had wrapped around you, completely restricting you and holding you to Peter.

“Let her go, now!” Miles yells, landing a firm punch to Peter’s jaw, causing him to finally release you as he pounced on Miles. You fall to the ground, scattering to a corner of your room, trying to get a better grip on the situation. Peter was attacking Miles violently, throwing punches and holding him down as he pummeled him.

“Stop!” You scream through sobs, feeling more helpless than before. You had to do something.

Miles and Peter’s strengths were normally the same, but Peter was much stronger with this thing inside of him. He was even more calculated, his spider senses were even more intense than before - and that was a major problem.

Blood had started to splatter on your bedroom’s wall, painting them red with Miles’ blood. You realized what you had to do.

You stood, clearing your throat. “Hey, Pete!” Peter’s head snapped towards you. Miles looked over at you, his face bloodied. He started to shake his head seeing the determined look in your eyes, he knew that look - the look you get when you need to get shit done. His thoughts raced thinking of what in the world you were about to do.

“Take me,” you whisper as tears start to roll down your cheeks, though your face remained stoic. Miles whispers “No, Y/N.” As he tried to stop you, realizing what you had decided to do. “Not this, Y/N. Don’t do this - we can figure this out. The cops will be here any minute now,” he whispers from across the room as a black tentacle held him on the ground by the throat. “Y/N, please. You don’t have any special powers - and Peter is not himself. He will kill you.”

“I told your parents that I will protect you always, Miles. I can’t let them down. I can’t - I can’t. It’s my job to protect you. I’ve got to protect you,” you whisper, shaking your head as you start to sob. “Remember? I’m your big sister now and forever - I love you, Miles. It’s going to be okay.”

Miles cries out as he lays on the carpet of your bedroom, Peter’s grip still tight on his throat. “Y/N, please. Don’t be a hero. Please. We can figure this out. We can-.”

“No, Miles. I have to do this. I hope you can understand,” you look back to Peter. “Don’t hurt him anymore. Just take me, please. Leave him alone.”

Peter started to stand, approaching you slowly as a black version of his Spider-suit started to wrap around his body. “Please, Y/N - I’m not a kid anymore. I can help,” Miles watches Peter begin to stalk you again, the black mass still choking Miles as it held him to the carpet.

You gulp, gripping your hands together in fists trying to stop shaking from fear. “I’m the one you want, right? So, take me,” you whispered staring Peter straight in the eyes and gritting your teeth. “Gladly,” Peter hissed as Miles cries out for you, trying to pull himself up from the ground - fighting as hard as he could to get to you, “Peter - please don’t do this! It’s Y/N!”

Before he could reach you Peter had pounced on you, wrapping the darkness around you and throwing the two of you out of the window. Miles lets out an exhausted scream realizing he wasn’t quick enough to catch up with Peter. As he looks through the streets he sees Peter disappear with you into the night, swinging through the city as blue lights start to bounce off of the brick apartments around yours.

Miles turns and looks at the chaos around him, wishing that all of this was just a bad dream. Whatever was inside of Peter had you, and Miles knew it was up to him now to save both of you.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be too late.

Tag List: @rose-writes-shit @xuxialling @itwasallinmyhead1 @mypalbuck @angelcritterz @levylovegood @gwenebear @saltedcoffeescotch @thelittlebirdwriter @mbjackie @kiwi5335 @nikkitc0703 @laurathefahrradsattel

Special tag for my beautiful pal, V @agnesamarantheastwood

A/N: this will be a mini series!! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged my angels. - Cait <333

NAVIGATION Symbiote Navigation

904 notes · View notes

planetallure · 10 months ago

Text

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.

@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.

"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.

"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.

"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.

"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.

"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.

"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.

"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.

"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.

"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.

i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.

@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.

“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.

“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.

“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.

“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.

“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.

"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.

@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.

"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.

"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."

"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"

@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"

"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.

@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.

"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.

@perlelune

"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.

"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone

"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(

@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.

"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.

"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure

"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.

"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.

"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.

"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)

@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3

#lari's fic recs #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #dark!ethan landry #dark!ethan landry x reader #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!random drysdale x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #rafe x reader #jj x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader

3K notes · View notes

l1tw1ck · 3 months ago

Text

Compromised

Bottom!FTM Peter Parker x Top!Villain CEO!Masc Reader

🕸️ Word Count: 1,226 🕸️

AFAB Language Used | this *might* become a multi-chapter fic but this part won't be canon, i changed my mind after i started the second chapter and this wouldn't fit 😭 so just treat it as a oneshot

CW: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Drugging, Blood, Virginity Loss, Cunnilingus, Creampie

Peter looks up at you with blurry vision, his body bruised and bloody. He can barely move.

You rip off his mask. “Aren't you the one who works for Jameson? I always knew your pictures were too good.” You chuckle. “You are cute though.”

He's fading in and out of consciousness, he can barely comprehend your words.

“I’ll be taking you home with me.”

Peter slowly opens his eyes, still feeling dizzy and weak. He looks down and fear instantly hits him. He's completely naked and tied up. He looks around the room for anything to help him while trying to break his restraints with brute force.

The noise draws you inside.

“Yo- you-” He recognizes you. The CEO of a company that rivals Stark Industries and Oscorp.

“I have a plan for you, Parker.” You walk over to him. “I’ll let you live and I won't tell a soul about your identity. In return, you'll help me take down Stark Industries.”

“Kidnapping someone isn't really a great way to propose a partnership, you know.” He manages to keep up his persona, trying to calculate how he can get out of this.

“Well, appealing to you isn't a part of my plan. How you feel about this doesn't matter to me. You won't have a choice once my subordinate gets his hands on you.”

“Wh- what are you gonna do to me?”

You slowly untie him. “Just a little memory altering. I’d love to train you but there's not enough time…it’s too bad.” You brush his hair to the side. He tries to hit you but it's too difficult, he only grazes your cheek. You laugh at his attempt and grab his wrists. “Don't worry, I won't hurt you after today. You’ll be spoiled rotten. My special little spider.”

“No– no! Don't touch me!” He squirms around in your hold.

“I should've known a single dose wouldn't be effective enough.” You let go of him and turn to the supply cart next to him. He tries to shoot a web to stop you from whatever you’re trying to do, but only a weak spurt leaves his wrist. He then attempts to get on the ground and crawl. You ignore him and prepare his next injection. He feels humiliated as he continues to crawl towards the door. The fact that you're not even looking at him tells him that he doesn't have a chance. But he tries anyway.

He only ends up a couple inches away from where he started when you ‘catch’ him and turn him around. You use one hand to pin his arms above his head and use the other to inject a serum meant to sedate and arouse him. “Don't worry, Peter, you won't remember any of this. If that makes you feel better. I just wanna have some fun with you first.” You toss the empty syringe.

“Get- get away from me–” He tries everything he can to hurt you but his remaining strength is starting to dwindle as the serum runs through his body. You pry his legs apart and stick your head in between. You drag your tongue up his folds then lovingly suck on his dick. You bring your hands to his chest and circle his sensitive nipples. He subconsciously raises his hips and whimpers.

“No- no- no-” He shakes his head, crying. He doesn't want to lose his virginity like this, not here, not to you. “Uhn~” His toes curl. His spidey senses are going off, making it even harder to think. The drug is making the spider parts of him go haywire, it's not working properly. It's aggressively ringing all the alarm bells inside him. His webs weakly shoot out of his wrists like a deflating balloon. His head is pounding. His brain is yelling at him.

Defend yourself. Hurt them. Kill them. Call for help. Run. Give in. Give in.

Give in.

It feels so good. It feels so good.

I wanna come. I wanna come.

His hands stick to the ground, his legs spread further apart, his mouth hangs open to sing noisy, wordless praises to compliment your skill.

“Stop!” He cries out.

Don't stop. Don't stop!

Yes!

Peter gasps, his hips jerking upwards as he squirts on your face. His head presses against the floor. His body trembles. Then he calms down.

He raises his head and looks at you as you pull away from him. His eyes follow your hands as they unzip your pants. As they free your hard dick. As they direct it onto his wet pussy. Then he focuses on your cock. Your length. Your girth.

I want it.

“No-” His voice trembles. “Don't- don't put that- inside me!”

Shove it inside me. I need it. Fill me. Mold my body to fit you. Ruin me.

The head of your cock slowly breaches him. Peter’s webs shoot out like a can of silly string on its last legs. Weak little spurts continue to leave him. Both from his wrist and from his cunt. He feels weaker every time.

It hurts. It’s too big. It hurts.

“It's interesting to see how your body reacts to the drug.” You wipe the tears from his eyes. “It's too bad I won't be using it again…Although I am interested in what’ll happen once my subordinate alters your memories…maybe I’ll tell them to make you an obedient slut for me.”

Own me.

“Ple- please-” He gasps. He's not entirely sure what he's begging for. His brain is sending conflicting messages.

You lean into his ear. “Admit it, Spidey, you love how big I am and how well I fill your tight fucking pussy.”

I love it.

“I hate– ugh-” He hisses.

I'm so full.

“I’ll kill you..” He clenches his fists.

“Oh, but I thought Spider-Man didn't kill?”

“..ma- make an exception-” He loses his ability to grip, his fists come undone as you bottom out.

“Really? I’m honored, sweetheart.” You slowly pull out, stopping before you fully leave him. “You're bleeding. Guess I was too rough.” You lick your lips at the red coating on your cock.

“You're disg—uh~!” You suddenly thrust inside him and knock the wind out of him, a longer string of web leaving his body. His whimpering and gasping quickly turns into whines and moans as you fuck him. His eyes roll to the back of his head. The bandage and wound on his cheek loosens and opens up, causing blood to run down his face. His brain starts to feel like scrambled eggs.

“Doesn't it feel good, baby?”

He responds with a jumbled mess of words that are impossible to decipher. You already took a bunch of pictures of him earlier but you find yourself wishing you still had that camera with you. In this state, he's more beautiful than any of the artwork in the Metropolitan. You grab his sides, triggering the pain in his sore, bruised body. He makes a loud and erotic noise in response.

He writhes around, sobbing and trying to squirm out of your hold. He manages to say “Please–!”.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Your thrusts stop as you come inside him. You let go of him and brush the hair out of his face, then wipe his blood.

His body twitches, like a spider that's been stepped on.

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #ftm character #dom male reader #tw noncon #sub peter parker #peter parker x male reader #peter parker smut #marvel smut #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #male reader smut #bottom male character #dom reader #sub character #dark content

746 notes · View notes

gloomskulls · 7 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. lemme know if I missed any! MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, this also takes place in tasm 2. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already the last year of senior year, graduation was already nearing, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

969 notes · View notes

yichuuonvenus · 1 year ago

Text

!!I am a dark fic writer so if that scares you please do not go any further!! - Love, Yichuu

Peter Parker Ethan Landry Tom Riddle Coriolanus Snow Walter De Ville Loki Laufeyson Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen Arvin Russell Jacaerys Velaryon

!!Kinktober FICS!!

The Woods...

167 notes · View notes

flowersforbucky · 8 months ago

Text

sucker for you

peter maximoff x reader

word count: 1.2k

i can't stop thinking about how peter would react to reader taking his lollipop from him and putting it in her mouth so here's a little drabble about that

a/n: i should be working on this bucky piece that i started like 3 weeks ago but i just needed to get this out of my system first

warnings/tags: language, use of alcohol (everyone is 21+!!), no use of y/n, peter's pov, and some ✨️tension✨️

Peter didn't know it was possible to get so flustered over a human being.

He's never exactly considered himself to be a ladies man, but around you? He's hopeless. A lost cause. Every time he's near you, it feels like his first very day ever interacting with another person.

From the way that your smile reaches your eyes whenever he makes you laugh with a stupid joke to the way that you always smell sweeter than the candy that he eats too much of, he's been a goner for you since the day he first met you.

And the worst part? You seem to know exactly how to make him blush.

As per usual on Friday nights, yours and Peter's group of friends is hanging out in the woods behind the mansion. You're all lounging around a bonfire that Scott works to keep going strong, talking amongst yourself in pairs.

"You know, I heard Warren telling Scott that he's planning on asking you to the winter gala," Jean snickers to you.

Peter isn't trying to eavesdrop, really. Jean just has zero volume control when she has any amount of alcohol in her system. He'd be able to hear every word she's saying even if you and her weren't sitting right next to him.

He twists the stem of the cherry flavored lollipop that he's sucking on, trying and failing to focus on whatever it is that Kurt's rambling on about. His body is angled away from yours, but he can feel the vibration of your low laughter from where your shoulder rests against his.

"What?" Jean demands when you offer no response other than some giggles and a shake of your head. "You've already turned two people down. You're kinda running low on options at this point.”

Peter had heard that you've been asked to the gala that Charles throws in the name of the X-Men every year. He couldn't lie, he was relieved when he'd found out that you had shot down the suitors - not that he'd ever have the balls to ask you himself. He had no desire to be added to the list of people that you've rejected to a glorified prom.

“So? I can go alone. Going alone is better than going with anyone who isn't the person that I actually want to go with,” you answer with a shrug of your shoulders.

Peter tenses at your words, his stomach doing a somersault.

“And who would that be?” Jean asks in a teasing voice, almost like she already knows the answer.

Before you can respond, Peter quickly shoots to his feet. Kurt comes to a sudden stop in the middle of a sentence, and both you and Jean turn to look up at him from where you still sit on the old, fallen tree that is being used as a bench.

“Where're you going?” You ask. Peter knows it's probably wishful thinking, but he can't help but think that there's a hint of disappointment in your voice.

“Back to the mansion. I've gotta take a whiz,” he retorts, hoping he sounds casual. Truthfully, he can't stand the thought of having to hear you say some dude's name in response to Jean's question.

“Since when are you above pissing in the woods?” Scott laughs as he piles some more branches onto the bonfire.

Peter shoots him an obscene gesture, about to bolt in the direction of the mansion when he feels your hand wrap around his from beneath him. You begin to get up, and he instinctively helps pull you into a standing position.

“I'll walk back with you,” you tell him as you drop his hand. “I'm going to grab a few more beers.” You smile at him in the orange glow of the fire and he forgets how to speak. He motions as if to say after you and you begin walking in the direction of the mansion.

He's fully aware that he could have the two of you back to the school in a split-second, but despite how nervous he gets around you, he'd never pass up the opportunity to spend a few moments alone with you. Living here, you're both almost always surrounded by other people. If it's not Jean, it's Storm. If it's not Storm, it's Raven or Hank. If it's it's not –

“I just had to get away from that,” you sigh when the two of you are out of earshot from the others. “I love her, but Jean can be kind of relentless,” you add with a small laugh.

“You can say that again,” he agrees, his voice mumbled from the lollipop stuffed between his teeth and his check. “Just the other day she was saying that I should ask someone.”

“Yeah?” You quip, a curious edge to your tone. “And are you going to?”

“Nah,” Peter shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Like you said, it's better to go alone than to go with someone who isn't the person you really like.”

“So what's stopping you from asking her? Is she already going with someone else?”

“No,” he answers, coming to a stop in the middle of the moonlit path the two of you are walking on. “She's not. But she's already turned down basically everyone in the school, so I don't think I stand much of a chance.”

Sometimes Peter starts a sentence without knowing where it’s going, but right now even he's shocked by his words. He's not quite sure where the bravery came from, but he can't exactly take it back now. You're not stupid - he knows you can read between the lines to deduce who he's talking about.

You come to a halt, turning back to look at him. He offers a small, nervous smirk and resists the urge to dash away before you can reply to his confession.

“Three people isn't basically everyone in the school,” you chuckle with one of those grins that could bring Peter to his knees. You take a few slow steps towards him, stopping when your chest is just inches from his. Your gaze flickers from his eyes and down to his mouth before you reach a hand up to his face and pinch the stem of his lollipop between your thumb and index finger, plucking it from his mouth.

His eyes widen in surprise, all but bulging out of his head when you pop what's left of the red lollipop into your own mouth. You swirl it around in your mouth, your plump lips wrapped around the stick.

“But for what it's worth, the whole school could ask me and there's only one person who would get a yes out of me.”

You pull the lollipop from between your lips and hold it back up to Peter's mouth, resting it against his bottom lip until he parts them - to speak or to accept the sucker, he's not sure. But he doesn't do anything to stop you when you guide it back inside his mouth, the flavor of the cherry candy and your saliva infiltrating his senses when it meets his tongue.

“Just in case you were wondering,” you shrug, and turn to continue your walk back to the mansion as if you didn't just make his heart combust in his chest.

He speeds after you, deciding that maybe Jean has a point - maybe he should ask someone after all.

•••••

thanks for reading! this was my first time writing for peter, i'd very much appreciate comments/reblogs 💕

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x you #evan peters #peter maximoff oneshot #peter maximoff imagine #quicksilver oneshot #quicksilver imagine #xmen #xmen days of future past #xmen dofp #dofp #days of future past #xmen apocalypse #xmen dark phoenix #dark phoenix

866 notes · View notes

alien-grave · 28 days ago

Text

PSA FOR FIC WRITERS

TAG YOUR FUCKING FICS BEFORE THE FIC ITSELF.

I do not care if it’s sfw. You STILL need to tag it regarding what’s in it. Tropes, fluff, they held hands, whatever.

You need to include content warning and tags before every fic you post. Even if it’s the most boring vanilla fluffy piece, DO IT. Some people have gotten too comfortable not tagging their fics, and then don’t know what to do when they get in trouble for it.

And obviously if you ARE writing nsfw or any sort of dark topic, need I state the obvious?

Don’t give these fandom police a reason to complain about us. Your best defense is TAGS and WARNINGS before the fic. Why? Because then it’s THEIR problem if they chose to ignore the tags and read it anyways while knowing there are things they won’t like. The blame is off you and they can’t use it as a reason to bash fetish/kink, dark and dead dove writers.

I’m saying this for your own good. This is to protect yourselves. Do your due diligence.

356 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 4 months ago

Text

Basic Training XIX

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.

“She’s better than she was when we first discovered her condition, but she’s still not where she needs to be…”

The now familiar voice reached your ears as you stared at the sheets, picking at your fingers just as you heard Peter sigh. You felt his soft hand rest atop your head, fingers gently massaging your scalp.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” the younger man murmured. “I’ve been getting her to eat more, but her appetite still hasn’t fully returned.”

There was a bit of an edge in his voice, and beyond the numb cloud you’d felt trapped in for weeks, a tiny sliver of satisfaction tickled your chest. Even if Peter had not been candid with you about what he was thinking, you knew that some part of him blamed Steve for the predicament you found yourselves in.

As he and Dr. Banner continued to talk about you as if you weren’t there, you recalled the hushed argument from only days ago that had woken you up in the middle of the night. Peter’s voice had been easy to identify—Steve’s even easier—and you’d been unable to fall back asleep right away as their muffled voices reached you through the floor.

You hadn’t been able to make out what they were saying, but you’d known that it was about you. Even though his confirmation wasn’t needed, Dr. Banner had said what everyone guessed to be true. You were pregnant before you even went down into the basement, and now, because of the actions of that day and the events that followed, Peter worried that the baby wasn’t going to make it.

You were sure that parts of him blamed both himself and you as well, but you supposed that Steve was an easier target, and you guessed that you couldn’t argue against the blond carrying a significant amount of blame. Truthfully, you didn’t care about who was to blame. You didn’t care about this pregnancy, at all.

Nevermind the fact that it just didn’t feel real to you—and that probably had to do with the fact that you weren’t even showing—but because it didn’t seem real, you just couldn’t bring yourself to consider it a priority after everything that had happened. How were you expected to care about something you couldn’t even see or feel when you had your own internal turmoil you were struggling to navigate?

Peter was stressed about a baby you didn’t even want while you were absentmindedly leaning into the touch of a murderer.

“Did you hear that?”

Peter’s gentle voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you blinked, the scene before you coming back into focus. Both he and Dr. Banner were looking at you expectantly, and when you looked between them—lips parted and brows furrowed—it became obvious that you hadn’t heard a word.

You ignored the frown on Peter’s face as Dr. Banner repeated himself.

“You need to eat even when you don’t feel like it, okay?” you looked down at that. “You’re still a bit malnourished and nowhere near the weight and health you need to be if you’re to carry this baby to term.”

It went unsaid, but there was a silent agreement that it was a miracle you hadn’t lost the baby already. At the feel of Peter’s gaze on you, you gave the older man a nod, and he seemed satisfied enough to finish up his talk with Peter. Your eyes traced the white sheets as Peter and Dr. Banner walked to the door, their voices fading as the dark-haired young man walked him out.

A small bout of relief filled you at being left alone, but it was overshadowed by the anxious feeling your codependency to Peter often brought on whenever you weren’t around him. Down in the basement, you had started to grow used to the numb feeling of being alone and isolated in darkness and silence. The days and weeks had blended together until it felt like one long endless stretch, but then Peter took your hand again and looked into your eyes and spoke to you in that gentle way he often did and…

You were back.

You were back to wanting to be around him and wanting to always be touching him and depending on him as the only thing to keep you somewhat sane—if you could even call yourself that. You needed him—to act as a shield against Steve, to reassure you that you were okay, to remind you that you were worthy of being loved.

It was painful to admit, now because some part of you also couldn’t stand the sight of him. Since being out of the basement, you were more at war with yourself than you ever were before, and it was hell. Whenever he looked at you or talked to you, it was a constant battle with yourself to remind yourself of what he did and who he was. A battle you sometimes lost.

Even his touch made you nauseous…

“Dr. Banner’s right,” he said to you sometime later after the man in question was long gone. “You really need to be eating a lot more.”

You said nothing to that, your gaze remaining on the white sheets on your lap. You could feel Peter’s gaze on you, hoping and praying for some kind of response, but you only disappointed him.

“I’ve been trying to find a balance, you know? I don’t want to force you, but it’s important that you eat and get your strength up. I was trying to give it time, but we can’t afford that,” he continued, reaching for your hand.

You snatched it away without thinking, and you could feel him staring at you. The silence stretched and stretched, and you avoided his gaze. This tense and awkward air had surrounded you two for weeks, and you knew that a moment would come where someone would reach their breaking point.

After some time, you heard Peter slowly exhale.

“I understand that you’re mad at me,” he finally whispered. “I understand that. You’re angry and confused…and probably really hurt…”

Your eyes watered.

“...and I’m letting you have that, but…do not do anything you’ll regret.”

His words made you frown, and you stared at the wall, struggling to understand what he meant.

“If you are doing any of this just to spite me…” you whipped your head around to look at him. “If you let anything happen to our baby just to hurt me…”

Peter trailed off the longer you just stared at him, your eyes growing wider and wider at his audacity. How could you even begin to tell Peter that you weren’t even thinking about this baby? That this thing growing inside of you that you couldn’t even feel or see was so far from your mind?

For the first time in ages…you wanted to scream at Peter. You wanted to hit him like you used to and hurt him like he hurt you and make this as difficult as possible for him. The thought to let something happen to this baby just to hurt Peter had never even crossed your mind. Although, you supposed that it wasn’t a bad idea, but you weren’t like that.

You didn’t have it in you.

You wanted to tell the man before you that if you were ever going to entertain the idea of losing this baby in some way, it would be to protect them from what you felt was a worse fate. It would be because ending its life before it even had a chance to take its first breath was a mercy in comparison to what they had to look forward to, and you didn’t know what scared you more.

Raising a son to follow in his father’s footsteps or raising a daughter to follow in yours?

It was too much, and instead of saying any of this to Peter, you chose to bite your tongue and lie back down. You heard Peter sigh as you rolled over and faced your back to him, unable to finally voice your thoughts and open the floodgates that were no doubt holding everything back.

You both felt and heard Peter move closer, joining you on the bed, and you didn’t have the energy to shove him away. His hand rested on your back, gently caressing it, and his apology meant nothing to you as you sought out sleep.

Peter’s hands were tight on you as you spilled what little you had in your stomach into the toilet. His silence betrayed his attempts to hide his disappointment, but you knew that he didn’t like the sight of you throwing up when you were still eating so little.

Even if it was normal.

“I’m going to have to ask Dr. Banner what he can do about that…”

You wanted to tell Peter that nothing could really be done about morning sickness because it was…well…morning sickness. You imagined the doctor would tell him what you already knew—that while there was stuff to help reduce it, there was no guaranteed way to stop it.

After helping you wash your mouth out, he was quick to run into the room and get rid of the untouched eggs. The lingering smell was enough to make your stomach churn, and you worried that you’d be sick again. Your lashes fluttered as you slowly breathed in and out through your mouth, and you didn’t realize how long you’d been doing it until you felt Peter’s hand on your arm again.

When you opened your eyes, he had a glass of water, and you were too unwell to resist his help as he tilted it against your lips. He forced you to drink it all, and under different circumstances, you would have been moved by how concerned he was for you and the baby, but as it were, you could only think about how you were well and truly trapped now.

It was a fact before, and it wasn’t like you had a sliver of hope for otherwise or anything—long accepting your fate—but this pregnancy was like the nail in the coffin. Your eyes strayed to the painful ring on your finger as Peter guided you back to the bed, and you moved your head away from his fingers when he reached for your face.

The silence was loud.

“Are you going to hate me forever?”

The truth was that you didn’t know the answer to that. The most logical part of you guessed that some part of you would always hate him, but the part of you that had been so worn down by Peter and this house worried that a day would come—probably sooner than you think—where you would just accept Peter for who he actually was and not who you’d been conned into thinking he was.

Was that really the appropriate term though?

Had you been deceived?

Of course you had. You’d been deliberately misled or just flat out lied to about the extent of Peter’s involvement in what happened to your friends. It was an agreed upon thing to keep it from you, so yes. You’d indeed been deceived to think Peter wasn’t as bad as he was, and yet…

Perhaps you held some blame in thinking it made that much of a difference to begin with. Whether he pulled the trigger or not—and he very much did—Peter still played an astronomical part in what happened to your friends. You wondered if making such a distinction in your mind was simply a way to ease the guilt you felt about giving in.

You hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until Peter brushed his thumb under your eye.

“I’m trying to be patient, so patient, because I know these past couple of months have been a lot for you…but you’re scaring me.”

Peter moved closer, resting his hand on the back of your neck.

“I need you to talk to me. I need…I need to hear your voice,” he whispered. “I miss you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I know a lot is going on in that pretty head of yours. There’s always so much going on up there,” he chuckled. “...but I can’t try to make this right, try to make this better for the both of us if you won’t talk to me.”

Peter took a deep breath.

“I need you to get healthy again so that we can start forgetting about the rough start to this pregnancy and start being happy. We should be celebrating,” Peter told you. “This is supposed to be a happy time for us, and instead I’m scared—scared of losing the baby, of losing you.”

You hated the way Peter’s voice cracked, and fighting against everything in you, you made to move out of his reach. Peter wasn’t having it though, fingers digging into the fabric of your nightgown and the skin of your arm.

“You’ve lost so much weight, and you’re not eating enough, and you won’t speak to me—stop, stop,” he bit out, pulling you back despite your attempts to get away from him. “I miss you.”

You made a noise of protest, a frustrated whine leaving your lips as he fought to keep you in his grip.

“I miss you so much, I fucking miss you, and you…”

He swallowed his words as he tried to kiss you, and the sound of the slap was loud in the otherwise quiet room. You didn’t know who was more shocked by your actions—you or Peter—and you both just stared at each other for a few moments, silent and wide-eyed.

Your chest was heaving as your breathing grew heavier, and the sight of him started to blur as your eyes watered. You didn’t know why you were pushed over the edge by Peter trying to kiss you, but your whole body felt like it was on fire and not in a good way. Your hand stung, and you took note of the way his cheek continued to redden.

Peter looked like he didn’t know if he wanted to hold you or throttle you.

Your lips trembled as the words danced on your tongue, and the tears that escaped your eyes were hot. You could see Peter’s expression soften at the sight, and you spat the words out before he could say another word to you.

“You are a murderer.”

You couldn’t tell if Peter was shocked by the first words you chose to say to him in months, but he did look stricken.

“...and you made me think you weren’t.”

You shook your head at him, more tears falling.

“You made me think you were better than them. You fed me bullshit and made me think you weren’t as bad as them,” you choked out. “...and maybe…maybe that’s my fault too. Maybe I wanted to believe that to feel better about myself and what was happening.”

You pushed his hands away as he reached for you again.

“Even though I know it’s not my fault, I feel like I could’ve done something to stop this. Fought harder, been stronger, held onto my sanity a little tighter…”

You screamed when Peter tried to interrupt you.

“None of this is my fault! It’s all your fault,” you bit out. “All of this is your fault, but I’m the only one suffering.”

Peter’s face shifted into something angry, but you continued before he could come up with whatever bullshit about how he was suffering too.

“You miss me because I won’t talk to you, because I won’t touch you, but how do you think I feel? Fighting against everything in me that’s telling me to just lay down and submit to survive, telling me to let it go to be happy.”

You were full on sobbing now, gasping around every word you said.

“Every day I have to choose between hating the man that ruined my life…and being happy. Every day, it’s one or the other, and every time I choose what’s easy, I hate myself more and more.”

You reached up to twist your hands into your hair, pulling.

“It was bad enough when I didn’t know you were a murderer…”

You stared into Peter’s eyes, and you looked between them as you dropped your hands.

“...but how can I do it now? How can I choose what’s supposed to be easy when I know what I know?” you whispered.

Peter slowly reached for you, and your shoulders heaved.

“I kept telling myself that it could be worse,” you mumbled. “I kept saying at least…at least he didn’t kill them, at least he didn’t kill them.”

Peter was gently shaking you, but you were staring past him.

“...but you did. Even if you didn’t pull the trigger—and you did—you still killed them,” you quietly breathed. “You killed all of them…”

Your gaze met his worried one.

“From the moment you decided you wanted me, you killed them. You put them in the ground the moment you decided that,” you tearfully said. “...and I told myself differently to make it easier, to make it better, but it doesn’t fucking matter.”

You slapped him again and again, and when Peter painfully gripped your wrists, you couldn’t hold in your painful gasp. You still tried to hit him, but he wouldn’t let you, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“You’re worse than they are. All of them,” you cried. “Even Steve.”

You didn’t care about the hurt on Peter’s face at that, shaking your head at him.

“At least he doesn’t deceive anyone. At least he doesn't lie…”

The words just kept tumbling out, and it was too late to stop them.

“You killed my friends and took me for yourself and drove me insane,” you slowly whispered, tone incredulous like you still couldn’t believe it. “...and if that wasn’t enough…”

You pulled on your arms again, but Peter refused to let you go.

“You made me fall in love with you.”

Peter’s movements faltered at your words, and he moved closer, looking between your eyes.

“You knew what you were doing,” you breathed. “This is what you wanted.”

You frowned at him with a shake of your head.

“You wanted me completely helpless and defenseless without you. I can’t so much as breathe a different way without looking to you first, and you know it. I find out you shot my best friend, and I’m struggling with it? Struggling?” you let out a humorless laugh. “I should hate you! I should be plotting to strangle you in your sleep.”

Peter wrapped his arms around you despite how difficult you made it, and he shushed you.

“...but what would happen to me? Where would I go? Who would even stand to be around me like this?”

Peter forced you to press your face into the crook of his neck, his hand on the back of your head and his other rubbing circles into your back.

“You’ve ruined me, Peter, and it’s exactly what you set out to do,” you sobbed into his skin. “...and I knew it was happening, but I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“You’re not ruined,” he finally whispered into your hair.

You pushed against his chest, but he wouldn’t let you go, holding you tighter.

“You’re perfect.”

His words both validated and disgusted you. You knew he was saying them because he believed them to be true, and that was the problem. Now that he’d broken you down and scrambled your brain into loving the man who killed your friends and kidnapped you, you were perfect. He’d molded you into exactly what he wanted, and that only made you cry harder.

Peter gently rocked you, refusing to let you go, and when the hand on your back traveled to your stomach, you shuddered. As he traced patterns into your stomach and whispered comforting words to you, you thought to yourself that you couldn't even hate him in peace if you tried. He was always going to be there, comforting you during the pain he caused.

…and for the umpteenth day in a row, you had to decide between hating the man who ruined your life…or being happy.

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

1K notes · View notes

spider-stark · 1 year ago

Text

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

2K notes · View notes