⚠️⚠️

With your duffel bag over one arm and Indian take-out in the other, you dragged yourself up the stairwell and into the hallway of your apartment.

Making sure everything runs smoothly, you tug out the bottle of alcohol for presentation as you approach for good measure.

You slowly raise your knuckle to the door and... hesitated...

Oh god, oh fuck- you probably look and smell absolutely dreadful! you haven't showered or changed in the last 42 hours.

...You knock.

Knock

Knock

Knock

The door almost immediately swings open.

You don't look up.

You feel his grave eyes burn across your body and a soft grunt left his lips.

"You walked home... like that?" He grumbles, snatching the bottle from your hand.

"My work uniform?" You murmur in confusion, fiddling with it.

"Yes."

"I... wanted to get home as quickly as possibl-"

He puts his large finger to your lips. "Shhh... I'll let you off the hook this time doll. But the skirt is too short... ask for a different uniform" he says through his teeth before sluggishly leaving the door open for you and walking back inside.

You follow...

"So... no lights on?"

"-Too expensive!" Peter snaps as he falls back into his easy chair.

"Yeah, I agree..." You close the door behind you and set down your bag.

'Too short? The darn thing is sitting respectfully above the knee.'

Peter snaps you out of your thoughts with the clicking of his fingers. "Doll, can you put my food into a bowl?"

"Oh, yeah..." you mumble, heading towards the kitchen with the warm takeout in your hands.

He cuts you off, standing between you and the kitchen. "So, did you get rid of him?" He grumbles.

You frown. "Get rid of... who?"

"-Y/N!" He roars, launching clawed hands towards your throat but halts just before grabbing you... his shaking hands hovering around your throat.

His features then soften like he just flicked a switch. "My little dollface. My adorable little trophy-" Peter puts his hands on the sides of your tense face, his hands still shaking with visible anger. "-The thin man that walked you home..."

With a massive lump in your throat, you just nod with a quivering lip, fearing if you spoke you'd burst out into tears.

"Good~" he purrs, bringing you into a caging hug.

He pulls away, cupping your face again with a rather tight grip. "I'm so happy doll, well done for standing your ground. I saw the look in his eyes, he wanted to prey on you."

"...prey on me?" You whisper.

His grip on your chin tightens but his sweet smile remains, shaking his head with a chuckle like you were a child that didn't understand something. "You're vulnerable and an easy target for men like him. He is a very bad man that I use to work for, a truely horrible person, who is still out to get me. why I can't work anymore" his grip gets increasingly tighter.

"Yes yes yes! I agree just- Ow! babe can you... please let go" you let out a whimper, trying to back away.

Before you knew it, a massive hand shoved your chest and your back hit the carpeted floor.

"LIAR!" He stands over you then kicks you in the side.

You scream out and roll onto your now agonising side, bringing your arms up into a protective block.

He slams his foot down on top of you and your arm bends in a way that it's not supposed to. Again and again, the kicks keep coming.

"I FUCKING SAW YOU TALKING TO HIM AT YOUR BLOODY JOB TODAY!!" Peter shrieks, pinning your arms down on either side of you and fiercely pressing his body against you, crushing you against the floor.

"W-What" you mutter through your tears.

"I was outside your café. You need fucking conditioning you filthy animal!"

He smashes his lips onto yours and you felt sick. Your tongue retracts into the back of your throat when the essence of vodka forces itself into your mouth.

Your arm hurts, your ribs hurt.

Your head turns to the side to breathe but a sudden violent sting to your face makes you look at him again, he smacked you...

"Stop! Please no... I don't want to! PETER I DON'T FEEL LIKE IT!"

He lets go of your wrists for a second, and... you couldn't move. Your body has already gone limp and your mind goes blank on what to do.

Your eyes fixate on the ceiling as Peter has his way. Keeping your mind blank as his rough and almost burning touches assault your body.

It hurts. Everything hurts.

You whimper at every movement he makes, tears streaming down your face as your unblinking eyes stare off at the ceiling.

With one last yell, he finishes inside of you.

Peter slowly pulls himself out of you then starts to buckle himself back up, leaving you on the floor with your legs still open, skirt still up and underwear down.

You swore you were bleeding, the pain was unbearable.

"...you also spilt my fucking dinner" he growls, somehow finding the strength to grab a hold of your hair and drag you to your feet.

"Next time, put your fucking rat's hair up" he drags you by the hair to the door and shoves you out onto the ground.

Your hair tie must have snapped...

Your body winces when he slam of a door on you, leaving you out there with your panties still around your ankles in shame. You refuse to move, watching the ceiling blur up with your tears.

You did everything right... you just had to drop the food didn't you?

You eventually passed out on the ground, the carpet rough against your skin.

"...honey, call an ambulance"