
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13168551.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Marvel_Cinematic_Universe, The_Avengers_(Marvel_Movies), Spider-Man:
      Homecoming_(2017)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Parker/Everyone, Peter_Parker/Tony_Stark, Peter_Parker/Steve
      Rogers, Clint_Barton/Peter_Parker, Peter_Parker/Natasha_Romanov, Bruce
      Banner/Peter_Parker, Peter_Parker/Thor
  Additional Tags:
      Somnophilia, Sleepwalking, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Impregnation,
      Pregnancy_Kink, Forced_Pregnancy, mention_of_abortion, Come_Inflation
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-27 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2425
****** Weaving webs in my sleep ******
by Oversoul159
Summary
     Peter accidentally knocks up each of the Avengers. Accidentally
     because apparently those weird wet dreams he'd been having...weren't
     dreams. Oops?
Notes
     So, this is a lighter version of an idea that popped up for me while
     chatting on kik with feeder ism. Enjoy!
See the end of the work for more notes
Peter kind of wanted it to be known, perhaps on some sort of record, that he
was only  at best  twenty-five percent at fault for everything that happened.
 
He might even be willing to push that up to an even thirty.
 
Because really, it’s not as if this whole thing could have been avoided.
 
Probably.
 
Right?
 
----xxxx----
 
The first time Peter got to stay at the Avengers Tower overnight was in the
middle of summer during a month long “science camp” with Stark Industries.
Peter’s provisional junior membership with the Avengers was still pretty new
and fragile and his time with them would be filled with training, instruction
and just getting to know the team.
 
That very first day found Peter in the gym with Steve and Natasha, spending
half the time winning by a good margin and the other half of the time feeling
like a volleyball the way he was tossed from one hit to another.
 
After that there was dinner ordered in and a movie on Tony’s wall sized
television before he was ushered off to bed like an overgrown toddler. All in
all, it was a good day, made even better by just how great the entire building
smelled.
 
It was… Peter couldn’t even place it. It was a like a swirl of a dozen
different smells ranging from candy sweet to kiwi tangy that managed to be
subtle but still somehow deliciously aromatic.
 
----xxxx----
 
For Peter, the first two days had him waking up feeling deeply rested and loose
limbed despite not dreaming one bit. It was weird, but when the alternative was
usually nightmares, he figured he’d call it a win.
 
It was the third day when things got  weird .
 
Peter started having just...weirdly specific wet dreams.
 
Each night he’d dream of burying his cock, much larger and thicker than it was
normally, deep inside a different sleeping Avenger. He’d sneak into their room
and breath a thick pink gas into their mouths to keep them unconscious. Then
he’d take his time working them open, a thick coating of his copiously leaking
precum making the job easier. And finally, once they were nice and stretched
out, Peter would find himself sinking into their tight holes and then…
 
Peter would just  use  them.
 
He’d take them face down and ass up on the bed or propped up against the walls,
bent over furniture or even just on the floor, their bodies half shoved under
the bed from how hard he was slamming into them. And each time he’d knot and
cum inside them over and over again, dumping gallons into their once thin
frames by the time he was through.
 
Then he’d just stare at them for a couple minutes, watching as most of those
heavy loads somehow seemed to be absorbed into them, not a single drop spilled.
Once that was over and his knot had gone down, his victim would be picked up
and placed back into their bed. Peter would lean down and lick them all over,
marking them with his scent and healing their wounds, licking wrecked assholes
to bring them back to virgin tightness.
 
Sometimes the dream ended there. Other times...well, they were virgin tight
again and presenting so prettily…
 
Peter woke each morning with a raging hard on and feeling guilty as hell.
 
But hey, he was a teenager and had teenage hormones and all that. After
spending hours upon hours wrestling some of the sexiest people on the planet,
he should probably just be grateful that he didn’t get random “light brushing
of cloth by a breeze” erections anymore.
 
--xx--
 
For the most part, the next two weeks went by peacefully, aside from a weird
stomach flu that hit everyone but him. Peter spent a good portion of that week
providing support for people that were either steadfastly in denial of their
sickness or had so long forgotten what being sick was like that they were
mildly alarmed by it.
 
Somewhat used to sneaking about, Peter reacted in the cleanest ways possible.
For some, he reacted by leaving bowls of fruit within hand reach of anyone that
was likely to try to ignore their sickness but could be counted on to snack
absentmindedly (Tony and, on a bad day, Natasha). For others, he'd have snacks
and pain medication and easy to eat meals set out in random places, enticing
anyone nearby to partake without having to go to too much effort.
 
----xxxx----
 
It was about six weeks into his three month visit when Thor returned to Earth,
sweeping into the room in the middle of a movie marathon during a surprisingly
slow day.
 
(Clint had somehow gone his entire life without even knowing what Star Wars was
about. Even Steve had side-eyed that admission.)
 
Thor had blinked at his team in confusion, gave Peter a long considering look,
and then shrugged, going off to unearth his stash of marshmallow fluff to melt
into his own bowl of unbuttered popcorn.
 
Peter would later blame his lack of follow up on that look on being obscenely
distracted (and, eventually, enamored) by the sheer weirdness of that meal.
 
Because, seriously. Who thinks to do  that?
 
----xxxx----
 
As he passed Thor on the couch, Steve swiped the glass of mead in his hand.
Before he could even get it close enough to his mouth to take a sip, the glass
was swiped back somehow  more  easily, as if summoned away like Mjolnir. He
glanced back at Thor, who was sipping his drink daintily with a smirk, a teensy
bit afronted but mostly  up for the challenge.
 
With a grin, Steve wandered away, only to cut across a couple of rooms to sneak
back in and up behind Thor. Crouched behind the couch like a cat, Steve waited
until Thor had started to laugh at something Clint said before sweeping in to
get his prize.
 
A prize that just  would not  budge.
 
Steve planted his heels and pulled, now making full eye contact with the god of
thunder. Very slowly, the manic amusement in Thor’s eyes faded to confusion and
then concern, making Steve pause. It wasn’t as if this was a thing they hadn’t
done before.
 
“Everything okay?” he asked.
 
Thor watched him curiously, a slight tilt to his head. “Surely you don’t intend
to drink this?”
 
Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Thor. Thor, you’ve  seen  me drink
before. I can hold my mead,” he said dryly.
 
That earned him an small frown. “Are you not concerned for the health of you
and yours?”
 
Steve squinted at the man, taking a moment to parse through that. He suddenly
felt like he’d missed part of the conversation. “Should I be?”
 
Thor just stared at him for a long moment before realization flashed across his
face. He set his glass down and stood up, rounding the couch slowly like he was
approaching a wary animal. He grasped Steve by his biceps and carefully looked
him up and down. After that, he turned his head and glanced at each Avenger in
turn before his eyes landed on Peter.
 
And something about the look in his eyes - assessing, penetrating, not quite
alarmed but intent enough to be something quite near it - had Peter’s spider
senses sending a soft buzz all along his spine. As if to say, “Hey, you’re not
in danger but...yeah, this is probably gonna suck.” And, as if reading his
mind, Thor’s expression morphed to match that feeling before smiling wryly,
almost commiserating.
 
He finally turned back to Steve, who had been growing increasingly alarmed as
the silence stretched out. “Were you not aware that you were with child?” he
asked.
 
Steve blinked. It took him a moment for his brain to reload after the Blue
Screen of Death that had popped up behind his eyes and when it did, he blinked
again. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked flatly.
 
“You’re pregnant, my friend.”
 
“When did Steve get  pregnant?  He’s not exactly  social ,” Clint said, eyes
focused on Steve’s stomach with bafflement.
 
“I imagine with was around the same time that the rest of you were impregnated
as well,” Thor replied, calm as you please.
 
“WHAT?!”
 
----xxxx----
 
In the space of four hours, Peter learned a lot of new things:
 
One - despite having been born a beta and thus having no real scent to speak
of, that spider bite had apparently changed his dynamic to that of an alpha.
 
Two - those were very much  not  dreams. Apparently he’d gone into some form of
pseudo-rut wherein his spider instincts had taken over, because fifteen years
old was practically middle age for a spider, didn’t you know?
 
Three - the differences between dynamics was actually much more fluid than was
generally taught in schools, even at the college level. Rather than the hard-
lined “these people can carry children (fertile)” and “those people can supply
the seed for them (virile)” binary, it was more of a spectrum. Alphas were
generally very virile and pretty close to infertile. Omegas were generally very
fertile and pretty close to sterile, sperm-wise. Betas fell somewhere in the
middle, capable of giving or carrying children, though usually only one to
three at a time. Which meant…
 
Four - while incredibly unlikely, it was technically possible for an omega to
impregnate someone and for an alpha to be impregnated.
 
Five - a lack of scent in an alpha or omega usually implied a deficiency in
estrogen or testosterone and thus a lack of pheromones in general. Such a
person is usually sterile, similar to a person whose scent slowly disappears or
lessens after the removal of their ovaries/uterus or testicles. But…
 
Six - Peter was very, super,  alarmingly  not sterile.
 
Seven - Attempting to  not  bear the children could not be a thing.
 
Bruce was the one to figure that out. See, Bruce very much did not want to have
biological children. Apparently, there were seventeen  distinct  reasons for
that, starting with  him being the goddamn Hulk  and ending with “What if
this...this  thing  that I am is genetic? Can you  imagine  what the tantrums
would be like???”
 
So he had purchased and drunk a non-prescription early abortion aid.
 
And promptly threw up. Hard.
 
For an hour.
 
Deciding that it was entirely possible that the Hulk (and the inability to harm
oneself that came with him) was the reason for Bruce’s failure, Clint decided
to try his hand at it. Just having it in his mouth, not even swallowing, was
enough to result in a full body heaving until he relented and let the liquid
spill out of his mouth.
 
A surgical abortion? Well, the incision just went and healed itself as fast as
they could make it. They could only assume that it was a defense mechanism of
the baby spider people.
 
What. The actual. Fuck.
 
----xxxx----
 
Once everything sort of settled and they all more or less came to terms with
the fact that they were going to be mothers to anywhere between four (Natasha)
and thirteen (Steve) spider children, fathered by an stupidly virile  underage
father, the reactions were...mixed.
 
Tony felt  really  mixed. While he didn’t consider himself to be parent
material (at ALL, thanks), the beta had always sort of dreamed of having kids
(though not  carrying  them) and having something nice in that. Getting to be
the parent he never had, you know? Stronger than that feeling though was the
feeling that  everything in his home is made out of metal and holy shit the
babies will not live long enough to learn science because not one of them is
remotely capable of handling babies, let alone keeping the babies from harming
themselves and what do they even EAT???
 
Bruce’s feelings were not unlike Tony’s, though with an extra emphasis on the
“we are going to accidentally kill them in four days, wtf do we do???”
 
Clint and Natasha were essentially rolling with it because, as assassins,
that’s just kind of what you do. While Natasha had left for a couple minutes to
have a very mild freak out (aka, stare at a wall with no expression on her face
while screaming on the inside before taking a deep breath and just  dealing
with it ), Clint had slowly become somewhat giddy. While he never expected to
have kids and considered himself to be a bit of a fuck up, he actually did love
kids.
 
So, once Natasha had settled down, he’d taken her by the arm and decided that
they were going shopping. Because these kids, by virtue of being the kids of
the Avengers, were going to be the coolest motherfuckers (hopefully not
literally) on the planet and they were going to need to look the part. They
were going to be able to have clothes and food and books and other general
essentials that Clint was suddenly realizing was just basic baby essentials he
probably should have had himself as a kid.
 
But that just meant they were going to have even  more  of it, okay?
 
And Steve...Steve found himself watching Peter more.
 
Steve had been  born  an alpha, albeit a horrible excuse for one. And once he’d
received the serum, he suddenly looked and almost felt the part. But there were
times when he wondered if he should have been born an omega.
 
Because this? He  liked  this.
 
He  liked  knowing that this tiny pseudo-alpha had unintentionally used him in
his sleep. He  liked  the fact that he wasn’t even being given a choice in
whether or not to bear these children. He  liked  knowing how  utterly  knocked
up he now was, how the serum had not only made him into the perfect alpha, but
the perfect omega as well. He  liked  knowing that soon, there would be no way
to hide this. That in a couple months, people were going to look at him and
believe that Captain America had spread his legs for some random alpha and had
been summarily seeded beyond belief, likely intentionally because...well, how
else could he have gotten that big without fertility pills? That it would only
be a matter of time before he wouldn’t be able to even care for himself,
swollen and weighed down as he would be with Peter’s children, visibly useless
for anything other than being an incubator for those kids or worse, a toy for
Peter to use for his own gratification, teenager that he was.
 
He  really  shouldn’t like this as much as he did.
 
But look at where we were, huh?
End Notes
     Chat me up on kik or tumblr with the same username Oversoul159
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