#spiderio nff

[innerempire]

A fic where Quentin and Tony are best friends, have been since their days in MIT. Tony’s throwing Quentin a *massive* bachelor party - the fucker’s finally going to get married at 40. Tony insists that he should be throwing Quentin a funeral instead, because why would you fucking get married when you’re a billionaire in your 40s? They both proud owners of Stark-Beck Industries, with so much more they could achieve.

“You’re going through a 40s crisis, that’s what is it.”

But when Tony throws a party, he spares no fucking expense.

Quentin disappears somewhere halfway through the party and Tony finds him in one of the empty rooms upstairs, cock and balls deep in a cute young thing in a pizza delivery uniform.

“I hired escorts for you, expensive ones, no offense to you, honey-“ He tells the cute boy currently pinned beneath Quentin’s muscled frame, eyes glazed.

“What? He’s not the stripper you hired for me? I thought you wanted it a little cringe - have him in a delivery outfit.”

“If I wanted it to be cringe, I’d have him in a fucking pleated skirt and a white dress shirt with knee-high stockings.”

Jesus, there’s cum streaked on the boy’s face, on his chest, his cheeks are splotched red, but he doesn’t protest when Quentin lifts his legs up to his shoulder and practically bends Peter’s knees against his chest.

“So-“ Quentin says breathlessly. “You didn’t hire him?”

Ah fuck.

Tony vaguely recalls a drunk Natasha and Clint saying they were going to “order so many fucking pizzas”.

“Oh my fucking god-“ The boy does a full body shudder when Quentin really starts pounding into him, and Tony can’t look away from where his red-rimmed (swollen) hole is stretched to accommodate his best friend’s cock. Look, Quentin’s a big fucking man and the small ones don’t really enjoy taking it up the ass that much.

“Fucking hell, Quentin. He’s an actual delivery kid.”

“Could have fooled me.” Quentin grunts out. “His ass is fucking fantastic. Stop bitching, Tony. You wanna have a go? That’s okay, right, Petey? I promise you, Tony’s packing even if his height doesn’t-“

Peter can barely string a coherent sentence together, looking so blissed out.

“You should see the way he sucks cock.”

This is a potentially bad decision, but it’s what Quentin and Tony have always excelled at. He’s already unbuttoning his jeans, taking measured steps towards the bed.

Peter is pretty. Pretty young, his mind supplies unhelpfully.

“How old are you, kid?”

“17.” Quentin throws Tony a “seriously, Tony?” kind of look. “Of course I checked.”

“Glad to know your common sense still triumps over your cock-“

“Hey.” Peter peeks up at Tony from beneath his damp lashes. “Are you two gonna keep talking, or are you gonna fuck my face?”

Quentin shares a grin with Tony and slides his cock out with a half-punched groan, lube and cum giving his cock a wet sheen.

“I like this one.” Quentin dips down and kisses Peter, roughly cupping by him by the nape and squeezing. “Maybe we shoud keep him, Tones.”

Tony knee-walks across the bed, gazing down at Peter’s spit-slicked lips. He could imagine the fun three of them could have together - because hey, of course Tony and Quentin would have the same taste in a fuck toy.

“Well, consider that my wedding gift to you.”

- / -

“Fuck you, Tony. That’s not fair.” Tony laughs when Quentin walks in on one of the empty dressing rooms; Peter’s on his knees, lips wrapped so beautifully around his cock, careful not to get saliva on the suit Tony and Quentin had paid for to be custom-made for the wedding.

“Hey. I’m not the one signing my freedom away.”

Tony watches as his best friend approaches, laying a hand in Peter’s curls, stroking him affectionately. Four months later, and both of them have got quite the massive soft spot for Peter. There are days whereby Tony is amazed how gentle Quentin can be when he’s around Peter.

“Look, you made him sad that you’re getting married. It’s okay, baby.” Tony coos at the boy playfully. “It’s one less cock for a slut like you, but- ouch!”

He rubs the spot on his arm that Quentin had punched, grinning when he sees that Peter’s trying to hold his laughter in as well. “I’m just kidding, Quentin, relax. We both know a wedding ring and some cheesy vows you stole off Google isn’t going to stop you.”

[starkerdestroyedmylifee]

[tightaroundthewebshooter]

Kinktober Day 1

hybristophilia - peter/quentin

warnings: referenced murder, referenced rape, mild rape fantasy 

read on ao3

Hybristophilia: a paraphilia in which sexual arousal is responsive to being with a partner known to have committed an outrage or crime such as rape or murder.

______________________

They don’t talk about it, because Peter pretends he doesn’t know, pretends he doesn’t notice the teenage boys going missing, the blood under his husband’s nails, Quentin creeping out of the bed and out of the house at 2 in the morning, the scratches that sometimes show up on his neck. (I cut myself shaving, he says, like he hasn’t been shaving since before Peter was even born.) 

Peter tries not to even think about, during the day at least, focusing on his classes and on being a good husband, cooking and cleaning, (cleaning the mud and clay off of Quentin’s boots the mornings after his excursions is particularly important. If the cops were to show up unexpectedly they would surely be suspicious of that, since they live in the middle of Manhattan.) and reassuring his friends that no, Quentin is not cheating on him. 

The night is a different story. He can’t help but think about it, lying in the dark next to him, can’t stop himself from imagining how he does it. Maybe he chokes them, big hands easily fitting around pretty necks. Or maybe he cuts them up, to make them easier to hide. His brain supplies visuals, with him as the victim. Quentin choking him, dragging a knife across his stomach, drowning him in somebody of water. It scares him a little, but it gets him hard. And then he wonders he fucks them, and the image of him holding Peter down in the back of his car and forcing him to take makes him whimper, loud enough that Quentin rolls over and mumbles at him.

He’s too keyed up to fall asleep, and since Quentin’s sleep has already been disturbed… he twists around and throws his leg over his waist, and starts kissing all over his neck and face to properly wake him up, grinning when he feels his hands move to grab his ass, moaning when he tilts his head to catch him in a real kiss, sleepy-messy and good enough to make him shake. 

He grinds against him, intent on getting off, and bites at Quentin’s lip when he laughs at his eagerness. Quentins trying to guide his hips in a nice rhythm, but he’s moving too much, too impatient, so he gives up with a huff and worms his hand between them to wrap around both their cocks. He knows exactly what do to, what Peter likes, and Peters panting so hard he has to break their kiss, hiding his face in his neck and trying not to cry out too loud when he comes on both their stomachs, and he only tears up a little as Quentin tightens his grip around them to bring himself off, adding to his mess. 

He isn’t let up to roll away, and he knows they’re going to be stuck together in the morning, but when Quentin brushes his hair back from his sweaty face and rubs his loving, deadly hands across his back Peter drifts to sleep happy, content with the knowledge that his husband would never hurt him. Only the boys that look like him. 

[muse-of-gods]

This is inspired by the first two chapters of To free a bird by the amazing @shivanessa 💙 I can't wait to read more of this perfectly dark fic and hope you like the moodboard! 🤗

[spideythot]

Obedience Is... Part 2

This is the second part of this prompt: “Possible prompt idea (could’ve been done before) Mysterio kidnaps Peter and hypnotises him into becoming his slave- then Tony finds out and he has to try to find the trigger to snap his beloved out of the trance”

It’ll probs help to read the first part here

contains: mentions of sexual assault, brainwashing/mind control, nff, hurt/comfort

Enjoy!!!

———

Peter had been missing for a week before Tony finally found him and his kidnapper. The man - Mysterio - had Peter on his knees in between his legs, sucking the villain’s cock like there was no tomorrow. He managed to separate the two, Peter fighting him for some reason, crying and kicking and screaming for Mysterio... calling him Master. The other man simply laughed as Tony arrested him with anti-magic restraints he’d gotten from Strange. He’d delivered the villain to Dr. Strange to be dealt with and now, he had to figure out what had happened to his Spiderling.

He had to restrain Peter too; the boy wouldn’t stop fighting him. Tony managed to get him to answer a few questions about what he remembered. Nothing except being made to be Mysterio’s toy. Some form of magical brainwashing, Tony guessed. When asked why he would ever be a slave for someone, Peter just told him it felt so good. Tony eventually let Peter out of the restraints, but he kept him locked in a room with constant monitoring from FRIDAY. Peter didn’t remember being Spider-Man, so once he tried the door and windows with normal strength he gave up. He had to devise a way to get Peter’s mind back.

He ended up to going back to Strange, to ask him to remove any sort of spell on Peter. The doctor did so, but warned Tony that it wasn’t going to remove any non-magical conditioning. So, he was there when Peter woke up after his session with Strange. Tony needed to see what Peter’s mind was like now that he wasn’t under control of same maniac.

Peter rubbed his eyes, exhaustion evident in his features. He yawned loudly as he stretched his arms over his head. Then he spotted Tony. “Mr. Stark?!” he gasped.

“You know my name now,” Tony said. “What else do you remember?”

Peter scrunched up his face. “Uh...” he mumbled. “... not a lot. I was on patrol and then, like, being Spider-Man wasn’t important anymore. I think he assaulted me? It’s all sort of fuzzy.”

“He... he did, Peter,” Tony confessed hanging his head, unable to look Peter in the eyes. “I’m so sorry. But he’s going to pay, I promise you that.”

Peter nodded and sniffled a bit. Tony glanced at him, noticing the boy was blinking back tears. “I’m glad you came for me,” he murmured.

“I’ll always find you Peter,” Tony promised.

Peter sniffed again. Tony moved a little closer to where Peter sat, slightly propped up on he bed. He took the boy’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, “Anything to help you?”

“I... I feel empty,” Peter admitted. It was all so confusing. He was free, but not really. When he looked at Tony there was a voice in the back of his head whispering to him: Mr. Stark, Master, yes, touch me, play with me, want you...

Peter pinched his eyes shut with his fingers and shook his head. He stamped the voice back down. Peter knew he’d been manipulated to feel this way, but it was so natural. It would be so easy to just give back in; but he had to be strong. His body was reacting to Tony’s touch, warmth spreading through him. He shivered slightly and peeked at Tony through half lidded eyes. The man gave him a small smile. “We’ll get through this,” Tony assured, “You’re safe now.”

Peter nodded and the voice came bubbling back up: Safe, safe with master, safe with daddy - I’d be so good for you, I’d obey, obedience is pleasure

Peter let a few tears fall. “I can’t...” he whimpered. He wasn’t sure what he couldn’t do - fight to be normal, or just tell Tony he wanted to be a toy.

Tony hushed him and sat on the bed with Peter. He embraced the boy, gently rubbing over his back with his large hands. Peter whined against him, trembling at the touches. “Mr. Stark,” he whispered against the man.

“Mmhm?”

“I... need you to tell me something,” Peter said.

Tony sat back enough to meet Peter’s gaze. He gently wiped the boy’s face free of tears and replied, “I’ll say anything you want, if it helps you feel better.”

“Tell me I’m yours,” Peter implored, “Tell me I belong to you only?”

Tony was silent, eyes widened in surprise at Peter’s request. The boy began to explain himself, “I want it, at least a part of me is longing to be a toy. And I’m scared... that if I don’t have someone, maybe Mysterio will be able to come back?” Suck his cock, that’ll prove my love for him as Master.

Peter cringed, and directed his stare away from Tony’s eyes. But Tony dragged him close and kissed his cheek. Peter jumped a little but he turned back toward Tony and let the man kiss him fully on the lips. He melted into the sensation with a moan. Mysterio has never kissed like this, or at all really. Peter kissed back eagerly, allowing Tony to slip him some tongue. When the man pulled away he couldn’t stop himself from whining. He found himself clinging to Tony, panting as he begged for more. “Please,” he pleaded, “Take me, make me yours.”

“Peter, I don’t think...”

Peter kissed Tony, smashing his lips against the other man. His body was burning hot now, aching for the man’s touch, for something to fill him. He knew it was wrong, that Mysterio had molded his body to respond like this. “It’ll help,” he insisted, “Please, Mr. Stark!”

Peter kept kissing, pressing his lips all over Tony’s mouth and jaw, even down to his neck. Tony returned what he could with Peter wriggling in his arms. He stripped Peter out of his button-down night shirt and then hooked his fingers into the boy’s waistband. Peter gripped Tony’s hands and shoved them down along with his pants and briefs. He tugged Tony’s shirt off and pushed the man down on the bed.

Peter crawled over Tony, sitting on his waist and grinding against him. “I can’t wait anymore,” he moaned, “I need you in me.”

Tony groaned and lifted Peter slightly before opening his pants to free his cock. Acting instinctively, Peter took hold of it and stroked it long and slow. He curled his fingers around it, marveling at the way it throbbed in his grip. His mouth watered, and he panted with his tongue hanging out, but he needed to feel Tony’s cock splitting him open first. Peter positioned himself over the man’s dick and sank down slowly, moaning at the sting of it stretching him open.

“Yes,” he groaned, “Yes, Daddy!”

“Daddy, huh?” Tony purred. He couldn’t help feeling a rush of guilt for getting so turned on. Peter needed to be treated gently he was sure. But he was begging for Tony and saying such pretty things. Tony thrust up, bottoming out in Peter’s tight, hot hole. Peter keened and arched his back. “I’ll be your Daddy, from now on.”

Peter’s cock bounced and wept at that. Tears began to form in his eyes again. “Oh, god!” he mewled, “I can’t - I can’t cum!”

“You can, baby,” Tony grunted as he thrust in and out of Peter’s clenching hole. Peter’s dick dripped and twitched as Tony spoke. “Cum as much as you like.”

Peter gasped and came hard as soon as Tony gave him permission. He clenched around Tony’s cock, still rocking his hips back and forth. He bounced with Tony, rolling his hips with every thrust, his body milking Tony’s length for cum. “Daddy! Ah-ah-ah! Daddy!” Peter begged, “Fill me up! Please!”

Tony didn’t need to hear Peter beg, but it helped. He grabbed Peter’s hips and held the boy down on his dick as he spurted rope after rope of cum into him. Peter came again with a shout, his whole body shuddering. Then fell against Tony, chest to chest, breathing heavily, his body limp.

“Th-Thank you,” he panted. Tony wrapped his arms around Peter’s shaking frame. He petted the boy’s back and shoulders, trying to be as soothing as possible. He’d be taking care of Peter from now on, loving him tenderly and teaching him to cope with the new sensations of his body.

“I’ll do anything for you, Peter,” Tony promised, “You’re mine. Safe and mine.”

Peter sighed content at his spot on Tony’s chest. He couldn’t find the strength to speak but he nodded slowly, nuzzling against Tony’s chest. Yes, he belonged to Tony now, safe and owned.

[crown-filth]

Dr. Beck fucking with Peter Parker's head (hc)

Based on this moodboard right here. As well as an idea from @topwizzynun where Dr. Beck tries to convince Peter his powers aren't real as a means of making the boy dependent on him.

Warning: kinda dark I guess. Involves mental manipulation

Ok so basically, what if it physically hurts Peter to hold back his powers. Nothing major, just a barely-there headache or something like that, that worsens the longer he has to control his strength or remind himself which way is right side up.

Anyway! Cut to Dr. Beck drilling it into Peter's head that he absolutely cannot 'use his powers' outside of his office, otherwise everyone around him will "be unnecessarily concerned for his wellbeing." But he tells Peter that his office is a safe space to "act out his fantasy" to get it out of his system.

What he's really doing though, is that good ol classical conditioning on Peter. 'Cause Pete's brain starts recognizing that the twinge in the back of his head he usually feels is gone only when he's at Beck's, and is back as soon as he leaves the room. But instead if associating the relief of pain with using his powers, he starts associating it with Dr. Beck himself.

For the first handful of months, the visits are strictly scheduled. Every week on the same day, same time. This is what sparks the conditioning first. But in the latter half of the year, the visits become less and less frequent, the dates seem more randomized, and slowly but surely Peter grows more uneasy as a result of having to hold his powers back for longer periods of time.

The straw that breaks the Camel's back is when he gets an email that says he's "making great progress," despite the fact that he feels the worst he ever has, and that his next visit wouldn't be for another year. He tries to cope, tries to push it out if his mind, and to his credit it takes 8 months before he breaks and Dr. Beck gets a call from him, sobbing and begging "don't make me wait a year. I just want to feel ok please. Dr. Beck please I can't take it."

Dr Beck assures aunt may that Peter would be going to a facility that he trusts most, but in reality he's really just keeping Peter in his basement. I mean after all, the boy needs him right? He only feels fine around Dr. Beck, in fact now it makes him physically sick to not be around him, it only makes sense that he be kept in a place where Dr. Beck can keep an eye on him.

[peterparkers7evilexes]

1/5Okay but after Beck gets his shit wrecked by Tony fucking Stark and gets literally none of the information he needs he goes back to the drawing board. However, he can’t think straight and he needs to see how the kid reacts. He shows up to the kid’s apartment (easily accessed his files when he was posing as him) having watching his aunt leave and knocks, looking all of the part of Tony Stark. “Mr. Stark?” He looks shocked but Beck can see the faint flush on his cheeks.

2/5 “Need to talk to you about something important kid,” he shoves his way inside and grabs Peter Parker by the face. He kissed him with all the passion he felt from Stark the day before and the boy. Just. Melts. His knees goes weak and for a moment Beck thinks he’s going to fall but he surges back with so much desperation he almost chokes on it. Perfect. Beck walks him back to the couch and gets him naked, the boy so full of youth is already hard and needy.

3/5His voice dips low with arousal, “Mr. Stark, I want you so bad.” It’s a dirty little confession and Beck grins wide with Tony’s lips. “Gonna wreck you Pete.” And when he’s got the (incredibly flexible) boy bent over, eating him out, he finds himself subconsciously using the same techniques Stark used on him when he thought he was Peter. Peter chokes out, “please Mr. Stark.” Beck pulled back just a bit, lazily tracing the boy’s hole with his tongue. “Please what baby boy?”

4/5Why the hell had he become so invested in these two? He was parroting the older man. “Please fuck me,” Peter swallowed hard, hands gripping the fabric of the couch so hard it was ripping. “With absolute pleasure,” he was aching for it. He always had been more of a top, though bottoming for Tony fucking Stark had been spectacular, he couldn’t want to get inside Peter Parker. And he was not disappointed. Peter was so tight, soft like velvet and warm.

5/5It took everything in Beck not to just fuck the absolute hell out of him. He saw stars when he came inside of the kid, Stark doesn’t wear condoms, while the boy professed his love just like Stark had. God the two were so obviously in love it was insane it took Beck to make this happen. He grinned to himself, pleased, he took both of their first times together. Regret courses through his chest, not for taking advantage of them, but the loss of the incredible sex with both Stark and his boy.

[sudruh-blush]

THIS IS AKAJSKKAKskjsjs *send help im dead*

[innerempire]

Teacher! Quentin Beck and student! Peter Parker? 👁️ Quentin still tries to convince himself that he doesn’t want the cute doe eyed boy that sits in the front row of his history class. He’s married, happily married

But damn it, now he’s balls deep into the 16 yo in the back of his car when he offered him a ride. They’re pulled onto the side of the road off some old highway. And Quentin cums buckets when Peter sucks his ring finger

He’s screwed, they’re both screwed, because they think they want something more

{Warnings: Underage!Peter}

Quentin thinks that he needs to stop convincing himself that he’s in a happy marriage. He could lie and say that he is, because Carla’s…great. Sure, she no longer responds to the petnames he calls her by, nor is she home early these days with all the overtime she’s claiming that she’s doing. Sex life? Non-existent; he tries, but she turns her back to him and mumbles something about being exhausted.

Yeah, he’s fucking happy in his marriage.

He supposes that at least, his job allows him to forget the lonely nights at home and the lack of communication and attention. There’s a student, in particular, that Quentin likes. He knows he’s not supposed to have favorites, but Peter Parker was every teacher’s favorite.

He was smart, but not in that annoying know-it-all way, you know? Polite with his please(s) and thank you(s). He liked how Peter always had something that he wanted Quentin to elaborate on after class, and since his History class was the last lesson of the day, Quentin didn’t mind expanding on whatever it was Peter wanted to know.

“Thanks, Mr.Beck.” Peter closes his textbook, satisfied with Quentin’s thorough explanation. “You never make me feel stupid for asking something.”

Quentin tries to not focus on how Peter addressing him as “Mr.Beck” makes him truly feel. It’s inappropriate, so even skirting around the thought is unprofessional. See, it’s deeply inapprorpriate to be harboring thoughts as to how sweet Peter is, or the way the boy seems to radiate happiness whenever he’s complimented on scoring another A on a surprise quiz.

He’s been the kid’s History teacher for a year and a half, and these after-school sessions have long become a routine that he particularly enjoys. Peter’s a great kid, funny in the odd, sassy way that most teenagers are.

“No teacher is going to turn down a student who has a passion for learning, kid.” Quentin glances at his watch, grimacing. “Though you really should have stopped me from going on and on.” It was nearly 6, and he had kept the boy here for far too long. “Did you really let me keep you here for three whole hours?”

“I like hearing you talk about history.” Peter shrugs, though he’s avoiding Quentin’s gaze as he packs his bag. “It’s fun.”

“This is why you’re my favorite student, Parker.” Now, the right thing to do would be to bid the student goodbye, but instead, “Can I offer you a ride home?”

“…are you sure?”

It wasn’t as if Carla was going to be home.

“Sure. I don’t think you’d mind hearing me talk about the Ottoman empire.”

- / -

Being enclosed in a car with Peter has Quentin realizing that the kid smells nice too; somewhere along the hints of honey and a tinge of toasted caramel.

“Why do you always head home so late, Mr.Beck? Mr.Stark leaves at 3pm on the dot every single day.”

Ah, the ever-popular Physics teacher that everyone goes crazy for.

“Well-“ Quentin shrugs. “He gets away with a lot of things because he’s well-liked.” Like stealing my ideas, for example.

“You don’t like him, do you?”

“…that obvious, huh? Is he your favorite teacher then?”

“No way. I like you so much better, Mr.Beck.”

Fuck.

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.” Most of the students found Quentin…odd. , so they don’t really go out of their way to hang or joke around like they do with Stark.

“No, I’m serious.”

“I like you too, kid.”

“…like, as a student or…because, sometimes, when you look at me-“ Quentin grips the steering wheel harder as they merge into the highway. “It feels more than that.”

“Peter.” Quentin risks a glance towards the boy in the passenger seat. “I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having.”

“I know. I know. I’m 16, you’re way older. Blah blah blah, I’ve read all I need to on Google about this. Maybe it’s just a silly crush, but I guess -“ Peter pauses, toying with the strap of the seatbelt. “After how you threatened Flash for me, or how you helped pay for my school fees this year and last year. it’s sorta hard not to like you, you know? Also, you’re just so ridiculously hot.”

Quentin barks out a laugh, “I’m not that old. 40 is the new 30.”

“…uh huh.”

Silence ensues as Peter gazes out of the window.

“We can’t because I’m married.” Quentin finds himself saying. “…not to mention the trouble I would get into if anyone finds out.”

“No one has to find out. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to go around saying something.”

“Why do you sound like you’ve given this a lot of thought?”

“I’m a 16 year old with too much time on his hands after homework. Plus, Internet.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, mostly that. I think about that. A whole lot.”

Quentin exhales shakily, his knuckles turning white with how hard he’s gripping the wheel.

There’s no excuse as to how Quentin ends up driving them to a semi-empty parking lot, choosing a lot right under a faulty bulb. Both of them sit in contemplative silence until Peter steps outside and climbs into the passenger seat instead.

There’s no regret, nor shame, when Quentin stretches Peter open with the finger that his wedding ring of ten years sits on. There is no hesitance either once Quentin is balls deep inside Peter, their labored breaths loud in the enclosed area, Peter’s nails dragging red-hot lines down Quentin’s bare muscled back. It’s so fucking tight, so insanely hot when Peter wraps his legs around Quentin’s waist, begging for more, harder, please.

“Am I a better fuck than your wife, Mr.Beck?”

The pleasure hits right where his belly is.

“Fuck, baby.” Quentin pants out against Peter’s cheek. “Yes, you’re so good for me - the way you clench around my cock. So much better than my wife.”

He vaguely registers the ringing of his mobile phone, somewhere in his pants that’s discarded on the floor. But he does think that the visual image of Peter slipping Quentin’s ring finger past his lips will forever be imprinted on his mind. The kid’s tongue teases over his wedding band - teasing, alluring, on purpose.

Quentin comes so hard that he thinks he blacks out. It’s been three months since he’s gone without sex, so going from 0 to ploughing a hole so tight makes him wonder if this is all just a fevered wet dream.

But it’s real - and he laughs in disbelief before he kisses Peter on the lips, his nose, his eyelids - fuck.

“…oh, you’re definitely my favorite student, baby.”

[tightaroundthewebshooter]

any thrill will do

spiderio serial killer au, 1.4k, title from someone new by hozier

warnings: smut, choking, light daddy kink and d/s, some very very light dub-con, gratuitious use of commas. 

tagging: @peterparkerstarker !!! thanks for the motivation and support, ily queen <3 

read on ao3

_________________

Peter smiles, contemplative as he catches the eye of the man who had been watching him all night. He doesn’t really want this one, at least not like that; he’s handsome, and the right age, but he’s bigger and stronger looking than Peter usually goes for. It’s risky, choosing him, but he’s the only one who stands out to him in the small Wednesday crowd and the itch under his skin just can’t wait until the weekend. Yes, he’ll just have to make do.

He practically struts over, slides right up next to him, and plays the part of the innocent, adorable twink so well it’s practically Oscar-worthy. It was at least good enough that it only took about ten minutes of small talk, a well-placed hand on his thigh, and a gently bitten lip to have the man, who said his name was Quentin, agree to come up to his hotel room. Peter almost wants to laugh at how desperate he was, but he wasn’t going to pass up easy prey.

***

The boy is obvious. Beautiful, with drive and raw talent, but glaringly, painfully green. Unsophisticated. Unpolished. Wet behind the ears. He needs him. Needs a mentor, a confidant, a daddy. Quentin will be all of that for him. 

He hadn’t been hard to find, only 4 months since he started killing and he had already made so many mistakes that Quentin was shocked the police hadn’t already caught him, no matter how low-grade and ineffective they were. He had gotten his last two victims from the same bar, and that’s what gave him away.

Peter Parker, 19, doe-eyed and sweet, working two jobs to pay MIT tuition, obsessed with Star Wars. Quentin supposes the innocent looks and soft personality are what made the detectives look over him. Indeed, his first kill was most likely an accident, and the rush of comfort, release from stress, is what made him do it again. 

The boy is impatient too. As soon as Quentin caught his eye he sauntered over, sitting right by him and starting to flirt after barely introducing himself. Arrogant. Luckily for him Quentin isn’t looking to play any games tonight, so when he slides his hand up his thigh and suggests they go to his room, he readily agrees. It hasn’t even been 15 minutes. Easy. 

***

He had been right about the man being strong. The moment the doors shut they’re all over each other, stripping in between aggressive kisses and then he’s pushing him face-first onto the bed and pulling his legs apart like its nothing. It probably is nothing, but Peter is a little bit nervous about the vulnerable position he’s in until the man drops to his knees behind him and starts licking into him. It feels good, fantastic, and Peter lets himself enjoy it for a few minutes, until a finger breaches him and he realizes his time is almost up. The knife is under the pillow on the left side of the bed, and if he’s to reach it, and reach Quentin’s neck, he’s going to need to get on top. A second finger presses in, right against his prostate, and he loses his train of thought, clenching down and trying to push back.

“You wanna ride daddy’s cock, baby?” his voice is low and rumbly and makes him shake, but his head is clear enough for him to realize that this is the perfect opportunity. He nods, frantically, and lets himself be manhandled into position. He’s panting by the end of it, and the rest of his breath is knocked out of him when he’s pulled down onto Quentin’s cock. It’s big, stretching and pushing against his walls, and he has to scramble to get a grip on the man’s chest so he won’t fall over as he gets bounced up and down. It’s so, so good. 

So good he almost forgets what he’s here to do, until a particularly rough thrust from Quentin brings him to his senses. He leans forward and plants on arm by his head, and slips the other underneath the pillow, looking for that heavy leather handle. He doesn’t find it. Panic builds in his chest, and he tries to remember if he had actually put it in position before he went to the bar. Christ, if it isn’t there than where the fuck is it, and what is Peter supposed to do without it? He’s so busy trying to make a new plan that he almost doesn’t notice Quentin stop.

He tries to school his face, and glances down at the man, who’s smirking up at him, but before he can ask why he stopped he says something that makes Peter’s heart stop.

“Looking for something?” 

***

The face he makes is adorable, fear and confusion apparent even as he tries to hide it. He stops his stuttered response almost before it starts by rolling them over and pinning him down, cock still inside of him, and grabbing his throat. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, baby. I know exactly what you are, I’ve been watching you for months.”  he watches with satisfaction as tears well up in his eyes and he shakes his head. He squeezes tighter. “You think you’re so smart? You are, of course, but not that smart. You got sloppy, honey, and you’re lucky it was me who found you first.” he punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, and lets up on his throat so that he could gasp for air. 

“P-Please, you’re not- don’t h-hurt me.” he’s crying for real now, and Quentin wants to coo at how cute it is. “I’m not going to hurt you, Peter, I’m here to help.” he angles his hips on the next thrust, and Peter wails, thrashing around. “You’re cocky, greedy. You need someone to show you what to do. If you keep going like this you’ll get caught within the month.” He glares down at him, and stills his hips to lean down and press a gentle kiss to his tear-stained cheek. 

“But it’s okay, baby, I’m gonna take care of you.” there’s a little bit of hope in his eyes now, even as he whimpers. “Y-you are?” 

It makes him smile, and he resumes rocking into him “Of course I will, you don’t have to worry about anything.” he whines, pushing back against him “P-please-”

“Please what?” 

“Please daddy! I- I need it!” he groans, thrusting a little faster, and tightening his grip again. “Yeah, baby, gonna fucking take care of you, teach you how to be good at this.” Peter’s pulse is hammering under his fingers, and he feels himself getting close “And when you aren’t good…” he cuts his breathing off completely. 

He expected him to struggle, kick, something, but instead he just stares up at him, eyes wide and trusting. “Jesus Christ.” he hisses, “You fucking want it, don’t you?” he lets up again, lets him gasp for a couple of seconds, before speaking “I’m going to squeeze again, and this time I won’t let up until I come, got it?” Peter nods, tilting his head to give him better access. Oh, Quentin’s going to have so much fun with him. 

He starts slamming into him, hard enough to leave bruises on his ass for days, and squeezes his neck without care. Within seconds he’s coming, cock untouched, hole going so tight around him that he follows him right over the edge, filling him to the brim.

When he releases him he stays lax, eyes glassy and unfocused, but he still whines as Quentin pulls out. He ignores it, pulling him into his lap and running his hand through his sweat matted curl, giving him a minute to collect himself. 

“What happens now?”

He smiles, trails his hand from his hair to his mouth, and lets his thumb slip between his lips. “Now, we’re going to go get cleaned up, and I’m taking you home with me. We’ll figure the rest out in the morning.” Peter stops sucking his thumb and gazes at him, eyes still half-lidded “You’re really going to take care of me?” he whispers. and Quentin promises him he will, starts showing it by wiping him down and helping him get dressed. He can’t help but be smug, by the way Peter is already so willing to follow his orders, teaching should be easier than he thought. They’re going to be good together, he can tell. 

[peterparkers7evilexes]

God... can you imagine Mysterio creating copies of himself in the bedroom? Like, he leaves Peter tied down to the bed, begging to be fucked as he watches Quentin getting spitroasted by his own doppelgangers??

THIS! IS MY! SHIIIIIIT

[starrystarker]

more please 🤤

The fic where Mysterio takes advantage of a grieving Peter + a little twist :)

Warnings: slight dub con, manipulation

Peter’s well aware, on some swaying level of self-consciousness, that what he’s getting himself into will lead to nothing but trouble. It’s certainly not the wisest decision he’s ever made— might possibly even be his worst one, actually— and is the exact sort that will undoubtedly earn him one of Mr Stark’s disapproving looks.

Then again, it’s not like he’s here.

And that’s precisely the problem that’s landed him in this situation in the first place, isn’t it?

Keep reading

[innerempire]

Hey guys, so all I can think about how boxer Quentin who is a whole ass 184 pounds manhandling his boyfriend, and Peter has absolutely no fucking problems with it. Quentin is a beast in bed and the difference in their sizes turns them on massively 😌 Peter purposely egging Quentin on just to get a rise out of his boyfriend, especially when Quentin knows how popular Peter is with the rest of the boxers in the club.

Peter’s closest friends think he’s insane to date someone like Quentin Beck who’s got quite the infamous reputation. He’s injured people in the ring before and the public brands him as someone with numerous issues.

The first time they meet is when Peter gets a free VIP ticket to a match, courtesy of his godfather Tony and he’s like, okay, why the hell not. He knows shit about the UFC, but hey, Tony had said that there’ll be hot guys for him to ogle at. So, yeah, why not!

It’s a UFC title match and this Quentin person Peter keeps hearing of at the venue is clearly someone famously infamous. Peter soon learns why and sometime after the match ends and Quentin is declared champion, their eyes meet and Quentin’s grinning at Peter with blood-stained teeth. He’s all muscles and those pecs are fucking insane, reminds Peter of the porn in his favorites folder.

Stark Industries is the biggest sponsor for the match, so Tony brings Peter along to rub elbows with some of these fighters. Peter could really care less about anyone else and Quentin Beck up close is….yeah, those blue eyes. He doesn’t wanna say it’s cheesy as in love at first sight (maybe lust) because Quentin’s not hiding the fact he’s eyeing Peter in a way that’s not exactly innocent.

Quentin realizes that Peter’s someone who matches his crazy, starts calling Peter his good luck charm. The age difference means that the public’s having a field day about Quentin dating someone who’s nineteen turning twenty when he’s pushing 38.

Beneath the tough fighter exterior, in private, Peter loves that Quentin’s such a sweetheart and he’s a goof that makes Peter laughs most of the time. Peter never has to lift a hand when he’s with Quentin, the older male insisting that all Peter has to do sit there and look pretty.

[innerempire]

(Mentions of consensual non-consensual sex situations, gun kink)

Halloween is Peter’s favorite time of the year. Quentin and Peter are both huge fans of slasher and horror movies, plus it just so happens that the neighbors on their street get pretty pumped up over the celebration too. Everyone goes all out with the decor and last year, Quentin had impressed everyone with a massive Frankenstein prop right out on their lawn.

They’ve discussed the hard no(s), Peter’s limits and safewords. The thing is, Quentin really wants to catch Peter off guard and if he does it on Halloween itself, it’ll be no fun. He waits a week after Halloween is over,waits for Peter inside their darkened house in the middle of the living room with a Ghostface mask over his face. It’s none of that cheap shit from the dollar store, but one he had gotten customized to fit his face. It’s not uncomfortable, and he’s able to breathe fine.

Peter: oh fuck, but don’t you think that ghostface mask is so hot? like i’m imaginining looking up at it while I get fucked-

Quentin: you are so fucking twisted, baby.

Peter: Says the person who drove us to a freaking corn field, chased me through said corn field last Halloween and fucked me right up against the scarecrow.

Quentin: fuck, that’s probably my favorite halloween

Peter’s a massive Scream fan, but so is his boner for the Ghostface mask. Quentin hears the clink of Peter dropping the keys on their coffee table, the kid whistling a random tune while he shuffles through the mail (it’s so domestic, it makes Quentin’s heart clench). He loves the kid. The kid who matches his crazy. It takes a moment for Peter to meander into the living room and when he does, he hears the audible hitch in Peter’s throat.

As discussed, Quentin taps his middle finger thrice against the edge of the armchair to signal that it’s him.

“Oh shit.” Peter breathes out shakily, more out of awe than fear.

Quentin rises up from his chair, but doesn’t take a step forward. Peter backs up a step behind. The game is on.

“Shall we play a game of hide-and-seek, Petey?”

Because Peter fucking loves the adrenaline of being hunted. He puts up a massive fight, even though he knows Quentin will always have the advantage over him physically. But he lives for that moment when he’s really at Quentin’s mercy, thrashing and kicking.

It’s the way in which Peter’s eyes go hazy when he’s pinned beneath 184 pounds of Quentin, watching the older male’s muscles ripped and flex. It excites him that Quentin can overpower him, make him really take it, which is why Peter loves these games that they play.

“Please.” Peter’s breathing is becoming more labored. “Don’t hurt me.”

It’s so fucking cliche, but Peter makes it sound so delicious.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands right now.” The gun in the back pocket of Quentin’s jeans is obviously not loaded, so it’s light in his palm as he curls his fingers around it and takes it out.

“…you were saying?”

“Oh fuck.” Peter’s cheeks are flushed pink with arousal. “Jesus fucking christ.” He breaks character for a couple of seconds. “I fucking love you, Quentin Beck.”

[innerempire]

(Somewhat) Retired UFC fighter Quentin Beck meets Peter Parker, and both of them heal from the fuck-ups the Universe has thrown their way.

- / -

''Google says that you're a really well-known UFC fighter with four championships under your belt. You're right, us kids do live off google.'' Quentin can't help but to laugh, finding amusement in his words. ''I'm Peter, by the way. Definitely not famous.''

''Well, Peter. Thanks for your help.'' Quentin sticks his right hand out. ''Nice to meet you.''

[tightaroundthewebshooter]

kinktober day 4: cunnilingus

ship: quentin beck/peter parker 

word count: 323

warnings: nff, fem!peter, cunnilingus, gratuitous comma use. 

I’m pulling prompts from this list. I have nothing planned for tomorrow, but come back Sunday for some starker blowjobs. 

read on ao3

__

Quentin truly doesn't know what he'd done do deserve this, perfect Penny Parker laid out on his bed, letting him eat her out. She’s beautiful, flushed and sweaty and a little dazed from her previous orgasm. He takes a second to thank whatever God might exist and gets back to work, pressing kisses to her thighs and lovingly dragging his beard across the sensitive skin there, just to make her squirm. As much as he like teasing her, he knows what they both want right now, so he leans in and starts licking, circling her clit for a few seconds before moving down, licking long, slow stripes over her dripping hole. He might be crazy, but he thinks she tastes innocent, completely untouched by anyone but him. And maybe he’s perverted too, because that thought is so fucking hot he could come right then and there. 

He pushes his sweats down and grips his cock, matching the strokes of his hand to the strokes of his tongue, and brings his other hand up to thumb at her clit. She's getting close, he can tell by her little whimpers and the way her thighs shake, so he takes his hand from her clit, ignoring her sob, and easily pushes three fingers inside of her. He latches his mouth onto her clit and sucks, while crooking his fingers to rub her g-spot, and she’s losing it, wailing and yanking at his hair, thighs squeezing around his head as she comes again. 

He lets her catch her breath, resting his head on her thigh and smirking up at her, lets her push herself up on her elbows and grin back, even lets her start moving off the bed, away from him, before grabbing her hips and dragging her back down, flush against him. “Where do you think you're going, princess?” he asks, ignoring her squeal at his sudden rough movement. “I'm not done with you yet.”