once the sun disappeared and day turned into night, it was time for you to unwind before bed. any other night you’d be in the living room curled up on the couch, joint in hand as you settled on a random movie of tv show. it was nice outside, not too hot and not too cold, as you took it upon yourself to lay out on one of the lounge chairs in your backyard. you held the blunt between your lips as you raised the lighter, the flame igniting the opposite end as you inhaled the smoke into your lungs. a small smile crossing your face as you settle back against the lounge chair, bringing the blunt to your lips again.

you’re so distracted by the way the stars dance in the night sky you don’t even notice that your neighbor had snuck his way into your backyard, nose following the scent of cannabis like a cartoon character smelling pie on a windowsill. it’s when he clears his throat that you finally notice him off to the side, smirk prominent on his face as his eyes rake over every inch of your body, taking in your laid out, elevated state on the lounge chair.

“can i help you?” you ask in a semi-sultry voice, mainly affected by the high in your voice as you blink up at the man. it’s your turn to take him in when you finally turn your head to face him; he’s tall and bulky with a face so devilishly handsome that he could get you in trouble with the right (or wrong) look, biceps bulging as his arms were crossed and resting against his chest, that smirk on his face setting your skin on fire.

“you can help me at any time, any day, any way you want sweetheart.” the neighbor-stranger teases you as he walks towards you, taking a seat on the lounge chair next to you as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “right now you can pass me whatever it is you’ve got between those pretty little fingers of yours. i could smell that shit all the way from my backyard.”

you roll your eyes at his advances before passing the blunt in his direction, your eyes lingering on the way his fingers handled the blunt before bringing it to his lips, his eyes closing as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs. “so you’re the one i always see working on that impala in the driveway.”

you watched the cherry on the opposite end fade as he exhaled the smoke, looking down and nodding at the blunt in approval. “a woman who knows good weed and good cars. should’ve knocked on your door months ago.”

“then i’d have way less weed in my stash.” you tease him as he passes the blunt back in your direction, his large frame settling back against your lounge chair. “i don’t even know your name and you’re already trying to be my smoking buddy.”

“ben.” the faint grin is prominent on his face as the high settles into his body yet he can’t take his eyes off of you; the way your eyes close as you inhale the blunt, the way the straps of your tank top rest on your shoulders and how the hem rests right at your belly button, the way your shorts rest on your hips but from his angle he can tell they’re fairly short.

“ben.” you repeat before taking another drag of the blunt, passing it back in his direction. he loves the way his name sounds on your lips. “ben who lives next door with the ‘67 chevy impala in the driveway and the staring problem.”

“staring problem?” he raises an eyebrow as his eyes trail back up to meet yours, bringing the blunt to his lips.

“all you’ve done since you’ve been here is smoke my weed and stare at me.” you sit up and turn your body to face him, settling on the edge of the lounge chair. “interesting way of flirting.”

a laugh comes deep from ben’s gut as he shakes his head, pausing before taking another drag of the blunt. “bold of you to think i’m flirting with you, babygirl.”

“it’s hard to tell between the sneaking into my backyard, the pet names, the staring.” you shrug as you watch him, reaching for the blunt in his hands. “doing a shit job so far.”

“you think you can do better?” ben questions you with an arrogant look on his face that makes you roll your eyes at him, bringing the blunt back to your lips as you take a longer drag. you hold the smoke in your lungs as you stand and step over to ben, swinging your leg over his body as you settle onto his lap. his hands instinctively move to rest on your hips as your arms slip around his neck, mouth hovering over his as you exhale the smoke into his now parted mouth. his grip on your hips tightens and you swear you can feel his cock twitch under you.

“you tell me.” you sit back and take another drag of the blunt and exhaling before holding it up to ben’s lips, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched him tilt his head to secure it in his mouth.

“you keep it up and i’m stuffing my cock so far up your tight little cunt that the other neighbors’ll have no choice but to file noise complaints.”

steve loved watching you. he loved watching the way your body moved to the music. he loved watching the way you would meet his gaze, the slightest glint of a smirk tugging at your lips before continuing to pretend that he wasn't even there. he specifically loved watching the way your skirt would hitch up your thighs the same way it would whenever you went into his work. 

he was sure he was the reason behind it. no, he knew he was the reason behind it. that you would purposely pull your skirt higher just for him, and even more so when you would bend over in the aisles pretending to look for something on the bottom shelf. being well aware that he was the only one that could see you. 

he knew what you were doing - that you knew what you were doing - stringing him along and playing hard to get. you were challenging him. you weren't giving in to him like every other girl that looked his way recently. 

you were making him work for it - for you. 

except tonight he had other plans. 

tonight, he was finally going to get what he wanted. 

at least, so he thought. 

"listen, i know it was my idea to crash this party, but it's kinda lame," eddie joins you, disrupting your dancing and slowing down your movements. "y'wanna find the others and get out of here?"

eddie was right. the party itself was lame. the only thing giving you any sort of entertainment was the free alcohol and the look on steve's face - steve who had now disappeared from where he stood only a moment ago as you peer over your friend's shoulder. 

the munson boy waits for you to answer, your attention now absent from the conversation as you scanned the room rapidly but there was no sign of steve anywhere. he repeats his question, but it's not until he snaps his impatient fingers in your face that you finally return to him. 

"c'mon, let's find steve and robin and we'll go back to mine. can finally show you that new riff i learnt on the guitar." he imitates playing his sweetheart, hair bouncing in an unruly mess, as more bystanders begin to stare.

you laugh, giving him a slight nudge, "okay, munson. i'll search upstairs, you search downstairs."

the two of you pan off in different directions, you heading for the staircase by the front door as he began in the kitchen. as you pushed your way through the crowd, weaving yourself to the entryway, you spot robin at the bottom of them, but still no sign of steve. 

you call her name, but your voice falls on deaf ears over the music. she twirls around, hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt when she finally spots you and a relieved smile bestows upon her lips. 

"we're gonna go back to eddie's. where's steve?" you raise your voice, leaning towards her ear so that she could hear you. 

"he went upstairs. something about needing a moment away from the music,” she gestures upstairs where there were far less people. "i'll go get him."

she turns to head up the stairs but your hand catches her arm before she can so much as put her foot on the bottom step, "it's okay, i'll get him. you go find eddie and we'll meet you at his van."

robin nods, though there seems to be a knowing look in her eyes, a hint of a smirk as if there were some obvious secret only you didn't know about, and she traipses off toward the kitchen in search of eddie. 

once alone, you take one look up the large staircase and let out a deep breath. this was it, this was the moment you were finally going to tell steve that if he truly wanted you so bad, it was about time he did something about it. 

with each step, your heart seems to beat a little bit faster. the top of the stairs growing further away and when you finally get to them, there are only a couple of small groups of people scattered along the balustrade. you weave your way through the crowd once more to find the bathroom and just as you're about to knock, it opens before your hand can graze the wood with your knuckles. 

steve stands on the other side, eyes widening when he sees you, but the sight of him causes the breath in your throat to catch. his dishevelled hair, deep pink lips and dark eyes entrapped by a red tinge - he was truly a sight for sore eyes. 

"y/n," your name falls off the tip of his tongue like sweet honey, sending an immediate wave of bumps across your skin. "are you okay?" he looks almost concerned, brows furrowing when it takes you a moment to answer. 

"uh, yeah. we're going to ditch the party and, um, and..." you pause for a beat, words turning to a jumbled mess inside your head and all the confidence you had tried to bestill had disappeared. "... um, head back to eddie's. we're going to head back to eddie's." you repeat it a second time for safe measure. 

he nods, slowly, his eyes purposely falling to your lips as he exhales and leans back against the doorframe, "yeah. i mean, we could do that..." his words are even slower, pulling you in with each syllable. "or... we could talk about what's really going on here?"

this was it - this was the moment he finally did something about it. 

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you lift your right shoulder into a shrug, pursing your lips before gazing up at him through your lashes. 

his lips part as he leans in closer, his face so close you could feel his alcohol-saturated breath on your cheek. "so, i'm just imagining you pulling up that pretty little skirt of yours on purpose, huh?"

you almost gasp, throat tightening with need. need for him. "apparently... though, it's nice to know you've been thinking about me."

the devilish grin on your face now infuriates him because, once again, you were in control. 

a breathy chuckle leaves his lips, fingers raking through his hair, "what am i going to do with you?"

"i don't know. what are you going to do with me?" a moment of realisation passes through his eyes. you want him to do something about it, want him to finally give in to the urges. all this time, he had been waiting, and now, here you were, allowing him to have what had been torturing him. 

while his head races with a million thoughts, in reality, only seconds had passed by, but those few seconds were more than enough to build a wall of tension. his gaze falls to your lips once more, and in a heated movement of passion, he finally takes the leap and presses his to them. 

soft moans reverberate through his neck, daring to carry you away as your fingers curl through his hair. you press yourself against him, almost knocking him over, but he answers your neediness and pulls you into the bathroom to close the door and lock it. 

all the tension, flirty looks and suggestive gestures that had been building up over the past few months had finally started to unravel in a matter of seconds. igniting you both so much so that you were sure to catch fire. 

the kisses seem to last forever, despite feeling rushed, and when he starts to trail his lips down the side of your neck, you're left a hot mess as you try to regain your breath. your core was already aching for attention, throbbing within your underwear, as his hands ran rampant all over your body. 

he glides his tongue across your skin, hair tickling your face as he begins to suck lightly, "you've no idea what you've done to me. how badly i've wanted this." he mumbles against you, sparking thought in your mind, and at this, you gently push him away and slide yourself back on the counter.

"is that so?" you breathe heavily. "tell me about it."

there's a glint of confusion in his eyes, brows slightly furrowing, as he stands between your legs. you had so much power over him and you planned to keep it that way. 

if you gave in to him so easily, all the long months you had spent teasing and hinting at him would've been for nothing. he needed to know that you weren't going to give yourself up to him just because he wanted it - he needed to earn you. 

"d'you really want me, harrington?" your words are low, breathy, sending shivers down his spine as he gazes into your eyes. 

"fuck," he nods, the word shakily falling from his lips and he swallows hard. "i want you so bad."

your lips quirk up once again, heart beating so fast it was thrumming in your ears. you lean forward, lips barely grazing his, and whisper, "tell me what you want... while you watch me touch myself." before planting your teeth around his bottom lip and tugging on it.

"w-what?" there's a hitch in his voice as you feel yourself growing wet within the confines of your underwear. he's stunned. eyes wide and jaw taut. 

"tell me what you want, and i'm yours, but... touch me, and you lose." your words are barely above a whisper but they're enough to send shivers down his body. 

his breath catches in his throat, letting out a small gasp, as his dewy brown eyes bore into you once again. only this time, there was determination clouding them. he wanted you. he wanted you so bad, and he was going to do everything he could to get you - to finally feel you.

he opens his mouth to speak but stops when you lean back against the mirror, hitching your skirt up and spreading your legs before him. revealing the black lace underwear you had worn in anticipation. the same pair that he had only ever caught glimpses of. 

"what's the matter, harrington? you like watching me... don't you?" you ask, coyly, batting your lashes. 

he groans, lulling his head back to reveal his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows once more. you lift a finger to touch the tip of his chin, letting it trail down his chest before landing between your legs. he watches your hand as if his life depended on it. 

you slowly trace the edges of your underwear where your core was barely covered. lips poking out around the thin material, gathering up your wetness when your finger starts to rub small circles over the top of them. 

"are you wet?" steve asks, and you nod, brows arching from the touch already. 

he shuffles nervously on his feet, pulling at the material around his crotch to give himself more growing space, but his eyes never leave you. not for a second. and they only double in size when you finally move your panties to the side, confirming your answer - your sweetness glistening under the dim bathroom glow. 

"holy f-fuck, y/n," he retorts with astonishment, almost falling to his knees at the sight of you before him. "you're killing me here."

"tell me more," you press the tips of your fingers to your tongue, collecting the saliva that had gathered, and gently start moving them across your sweet little bundle of nerves. 

"you're so fucking pretty, baby. i bet you're so warm too. i bet your pretty little pussy is so fucking warm," his words caress your ears as your movement starts to speed up, building up the sensation in your core. "i want you so bad. i want to feel you wrapped around my cock. every fucking inch of you."

a small chuckle falls from your lips, as you now press your middle finger into your hole. moaning at the feeling and slowly you begin to fuck yourself, all while steve's eyes remain trained on you. catching a glimpse of you fingering yourself but focusing on your facial expressions and the way you're making your own mouth fall open with ecstasy. 

"fuck your little hole, baby," he says, almost demandingly, which again makes you want to prove that you were still in control. so you add another finger. "fucking hell, i want to taste you so bad."

"mmm-yeah? you wanna taste me, harrington? you wanna know what my pretty little pussy tastes like?" your words are slightly muffled, as you continue to penetrate yourself. fingers gliding in and out of your goodness with ease, hitting just the right spot as the top of your palm rubs your clit, causing your hips to buck up a little. 

his hand involuntarily falls to his crotch, he didn't think you noticed. but it was a little hard not to when he begins palming himself through his pants as his eyes burned with so much desire. desire for you. 

you can feel the coil within your core on the verge of breaking, ready to snap as you near your end. the pleasure of it all becoming too much, as your hips buck more rapidly, face contorting and mouth falling agape. you grab onto steve's jacket with your free hand, gripping the material and bringing him closer. 

"f-fuck, i'm gonna cum," your breathing is unsteady, all over the place as you get closer, wrapping your arm around steve's head to grab a fistful of his hair. “make me cum, harrington.”

“show me how you cum, baby. show me how pretty you look when you let it all go. you do that and i’m gonna fill you up so good,” his voice is low as he presses his head to yours. “you want me to bury my cock in you, don’t you?”

"mmm- fuck yeah," your moan is cut off by steve's mouth as he presses his lips to yours once more. immediately gliding his tongue across them for permission and you give it to him, letting his tongue enter. 

and just like that, you're overcome with stimulation. a wave of sensation coursing through you but steve doesn't pull away, instead, he muffles your cries with kisses as he takes in the sight of you. completely vulnerable as you chase your high. chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace as your hips twitch and buck, eyes glazed over and brows arched. to hear the sweet noises you made, muffled or not. 

it was a sight he had only seen once, but, oh boy, did he want to see it again. 

"oh, fuck," you sigh, words split by your panting as you try to regain your breath. you still hadn't stopped fingering yourself, only slowed down the movements as your creamy goodness collected along them. 

"i'm that good of a kisser, huh?" steve chuckles, staring down at you still slowly pumping your digits into yourself, eyes unwavering from the wetness that covered them. 

"whatever makes you sleep better at night," you smirk, finally pulling your fingers from your pussy at the same time someone knocks on the door. "i guess that's our cue to go. eddie and robin will be waiting for us."

you both slide off the counter, your underwear slipping down to your feet as you quickly wash your hands. but rather than pulling them back on when you’re done, you gather them and scrunch them into a ball. 

"what are you doing?" steve asks, confused when you pull the pocket of his jacket open and slip them inside. 

"think of it as a parting gift," you smile, patting it closed then lean up to place a soft kiss in his lips, "plus, it's easier access for later."

𝓵𝐨𝐨𝐤𝓲𝐧𝐠 𝓯𝐨𝐫 𝓶𝐨𝐫𝐞 .ᐣ library taglist form guidelines

Tonight had been quiet. Too quiet, maybe.

Peter lands lightly on the edge of a rooftop water tower, crouching as he scans the street below. The rain patters softly against his mask and somewhere nearby, music pulses faintly through thin apartment walls. A taxi splashes through a flooded intersection three blocks away.

Then he hears screaming, it’s just one sharp, terrified sound cut brutally short like the noise shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Peter freezes when he hears it.

His head snaps toward the alley three buildings down before his body moves automatically, webs shooting forward as he swings hard through the rain. Adrenaline hits instantly, fast and familiar. Someone’s hurt, someone needs help, he tells him. He lands in the alley harder than he means to, feet splashing in shallow puddles as his eyes immediately search for danger.

At first, all he sees is blood; dark red against wet pavement, too much of it.

The metallic smell slams into him beneath the rain, thick enough that it nearly stops him in place. His stomach twists instinctively as his gaze catches on the body sprawled crooked near the brick wall. Male, mid-thirties maybe, motionless. His shirt is torn open, ribs partially exposed beneath gore that glistens under the flickering alley light. And kneeling over him—you. Peter stills completely.

You don’t notice him immediately; your shoulders shake violently as you crouch over the corpse, hands slick crimson to the wrists. Blood stains your mouth, your throat, smeared down the front of your jacket in awful streaks. You look less like a monster than something wounded beyond repair.

Then you hear him breathe and your head jerks upward instantly. For one terrible second, Peter sees pure panic in your eyes. There’s no aggression, no rage but just fear. You scramble backward so quickly your shoulder slams against the brick wall behind you. A broken sound leaves your throat, halfway between a gasp and a sob. Your chest rises sharply with uneven breaths, eyes wide and glassy as you stare at Spider-Man standing frozen a few feet away.

“No,” you whisper immediately, shaking your head before he even speaks. “No, no, no—” Peter doesn’t move, eyes wide underneath his mask. Rain drips steadily between both of you, breaking the silence. You look horrified: not because you got caught but because you exist. “I’m sorry,” you choke out suddenly, voice breaking apart. “I didn’t—I tried to stop—I—”

Your words collapse into another sharp breath. You drag one bloody hand across your mouth instinctively like you can wipe the evidence away, but it only smears more crimson across your skin. Your entire body trembles hard enough Peter notices it even through the rain.

And something inside him shifts instantly because you aren’t looking at him like someone preparing to attack. You’re looking at him like someone waiting to be hurt and Peter swallows hard beneath the mask.

“Hey,” he says carefully, softly enough it almost disappears beneath the rain. “Hey, it’s okay.” You stare at him like he’s speaking another language and your expression crumples further. “It’s not okay,” you whisper.

Peter glances once toward the body before looking back at you. The sight should probably horrify him more than it does, maybe it would have once. But he’s seen too much death in this city already, too many terrible things. Too many people driven to impossible places, consequences of the society.

And right now, all he can focus on is the fact you look devastated, not even dangerous. “You hurt anywhere?” he asks gently. The question hits you harder than if he’d yelled. Your eyes widen slightly, like you don’t expect those words to get out of his mouth. “What?”

“Are you hurt?” Peter repeats, taking one cautious step closer. “You’re shaking.” You let out this small, disbelieving laugh that sounds dangerously close to crying. “You should be scared of me.” Peter’s chest tightens painfully at how certain you sound. Instead of answering, he slowly crouches down several feet away from you, making himself smaller, less threatening. Rainwater beads along the red and blue fabric of his suit as he keeps his movements slow and careful.

“I’m Peter,” he says quietly, deciding to give you this little piece of information about him and you blink at his masked face. “You’re Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, but also Peter.” Your breathing remains uneven and blood drips slowly from your fingertips into the puddles beneath you. “You shouldn’t be this close to me,” you whisper.

“But I am.”

Something in your expression fractures completely after that.

Peter watches tears suddenly spill down your face, cutting clean tracks through the blood smeared across your skin. You look embarrassed by them immediately, turning your head sharply away as though ashamed to cry in front of him. “Oh,” Peter says softly, heart aching at the sight. “Hey, no, don’t—”

Before he can stop himself, he reaches toward you carefully and you flinch; not away from him, no, but like you expect pain. Peter’s hand pauses inches from your face. “Can I?” he asks quietly. You stare at him for a second before giving the smallest nod imaginable. His gloved fingers brush your cheek with impossible gentleness, you almost break apart from it.

No one has touched you kindly in so long you’d nearly forgotten what it feels like.

Peter wipes rainwater, tears, and blood carefully from beneath your eye with the side of his thumb. The gesture is so unbearably soft compared to the horror surrounding both of you that your chest physically hurts from it.

“You’re freezing,” he murmurs. You shake your head immediately. “I killed someone.”

“I know.”

“You should hate me.” Peter’s brows pull together slightly beneath the mask. “Why would I hate you?” 

A broken laugh escapes you at those words: because everyone should, because there is blood in your teeth, because there is flesh still caught beneath your fingernails, because normal people don’t kneel over opened bodies in dark alleys with tears running down their faces while the city sleeps above them.

“You don’t understand,” you whisper hoarsely. “Then explain it to me.”

The words are immediate, simple, honest and they make you still for a second or so. He wouldn’t understand, you tell yourself. He can’t. You stare at him through rain and tears and flickering alley light, struggling to understand why this stranger is looking at you with concern instead of disgust.

Your voice shakes when you finally speak. “I tried not to.”

Peter stays quiet.

“The hunger gets bad sometimes,” you continue weakly, eyes dropping toward your blood-covered hands. “I can ignore it for a while but eventually it just—it hurts. It feels like my body is eating itself alive.” Your breathing stutters. “And then tonight he grabbed me and I could smell the blood and—”

You stop abruptly, nausea washing across your face but Peter listens without interrupting once. “I didn’t want to,” you whisper finally. “I never want to.” The rain falls harder around both of you.

Peter glances briefly toward the corpse again before looking back at you. There’s grief in his expression now, sadness but not revulsion. For a second, he wishes you could see it, see his expression and realize he’s not afraid of you. “You feel guilty,” he says quietly. You laugh weakly through tears. “I ate someone.”

Peter’s chest twists like he can understand the way you feel, or how much you hate yourself for it. Slowly, carefully, he reaches up and pulls his mask off and your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him. He looks younger than you expected; softer somehow. Damp curls cling to his forehead from the rain, brown eyes painfully open and earnest as he looks at you like you’re still human beneath all this blood. “I know what it’s like,” he says quietly, “to be scared of yourself.”

You stare at him. “It’s not the same,” you whisper, shaking your head. “No,” Peter admits softly. “Maybe not. But I know what guilt feels like.” Something in his face tells you he means it, really means it.

You realize suddenly that he’s probably seen horrifying things too; lost people, failed people and carried things he doesn’t know how to put down.

But still—still he’s touching your face like you deserve kindness. Your voice cracks slightly. “Why are you being nice to me?” Peter looks genuinely confused by the question, once more. “Because you’re upset.” You stare at him helplessly, like it’s that simple, like you being monstrous does not erase your pain. It’s not.

The thought settles somewhere deep inside you, somewhere raw and aching.

Peter notices your breathing getting sharper again and immediately shifts closer carefully. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he says softly. You do, pupils blown out, teary. “You’re okay.” He adds, quietly but it makes you shake your head. “I’m not.”

“You are right now.”

Another sob catches painfully in your throat.

Peter glances toward your bloodied hands before carefully taking one in both of his despite the gore coating your skin. You swear to feel his skin against yours and the warmth nearly destroys you. “You don’t have to be scared for me,” he says gently.

“You should be.”

“Well,” Peter says quietly, offering the smallest, saddest smile, “I’m not.” You look down quickly because suddenly crying feels unbearable, no one has ever reacted like this before. Not to this. People fear you, they leave you, they hunt you and sometimes try to kill you. But this boy in a spider suit is kneeling in blood beside you holding your shaking hands like you’re something fragile instead of monstrous.

“I don’t know how to stop,” you whisper after a long silence. Peter squeezes your hand carefully, then. “We’ll figure it out.”

The words hit you strangely hard. We. Not you, not just your problem. We.

“You don’t even know me,” you say weakly. Peter shrugs slightly, rainwater dripping from his curls. “I can still help.” Your chest aches so sharply it almost feels like hunger again, except warmer somehow, softer like something unfamiliar unfolding painfully beneath years of guilt and isolation.

Care.

You realize with sudden, devastating clarity that no one has ever cared what happened to you after, only what you did. Peter notices the way you’ve gone quiet and tilts his head slightly. “What?” You shake your head quickly. “Nothing.” You voice up.

“You sure?”

“No one’s ever…” Your voice falters. “No one’s ever asked if I was okay before.” Peter goes very still at the words leaving your mouth. The rain continues falling around you both, washing diluted blood slowly toward the sewer drain beside the alley wall.

And then Peter does something that nearly breaks your heart completely: he reaches up carefully and brushes damp hair away from your face. “I’m asking now,” he says softly. The gentleness in his voice ruins you and a sob escapes before you can stop it. Immediately, he moves closer, instinctive concern flooding his face. “Oh, hey—hey, it’s okay.”

You laugh weakly through tears. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it is.”

“There’s a dead body right there.” Peter glances toward it briefly before looking back at you again. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “But you’re still crying over it.”

The words settle deep inside your chest, because he understands then. Maybe not fully, maybe not completely or maybe he’s just trying to help like he’s supposed to. But it’s enough; enough to know monsters usually don’t grieve what they’ve done, enough to know you are suffering.

Peter’s thumb wipes another tear carefully from beneath your eye, uncaring when blood smears against his glove again afterward. “You shouldn’t have to carry this alone,” he says softly. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the rain, maybe it’s the unbearable tenderness of a stranger kneeling beside you in the aftermath of something horrific and still looking at you like you matter but for the first time in years, the shame loosens slightly around your ribs.

It’s not disappearing, oh no, never disappearing, but softening enough that you can finally breathe through it.

Peter stays beside you in the alley long after the rain soaks both of you completely. He keeps talking quietly, gently, grounding you every time your breathing starts to spiral again and when your hands won’t stop shaking, he holds them without hesitation despite the blood still staining your skin.

Like he doesn’t see something monstrous sitting in front of him, just someone hurting.

And somehow, impossibly, that feels far more terrifying than hatred ever could.

HEADCANONS ﹏ THE DYNAMICS.

headcanons happens after eater!reader and peter's first meeting in the alley.

after that first night in the alley, peter absolutely cannot stop thinking about you. not in a fearful way, but in a deeply worried one. he keeps replaying the image of you crying with blood on your hands while apologizing over and over like you were waiting for punishment and it genuinely unsettles him how much shame you carried compared to how little anger there was in you.

you disappear afterward, of course. that’s what you always do; vanish before attachment becomes dangerous. but peter keeps looking for you anyway during patrols, swinging slower through the neighborhoods where he first found you, checking rooftops and quiet alleyways with this constant nervous hope in his chest.

the second time you meet, it’s because you are actively trying not to feed. peter finds you sitting on the fire escape of an abandoned building at three in the morning, curled tightly into yourself with your forehead pressed against your knees. your hands are shaking so violently you can barely hold still. he lands beside you softly and doesn’t mention the blood drying beneath your fingernails.

peter learns very quickly that hunger makes you quieter, not louder. you withdraw into yourself completely when it gets bad. shorter answers, distant eyes, breathing too carefully like you’re trying to hold your body together through sheer force of will.

peter is probably the first person in years to touch you casually without fear; bumping his shoulder against yours while sitting beside you on rooftops, brushing rainwater off your sleeve, gently fixing strands of hair stuck to your face. at first, every tiny act of affection completely stuns you because you are so used to people recoiling once they know what you are.

there’s one night where the hunger gets so violent you accidentally snap at him to leave you alone because you’re terrified of what your body wants from him and peter just quietly sits down several feet away and says: “okay. i’ll stay over here then.” because he refuses to abandon you even when you push him away.

rooftops become your thing together. long nights sitting side-by-side above the city while peter talks and you listen quietly and sometimes your shoulder eventually leans against his without either of you acknowledging it or sometimes he falls asleep beside you accidentally after patrol and trusts you enough not to fear waking up vulnerable near you.

he never treats you like a ticking bomb. cautious sometimes? yes. worried? often. but never cruelly afraid. peter sees your hunger as something painful rather than evil, and that fundamentally changes the way you begin seeing yourself over time.

eventually, your body starts associating peter with safety instead of hunger. his heartbeat becomes grounding, his voice calms the spiraling in your head, his hands on your face during panic attacks start feeling more natural than frightening.

and honestly? peter becomes the first place that has felt remotely like home in years. not because he fixes you and not because the hunger disappears but because for the first time, someone sees the absolute worst parts of you and stays anyway.

OO2 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀if you guys happened to be at a bar you’d most likely end up kissing him at some point in the night . tongue and all . sam stopped complaining and just minded his business , already choosing another table for him to crash and enjoy his beer far away from you guys freaky selves .

OO3 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀you ’ re the one to propose role play in the bedroom and who the fuck is he to say no ?

“ i really think it’d be nice to be slapped by a cow girl during sex … ”

OO4 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀ and you did give him a few smacks , mushy tip kissing your cervix while you bounced happily on his dick with nothing on except for the cowboy boots . he was the happiest man alive

“ you think we could make a sex tape ? ” you once asked out of the blue. “ what , you mean amateur porn or sex tape sex tape ? ”

OO4 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀next thing you know , dean had his personal camera in one hand as he thrusted you from behind . skin rippling at the smacks he gave to you ass . ++ he secretly jerked off to the few tapes you filmed whenever he or you were away

OO5 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀HEAVY on that costume kink !! you give him bedroom eyes whenever he shows up in his cheap costumes .. tbf you thinks he’s sexy in any costume and you guys always end up fucking in random places

OO6 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀big in semi - public too btw . . . it’s that bad . dean swears you’re insane but still lets you give him a blow job behind his car in the empty parking lot in front of the motel .

OO7 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀you’re also the one who proposed to put music on during sex and dean insisted on choosing his personal playlist . so whenever he was down on his knees with his thumbs spreading your folds and tongue lapping at your pussy thoroughly , enter sandman or some other classic rock music would blast through his speakers

OO8 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀you secretly wanna peg him but you left him some hints here and there for him to catch on . . . he’s so dense he never caught them until he saw your search history—there was a link to an online boutique selling sex toys and he saw a strap-on in your wish list .

OO9 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀whenever you’re on top ( which is almost all the time ) you lean down to bite his nipples and that always surprises both of you every time a very raunchy grunts leave his lips

　𝒕𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⠀ : @rh1nestcned , @pittsick , @alasdecas , @mtcloudsworld , @cup1dssorrow .

⠀　⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ♱

⠀ ⠀𓃚, ⠀ 𝐄𝐒𝐓. ⠀ ⠀ 2O26 ⠀ by 🩺 ⠀ ⠀ ﹒ ﹒ ⠀ 𝙰𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙵𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙴𝚂⠀ 𓈒

OO3 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀it’s a very long process but once he admits it after weeks of contemplating your beauty from afar . that’s when it become more insufferable bc it becomes harder to interact with you without letting anything on about his crush on you . yeah , he hards a very hard time but he actually nails it .. until you’re robby who immediately spotted the change in his body language when you’re around

OO4 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀if you ever lose a patient ( yeah sadly , it happens ) he always make sure to check on you . most of the time you go isolate yourself somewhere — can be the break room , the roof .. no matter where you are he’ll come find you and gives you words of encouragement , even hug you if necessary .

“ it wasn’t your fault , okay ? you did what you could . ” he would way with a soft lower tones , which is apparently enough to make you feel better ( he hopes )

OO5 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀jack is .. a gentleman ( some people would say he is so he started to believe it himself ) . he would do more for you than he does to other people : holding doors for you when you enter or exit a room , always brings you food at random times of the night and he apparently always choose the perfect moment bc it’s always when your system needs a boost . he’s also very observant because he always brings you your favorites snacks ( he saw you eat some a few times during your short breaks and immediately took notes )

OO6 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀you ever have financial problems ? jack doesn’t mind paying things for you . got a little trouble to pay your bills ? he send you the money , tell you it’s not a big deal when you tell him it’s too much . don’t have money to go grocery shopping ? he’ll just send some delivery at your doorstep and when you ask him if it’s him he’ll just deny it

OO7 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀his stomach always flips whenever you say his last name . he’s just the way you say it , really . and he think it’d be worse if you ever called him by his first name .. he’s a teenage boy all over again

OO8 ⠀ ⠀ 𐂂 ⠀⠀˖⠀ ⠀the first time he sees you without your scrubs and , it’s at some bar nearby the hospital where everyone is gathered to share a beer . he’s immediately in awe , as he never saw you in normal clothes before that night .

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　𝒕𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⠀ : @rh1nestcned , @pittsick , @alasdecas , @mtcloudsworld , @cup1dssorrow .

⠀

⠀　⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ♱

⠀

⠀ ⠀𓃚, ⠀ 𝐄𝐒𝐓. ⠀ ⠀ 2O26 ⠀ by 🩺 ⠀ ⠀ ﹒ ﹒ ⠀ 𝙰𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙵𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙴𝚂⠀ 𓈒

vampire!jason who comes into your home while you’re sleeping. he hasn’t seen you in over two years and when you wake up with him crowding over you, you scream at the top of your lungs. eyes wide in a panic as you thrash and he places a firm palm over your lips. his eyes shone a bright green and his lips were stained an unnatural red, still dripping down his chin. his eyes sunken in as he pleads with you despite having the upper hand.

“please help me,” he practically cries before inching closer. when you don’t move, he collapses onto your chest, letting his weigh rest on you and burying his face there for comfort.

still reeling from your bestfriend coming back to life, you hold him there against you. hand smoothing back his tangled hair and a new tuft of white that took home on his bangs. you keep him close like he could leave you again.

vampire!jason who explains what happened vaguely because even he didn’t understand. he tells you he just woke up like this. that he’s sorry to scare you and clenches his fists like he’s afraid to see what he’d do if he touched you. despite touching you he seems afraid to use his hands.

vampire!jason who tries to fight the urge to sink his teeth into your plush neck, but he fails. his head moves from your chest to your shoulders, then his lips kiss your neck. you jolt in his grip and gasp his name, your body betraying you with how much you’d wanted this. never imagining that you’d get a chance with him since you never got to tell him you loved him. he takes a deep breath from the crook of your neck and moans.

“you smell exactly how i remember.” breath ghosting over your skin, “even better now.”

you gulp as his fingers curl around your neck and apologies begin to slip past his perfect lips.

“i’m so sorry. i need to. i have to do this.”

before you could question what he meant, the veins around his eyes suddenly become darker and your eyes widened again. he leaned further into you and breaks your skin with his teeth. the scream quickly dies in your throat as a stinging pleasure takes form. you gasp his name but hold him closer. thankful to have him back in any way.

vampire!jason who moans egregiously while he sucks your blood. the sound echoes from your throat, dancing by his ears while he continues cursing himself for feeling this way about you. you don’t miss how he inches himself closer to you, hands at either side of your head digging in and ripping the sheets. he mewls as he pulls from your neck, his mouth relentless against your skin. his eyes roll to the back of his head as he stuffed himself further ontop of you.

vampire!jason who begs you for forgiveness afterwards. on the verge of tears, he stares down at you and whimpers your name. he pulls your limp body upright in his lap and cradles your head close.

“fuck— i didn’t mean to take so much. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.”

but you’re smiling in a blissful state because of felt like your were staring at yourself, outside of your body.

vampire!jason who feeds you his blood while your half conscious. something told him this was the cure to his losing control. in the back of his mind he knew he was teetering with life and death and that you were the only person he needed and thought of when he awoke. not bruce, not joker, but you. all he wanted was you and nothing could stand in his way now or ever.

vampire!jason who doesn’t sleep until you gasp awake hours later. he holds a damp towel to your forehead and still has your dried blood on his face, not caring for it but only you. he sighs as you grab at him in confusion, pulling himself closer to smell the tasteful nectar that no longer ran through your veins. you breathe his name back and ask him for some. without a second thought, he bites at his wrist and holds it to your mouth.

vampire!jason who thinks he could’ve came from the sight of you like this. his lips part and moan, watching your eyes glow a low red as you wrapped tight fingers around his wrist. a breathless gasp escapes him and a growing heat emerges.

“don’t do this with anyone else okay?” he suddenly says. “just with me.”

you’re too far gone to have register anything but the sweet warmth on your tongue.

vampire!jason who quickly understands the intimacy of this moment. he immediately sees how much of you he wanted and badly he needed you just like this. he held your head close, cradles you in his arms as he leaned against the headboard. his hips mindlessly bucking and stilling like he were holding back. he doesn’t stop you from taking what you wanted and he smiles throughout it all.

You can hear another sigh leaving Dex’s mouth before he speaks once more. “Y’like having my fingers in your mouth, don’t you? Such a pretty girl.” You can feel the rest of his digits touching your jaw, tilting your head up so he can take a better look at the expression on your face. You hum around his thumb, nodding your head at his question. His eyes sparkle with mockery for a second or so, and then, you feel his digit pushing onto your tongue, Dex rubs the pad of his thumb against the roughness of it.

A sigh leaves your nose as you suck on his finger harder, your cheeks hollowing even more, your eyes half-lidded. “You’re imagining my cock, aren’t you?” The words are said with mockery and teasing, making you whine.

The noise is muffled but loud enough for Dex to hear it, and chuckle right afterwards. “Of course you are, because you’re such a good girl.” He adds, making you look up at him. You move your head, his thumb on the edge of your lips now, wetting them with your own saliva before you take it back inside your mouth. Just like you’d do with his cock inside your mouth.

Dex grunts at the view, letting himself rest inside the couch, hazel eyes locked on you. His legs are spread wide, his position suggestive as it makes you able to see the bulge hiding in his grey sweatpants. Your hands rests on the top of his thighs, making him shift toward you.

“Something else you want in your mouth, sweetheart?” You know he’s only teasing now, but the way he looks at you makes your stomach all warm and your brain fuzzy. Dex has this kind of power over you, which is totally unfair. 

Your teeth close slowly onto his thumb and you end up nibbling on it again, tongue rolling around the digit before pushing against the pad of it. You watch as Dex’s free hand gropes at his crotch, adjusting his boxers. You whine around his finger again, he looks at you with a smirk and you can’t help but think about how hot he is with the scar on his face.

Once more, he starts to push his thumb against your tongue, wetting his finger with all the saliva pooling inside your mouth. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He asks but it’s more for himself than anything else.

He pulls his thumb until it’s on the edge of your lips again before pushing it back inside your mouth. He does that multiple times, as if he was fucking your mouth with his digit and you can only whine around it. “Yeah, I know, baby. You want something bigger, don’t you?” Dex asks, your sparkling eyes look at him before he grunts, pulling his thumb out of your mouth completely.

“Fuck, come here baby, I’ll give you what you want.” He says, hand crawling to the back of your head while his other one pulls on his sweatpants, freeing his hard cock.

“Suck on it like a good girl.”