Yandere!Lawyer X Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Howl and Sophie <3

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So, like, out of nowhere, I got an idea and then I saw your requests were open so AAAAAAH I had to come and give you an ask. Anyway— Only if you can, could you write headcanons for DBH Connor, Markus, Rupert, Simon and Ralph with, like, different ways you make them smile? Gender neutral reader maybe? Obv you don’t have to include all the characters, I’d be excited just to see you responded to me, but I was just feeling a good vibe today and felt like popping in for a hot second LOVE YOU sorry if this was kinda all over the place, I’m running off of 2 hours of sleep, McDonald’s and a Pepsi.

HOW YOU MAKE THEM SMILE | DBH

characters: connor, markus, rupert, simon, and ralph.

Connor (RK800)

— Most humans are indifferent or straight-up rude to Connor because he’s an android, so he doesn’t have much basis for comparison. This means all you really have to do is be nice to him and he’s enamored.

— “Would you give the poor guy a break, he’s just trying to help.” You snapped at Hank when he was giving Connor a hard time the first day you met at the station, before going back to angrily typing on your terminal. 

— The Lieutenant waved you off but Connor’s curiosity was piqued. Most humans refer to androids as “it”, and the fact that you didn’t was intriguing to him.

— Treat him like he’s human. Even the little things, like asking if he wants a drink- even if you know androids don’t eat or drink, it’s the fact that you ask anyways that has him smiling stupidly. Tell him to get home safe, ask if he’s feeling alright, and invite him out somewhere. Making Connor feel wanted without him necessarily having to do anything to earn it is a surefire way to have him smiling in your direction—especially when you aren’t looking.

— Kissing him is a given since he’s obsessed with it. Peck his cheek or the corner of his lips as you pass by and you’ll have him smiling at you over his shoulder with that lovesick puppy dog look.

— It takes a long time for Connor to grasp jokes, so puns and humorous jabs will only get you a confused head tilt in response. But he likes your laugh so if you’re giggling trying to get your joke out he can’t help but beam at you.

— The first time you held his hand was on a case you were assigned together, a suspect veered around the corner and you tugged him by the hand behind a dumpster to avoid detection. You’d been too focused on the suspect to realize you were still holding his hand but Connor noticed.  You didn’t see the way his LED flashed yellow as he inspected your joined hands, fascinated by the sight of your pretty fingers laced between his own. And when you turn to find him smiling at you, you realize your mistake, apologizing profusely.

— So a big fan of hand-holding, please do it more often, the corners of his mouth can’t help but twitch upwards when you do.

— GRINS LIKE A MENACE WHEN YOU STAND UP TO PEOPLE FOR HIM. People are jerks and while Connor tends to just brush them off, sometimes you can’t and you match their energy right back at them. And Connor likes it very much, can’t help but get smug knowing he’s untouchable around you because you’ll gladly throw hands to defend his honor. Will hold you back if things get physical, however.

— If someone were to insult him too harshly he would just say “Y/n will be hearing about this 😌” 

— Everyone at the station knows to fuck off unless they want an angry chihuahua biting at their ankles. Gavin tests your patience and Connor is very entertained watching the two of you bicker over him.

— When you tilt his chin up to look at you when he’s overwhelmed, asking for him to talk to you. And when he can’t find the words, you pull him into your arms and let him press his face into your neck for comfort, telling him he’s gonna be alright. You hold him until you feel him smile against your clavicle and his LED flickers back to blue.

Markus (RK200)

— You were a big help during the revolution, hiding runaway deviants and sending them to Jericho. It was only natural that you ended up spending a lot of time together and eventually falling in love, despite your differences. Loves that you treat him like a person and are so kind to his people, they’ve suffered so much at the hands of humans, it’s you that reassures him that not all humans are incapable of being enlightened. 

— Smiles at you from a distance as you care for the damaged androids in Jericho, knowing they’re safe in your caring hands. You do what you can with the supplies you’re able to swipe and offer comfort to those who are too far gone.

— Markus likes to share his interests with you. If you ever wanted to paint with him, he’d be overjoyed, just being in the zone and then being able to look over at you and see you so focused on your creation. Sit down next to him while he’s at the piano and lean against him while he plays, let him teach you to play, let him move your hands to the correct positions, and listen to his soft voice guiding you through keys and their correspondences.

— Loves when you cook together, though the majority of the time you’re distracted by one another and doing more smooching and dancing than paying attention to the stove. Say hello to slightly overcooking stuff because you were too busy tongue-wrestling with your android boyfriend.

— Markus smiles the most when you somehow exactly when he needs comfort, and do so without hesitation. It’s like you’re able to see his stress levels, which he knows is impossible, but it makes him no less impressed with your emotional intelligence. You really are his grounding force, when he’s ever uncertain or lost, he knows he can come to you.

— You two have a bit of a habit of lovingly bullying one another at every opportunity, and he loves that you can keep up.

Rupert Travis (WB200)

— Rupert doesn’t trust humans easily, but showing affection for birds will draw him to you. Maybe you frequent the same park and he often sees you feeding birds—maybe you even have a bird of your own! His Pigeons are his babies, so if you’re kind to them, you’re being kind to him by extension.

— When you finally get past that defensive wall of caution Rupert uses to protect himself from being detected and deactivated, he’s very sweet. Still quiet, but you can see that he wants to be close to you. If he catches you baby-talking to his birds he can’t help but grin.

— Smiles when you tip the bill of his hat up so you can see his eyes, and practically beams if you lean in to kiss him. He’s… so soft ugh. He’s shy about reciprocation at first, his model was programmed primarily for agriculture, so romantic gestures are outside his realm of expertise. He does enjoy your gentle touch, however, so much so that he seeks it out when he requires comfort. Sometimes all he wants is for you to wrap him in your arms and let him lie there, you don’t even need to speak.

— if you go out somewhere together (which will take convincing, especially before the revolution) he sticks to your side and keeps his head down, he needs your shoulders to be touching or your hand to grip as you traverse food stalls and aisles in the grocery store. But if you whisper little jokes or sweet nothings to him he can’t help but smile softly at you.

— Rupert likes to listen to you talk, he doesn’t have loads to add to a conversation but he’s a great listener. And if you trail off thinking you’re talking his ear off he’ll ask you something else to get you going again.

Simon (PL600)

— Simon feels things very deeply, lending an ear when he needs to talk makes him comfortable with you. He feels he doesn’t have to keep up a brave face with you like he does to reassure the others in Jericho, he knows you’ll listen and understand. He’s very grateful when you help him work through new emotions, seeing as you’ve experienced many of those being a human and all.

— Saying thank you when he inevitably does things around the house for you once you settle into domesticity, being thanked for things is still quite new to Simon. It feels good to be appreciated and treated like he’s a living being.

— If you thought being thanked wasn’t enough to give him whiplash receiving gifts certainly will be! If you’re the artistic type, make him something and tell him that he inspires you. The prospect of being your muse makes him feel very special, and the fact that you’re always thinking of him and what he’d want makes him feel even more in love with you.

— You’ll often catch Simon gazing at you with that soft smile while you’re doing everyday things, even though he offers to take care of housework you insist on sharing responsibilities. “You’re my boyfriend, not my maid, we’ll do it together.” It’s then when he realizes just how serious you are about your relationship and he wants to cry he’s so happy.

— Smiles at you when he catches you staring with that loving look in your eyes.

— Has to bite back a grin every time you refer to him as your lover to other people, especially if it confuses them and you say “Yes my boyfriend is an android, is that a problem?” Your confidence is usually enough for people to awkwardly drop the subject, but the few who have pressed get the cold shoulder very quickly.

— He’s proud to be yours, so he enjoys it when you reinforce the idea.

— Simon very much enjoys being called pet names, by the way, call him honey, sweetheart, baby— makes him melt into a puddle every time. Watch his eyes soften and his cheeks fill with blue blood as you call him the sweetest things, he appreciates them, no matter how silly they become.

Ralph (WR600)

— Humans have terrorized Ralph and his psyche has suffered greatly because of it, so for you to be kind to him after all of that seems too good to be true. But when you look upon him with so much affection and treat him with so much care Ralph can’t bring himself to rip himself away from you. You who see him as a person, and not a machine.

— Ralph is always happy to see you, and the moment you walk through the door he’s practically beaming and jumping for joy. Your presence is a comfort to him once he is no longer afraid of you. While Ralph is glad to be “free” he gets very lonely and craves companionship, like you saw with Kara and Alice he wants to be a part of a family—even if he initially went about it the wrong way.

— He smiles the widest when you ask him if he wants to live with you, because of course he does. The idea of being a part of your life, being able to see you every day? He couldn’t imagine anything better than that. And when you drive it home that you want him to be safe, he gets a little teary. Reminding him that you care makes him smile like nothing else.

— He’s so happy when you help him around the little garden he grew outside your now shared home. He talks to the plants like they understand him and will melt if you do the same. Ralph loves that you’d try to participate in his hobby, even if you aren’t all that into gardening, he appreciates your help and your company. Buy him new plants as gifts, please!!! He accepts them so graciously and cradles the pot close like he’s made a new friend, murmuring to himself about where he wants to plant it.

— Compliment him! He flusters at any and all praise, shuffling in place and smiling ear to ear when you say nice things to him. Say thank you- or kiss him in thanks when he cooks for you or cleans up around the place, he loves the validation.

— Surprise hugs! Ralph is jumpy, but surprising him with hugs and affection is a good way to start making positive associations. He may gripe a little if he accidentally spills or knocks something over in his fright but if you go to pull away he grabs your arm, “Don’t go.” Once he’s grown used to your shenanigans doing this will make him laugh.

— You’re shocked to find that Ralph is ticklish, which is amazing to you, how technology is able to replicate such human sensations. So naturally you tickle him more. You’ll have him wheezing and writhing around in no time, begging half-heartedly for mercy. How could youuuuu. He absolutely will get revenge so watch out, he’s stronger than you so it’s harder to escape from his tickling onslaught. He laughs if you laugh so it’s a win-win.

— Kiss all over his face and he’ll burst into giggles.

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) captain Allen reacting to his s/o begging to cockwarm him

i had to look up what that even meant so bear with me if i misunderstood what urban dictionary told me 

also I went with HCs 🌚🌚🌚

Seguir leyendo

PAC: YOUR SEX LIFE WITH THEM (18+)

This is my old reading. Choose one in the image, don't worry about picking the same pile as you did in my old reading, who cares lol. Take your time. Look at each pile and choose the pile that you can’t stop looking at. For current partner and future spouse only, it doesn't work for crush, this is why.

Rules & Disclaimers

Below 18 are minors, I follow my country's legal age

Minors should not follow, read, interact, like, reblog, reply to my posts/asks.

Minors should not send me asks.

Minors do not interact it's il1egal.

If you interact with this blog/post, I will assume you are an adult and I will treat you like one.

Important:

People with more masculine energy are the masculine. People with more feminine energy are the feminine. This isn’t about gender, everyone has masculine-feminine in themselves, some people have one stronger than the other, some people are balanced.

PILE 1

Death Rx, King of Swords, 5 of Swords (7 of Wands)

Some of y’all like to have sex after arguments, or pretend arguments. 5 of Swords, come on. Maybe the tension and intellectual banters make it hotter? You both could be sitting there debating about some shit about the economy and 5 seconds later suddenly you got busy kissing and feeling each other up. You don’t have Wands on the table, most are Swords, but the bottom of the deck is 7 of Wands. There are passion and intensity but they are under this Swords façade.

There is push and pull, like a game, but boundaries is clear or you guys will talk about boundaries before you do any pushing and pulling. You guys discuss a lot about what you both want to do in the bedroom, you may also experiment a bit here and there. There could also be some role-playing. Role-play gives me more air element’s vibe than fire’s, because of the switching roles and personalities that happen in a role-play.

Death Rx just gives me the vibe of not being able to get over the sex. You guys might as well go at it until you can’t do it anymore, because 10 of Wands and The Magician Rx fell out. Both of you might also randomly remember about the sex that you had last night while at work, for example, and get turned on by it. Something with the mind; mind games, pretending you are not turned on when you are, etc. Edging, but mentally, if that makes sense lol.

Someone here likes to give orders, and the other loves to challenge that, so there is this tension about who will surrender. I think there is someone here who likes to challenge and to be dominated afterwards. And there might be some ‘punishments’ as well. The person with more masculine energy is probably the one who takes the authoritative role. There is dirty talking. This is an intellectual couple definitely.

PILE 2

Page of Pentacles, Wheel of Fortune, Page of Cups (Ace of Wands)

Both are physically attracted to each other. With two Pages here, either both of you are not that experienced when you first get together OR both of you actively want to learn more about your sexual connection; what your partner likes, how it makes them feel not only physically but emotionally. Pillow talks after sex; conversations that are full of emotions and love though. This doesn't feel like intellectual discussions, it could be for some of you but the focus here is on emotional connection regardless what topic y'all talk about.

One person in this connection might carry Virgo energy, there is something detailed about Page of Pentacles. So this person is more detailed about how they approach sex and is observant of their partner’s reactions. The kind of person who learns what makes their partner tick, and takes the time to explore their partner's body. The other person might be more in their water energy, I’m seeing shy laughter and people blushing. For example, one person would kiss the other person from the foot to the thigh while making eye contact, which would kinda tickle and make the other person feel shy? And then both of them would chuckle about it, before the humor simmered down and the touches and kisses continued again.

With Wheel of Fortune, I think y'all switch a lot (different person on the top) or try different positions. But it’s not quite dominance/submission thing. I’m getting more love than lust, to be honest, not to say that you guys are not lusty for each other, but your love is the thing that drives that lust or makes the sex satisfying, your emotional connection and love are imbued in your actions.

A lot of care, patience, gentleness and details. Soft touches and kisses, which can turn heavy, but will always be full of emotions. You guys take your time with each other.

PILE 3

Justice, 9 of Cups, The Emperor (King of Swords)

There is a lot of masculine and intense energy. It is coming from whoever holds the more masculine energy in this partnership. But before we go deeper into this, let’s talk about boundaries. With Justice and King of Swords, whatever you guys do, you guys make sure your boundaries are clear; it is a regular thing to talk about safe words, to discuss what you want to do, and to make sure the other person is okay with it before you do it, to discuss about it after the sex, etc. There is an open communication, you can speak up, you can state what you want/don’t want, etc which can lead to all of that good stuff.

Justice and 9 of Cups show that it is balanced; you take care of each other, you both feel satisfied, no one here is left alone having to bring themselves to climax. What you give, you get back. Whatever play you guys do, there is an exchange; what one person needs the other can provide, and vice versa. 9 of Cups is also a wish fulfillment, so whatever the partner wishes for, the other wants to fulfill; consensual tho. You guys may take sex quite seriously hence all the talking, because for some of you the sex can get really intense once it starts.

Yeah and about the domination. I know we have Justice 'The Balance' here, but with The Emperor and King of Swords (and the Tower and the Magician behind it), you got someone who is obviously dominant. So there might be some domination thing going on. Giving orders and dirty talking. Maybe dom/sub kink. Maybe manhandling, and a bit of force for some of you, heated sex. Hands clutching the other’s thighs, hands in the hair. Pining the other’s hands, using body weight to keep the other in place, one hand fingering the sex. Squeezing, pulling, touching all over the body. Leaving marks. Basically it feels as if one partner wants to stake a claim to the other person. Vocal; moaning, mewling, calling each other’s names, whatever it is.

There are after care, soft caressing and gentle adoration after sex. Whoever holds the dominant or masculine energy wants to take care of the partner, despite the domination thing. Very confident, every person in the cards are sitting facing forward. The connection is secure, and during sex you guys feel connected to the other person as if you both are one.

PILE 4

9 of Pentacles, The Moon, Knight of Swords (8 of Wands)

I think you guys have a lot of quickies. Perhaps due to work situation, you both just do it whenever and wherever. There is also a possibility that both of you can make the other get turned on quite fast. Many piles have dirty talking, but for this pile, I’m not sure how to explain it but there is force to the words. “You like that don’t you?” “You want my attention? I give you attention.” “Let’s see what that pretty mouth can do.” Pardon my pathetic examples but it’s like-- releasing frustration through words.

Nothing that goes against what you enjoy, because we have 9 of Pentacles which is a card of enjoying your harvest. But at the same time it feels like as if you both are dancing along the edge of something... taboo? There is also something that feels almost like servitude. You got two individualistic cards, so it is possible that sometimes although both people want the sex, on the surface it might seem as if the sex is for one person’s satisfaction i.e the dominant one (both will pretend that is the case). In reality, whoever takes the submissive role is actually very much cherished/spoiled by the other person.

I think long sex mostly happens at night, it is much much more emotional and heavy than the quickies. That feeling of wanting to get something out of the other’s soul, or as if you want to seep into the other’s skin. There is a desire to get to the bottom of it; to want to make the partner get so into the sex to the point of them losing all sense of time and direction, just completely bare. Someone here likes to leave hickeys. You might also have to heal something you have been suppressing. OR whatever secret kink you have, this connection brings (or will bring) that out to the surface, and you might need to admit that you like something dirty here.

With 9 of Pentacles, someone here enjoys wining and dining the other person (or being wined and dined) before diving into that mix of emotion and lust. It could also be that you guys enjoy masturbating; with each other, or when one person is masturbating the other person is watching. There might be food involved. Honey. Chocolate. Some drinks. Fruits. Someone here probably wants to try that kind of kiss where you got something in your mouth and you put it in the other’s mouth, idk the name lol.

PILE 5

The Fool, 9 of Cups, Queen of Wands (Knight of Cups)

So far, every pile has at least one Wands card lol. There is someone here, who is not usually dominant-- the more sex they have with the other person, the more they feel encouraged to be more secure and open about their sexuality. What I mean by ‘being open’ is that they learn to take control of the sex more, to express what they like more often-- becoming more and more confident of their body and their attractiveness as well.

There is attraction, of course. But whoever that person is, they might have been insecure about their own attractiveness, so the partner helps them come out of their shell. Whoever is more dominant initially, sometimes allows the other person to take from them; for example, they encourage that by moaning, thrusting when the partner is on top of them, etc. Which encourages and empowers the partner even more.

It is also possible that you guys have many rounds in one session lol. You guys might go for a second round after a brief rest, pillow talks and lighthearted jokes in bed. With The Fool, you both are open to try new things. There is nervous excitement every time you are about to try new things. You guys like to learn about what the other likes and will try to do that. Another pile also got 9 of Cups; this card is about wish fulfillment. There is this desire to fulfill the other, physically and emotionally. There is this desire to take care of each other as well. The love is very much present in the sex. You guys make sure that you both are satisfied and happy about it.

This suddenly came to me but you both might like to do it on the couch or a chair a lot, even if that idea isn’t appealing to you right now, when you are together it will be. I see a couch, or maybe the kitchen counter? You guys might use dildos. It is also possible that you or them like having sex with clothes on, I mean, the clothes are not completely off. Someone here likes it when their partner wears tights, or loose clothes; simply because the first just turns them on, and the latter just makes it easy for them to have access to the other’s body. If you are someone who likes to wear skirts or dresses, then your partner loves to slip their hand under your skirt. Or vice versa, it depends on who wears the loose clothing.

eddie is probably the needy one in the relationship. not wanting to let go of your hand for just five seconds. also prefers to be called ‘baby’ or ‘my love’ and nothing else. not even his name. you call him ‘eddie’ by accident, he’d drop everything, stop whatever it is he’s doing and turn to look at you with his brows tipping in then go ‘what the hell did you just call me?! eddie?! no no no. no eddie here, who the fuck is eddie?!’

PAC : 1ST KISS WITH YOUR FUTURE LOVE

PILE 1

First of all, let's start with some details I'm getting. Pile 1, this pile might be connected to Pile 2 in a way. Maybe, Pile 1 is you and Pile 2 is your future spouse. I'm getting really pure vibes from one of you. One is more shy and reserved and this could probably be their first kiss. The other one is so caring and thoughtful. They are paralyzed by the other person's beauty and sweetness and they are trying to create a calm environment for the other person to open up.

This is my pile that could be for a same sex relationship, particularly for two beautiful ladies out there.

Now, the KISS! I'm getting a very specific scenario. At first, you two are in a room or place with other people. This could be a house party, a wedding reception, a club or another "noisy" event. You will be friends or in the beginning stages of dating/courting. This person may even bring you in as their plus one and look forward to have you meeting their friends and family. On the other hand you are feeling a bit out of element.

This person will find you absolutely stunning. I'm seeing a guy holding out his hand for a girl with a beautiful dress and jewellery, looking like a princess. Even if you are two women, the same still applies.

Your person will understand that you're feeling uncomfortable and that you may need some time alone to recharge. A friend or family member might tell them to approach you more romantically. They will whisk you away and when you two are finally alone, talking alongside eachother or looking at the stars, they will take your hand in theirs, profess their love to you and touch your face/hair.

The kiss will be very tender and soft and I'm getting that you will both be nervous, especially this person, even if they look composed. As soon as they pull away they will be thinking about the day you two will get married, lol !

PILE 2

I'm seeing a clear distinction between a masculine and a feminine energy. The masculine is SMITTEN. They don't know how to act properly around the feminine. They appear calm, coll and collected but the way they touch and caress the feminine, says otherwise. On the other side, the feminine is completely unaware of the effect they have on the masculine. They've never met anyone as interested in them as the masculine and they are also a bit naive when it comes to love.

The masculine will be looking for an opportunity to pounce but it will take them a very long time until both them and the feminine are ready.

The feminine, unaware of their charm, will slightly touch the masculine on the chest or the arm and suddenly the floodgates will open. Every single emotion they held back is coming out full force and they are ready to risk it all.

The masculine may have a fascination with the feminine's hair and the way it falls down their back or they might enjoy touching and kissing the feminine's fingers, especially if the feminine wears rings or has tattoos on their hands. I'm also seeing a fascination with touching certain curves of the body, like the part where the head meets the neck and the small of the back. Little things like these set the masculine OFF.

PILE 3

Pile 3, you are last but not least. Your first kiss with this person will be quite euphoric. This relationship has been thorugh its ups and downs and when you finally reach the next level it will all be worth it.

Both you and your future lover are people who have not lived a passionate love story. One of you might be more daring and prone to taking action and they will try to bring the other's wild side out.

The first kiss will emulate just that. A push and pull moment, until the both of you decide to be vulnerable and just let go of rules and expectations.

Kissing will take you to another place, one where everything is possible. This person won't be afraid to show their love to you but you have to keep your heart and mind open when it comes to this connection.

Appearances can fool us and you never know what the heart is holding inside its gates. Take the chance and find out, or else you might miss out on a very big and passionate love story, one for the books.

Heyy, hope you're having a great day!

I just watched 'Animals' mv by maroon5 and was in my dark!Steve feels so...may I please request a serial killer dark!Steve stalking the reader, killing others & hiding it in his basement and seducing reader by acting like a nice golden boy 🙈👉👈

Thanks🖤

Title: Judge, Jury

Pairing: Serial Killer!Steve x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Everything he’s done, he’s done for you.

Warnings: descriptions of violence (non-graphic), dubcon, stalking, mentions of past sexual assault/rape and trauma, mentions of past child-abuse, manipulation, dubcon, unprotected sex, overstimulation, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, dead dove: do not eat for the love of god—

A/N: WHEW!!! so firstly, i loved this request, and i’m so sorry it took me so long to crank it out! this one’s clocking in at just under 9k words, so i hope it was worth the wait! i got OBSESSED with the idea of yandere!Steve trying to right all the wrongs in reader’s life, and, well… this is what came of it. PLEASE let me know if i’ve missed any warnings or tags! This is a work of FICTION, and it is Dark, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! MINORS, DNI!!! 😘

🩸

“Shhh. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” his voice is a whisper, barely audible underneath the clanging of the pipes, and the muffled whimpers making it through the gag. “You’re not asking anything new, you know.” he says, his eyes sad, almost sympathetic as he regards the middle aged woman cowering before him.

Her hands are tied to one of the rusty pipes behind her, and when she continues to whine, he grabs her face. “I said quiet.” she silences herself with a sniffle. “Thank you.” he leans away, resting his hands on his knees as he squats down. “You’re asking why you, right?” the knife in his hand moves easily between his fingers as he plays with it idly. “Why you’re here, what you did.” he cocks his head. “But you know what you did, don’t you Marilyn?”

Her eyes widen at the sound of her own name, and her struggles renew themselves. Steve presses the blade against her cheek, hard enough for blood to well along the blade. “You know what you did.” he looses the gag, knowing the moment he does the pleas will start. Steve doesn’t mind that so much—after all, he’s the one sending them to meet the God of their choice, he doesn’t mind acting as the priest to their confessor.

“P-please, I d-don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” she blubbers, and it makes the anger swell rapidly in his chest. He nicks her other cheek with the knife.

“Don’t lie to me, Marilyn.” he spits her name like a curse. “I know you remember.” He tilts her face up with the flat of the blade, wanting to see the recognition bloom in her eyes when he speaks your name. And it does. “You remember now?”

“I d-don’t, I d-d-didn’t—” she blubbers, and Steve knows by the guilty look on her face that she did, and she does. “P-please, Steve—”

“Oh, you remember me now, Mar?” he asks. “You remember how you took her from me?” he growls. “How you treated her?” he’s holding her throat now. “Foster home to foster home,” he growls, his grip tightening until she’s sputtering. “And every time she came home to you, the fucking men you never watched close enough? They got to her.” the curses slip from his lips unbidden, and Steve squeezes—and then regains control, releasing her. Marilyn coughs, and looks up at him fearfully.

“Please.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll jog your memory some more, we’ll remember it all together.”

🩸

The first time he sees you, he doesn’t really believe you’re the same girl he used to pick flowers for. You’ve grown up so much since he’s last seen you, and he knows you don’t recognize him either. He was so small then, so skinny and fragile, he knows you won’t reconcile that memory with the man who’s just happened to be at the coffee shop at exactly the same time as you for the past three weeks.

Or at least, that’s what he thinks.

“Steve?” your voice is tentative, questioning. His heart is pounding—you hadn’t noticed him before, your eyes glossing over him as though he was just part of the scenery. He’d been intending to come up to you soon, to re-introduce himself, but it seems like the wires have finally untangled, and you see the boy he used to be in the face of the man he is. “Steve, is that… is that you?”

He flicks his eyes up to yours, widening them in faux surprise. He says your name softly, slowly, like he’s drawing it up from the depths of his memories. You can’t know he’s been saying it every single day since you left, and thought of you just as often. “I can’t believe it’s you.” he says, allowing a small smile to grace his lips.

“I just moved back for work,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just, well I saw you, and I couldn’t believe it was you.” you gesture at him. “You’re huge!” you say, and he laughs. He doesn’t tell you that he had to get big, that he had to get strong—so he could find you. So he could protect you.

So he could hurt everyone who hurt you—and that was quite an extensive list.

“I couldn’t let Buck keep calling me punk forever,” he says, and pats the seat next to him. “Do you have a minute?” he asks, knowing that you do. It’s Tuesday—you always get a late start on Tuesdays.

“Totally.” the collar of your t-shirt slips down a little as you move to sit, and Steve sees the shiny flesh of your scar poking out from underneath it. He forces his face to remain neutral, but he can’t stop his fists from clenching angrily at the memory of it. You see his eyes dip, and your own follow their path, your hand coming up to lightly touch the skin before adjusting your shirt. “Still have it,” you joked, though your voice was strained, just a little.

Steve remembers that scar—and the man who gave it to you. His eyes go dark for a moment at the memory. I should have made her scream longer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay. Not like you weren’t there, right?” you shrug, as though unaffected—but Steve knows you. Knows you better than you know yourself—knows you won’t use a curling iron anymore, not after that. He hears the ice clink in your glass as you lift it to your lips, and his eyes follow the delicate movement of your throat as you swallow. “But enough about all that. How are you? I…wow.” you gesture at him again, that sweet smile back on your face.

He loves that smile.

“Well, I went into the service, but you already know that.” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in a show of nervousness. “That toughened me up pretty quick.” It was only when he came back to find you gone, and Marilyn’s next foster-paycheck already set up in your room that he regretted ever signing up. “And now I do security work.” your eyes light up with interest.

“Wow. Like a bodyguard? That’s really cool, Steve.” you punch his arm lightly, the way you used to when he was six inches shorter than you, and ten pounds lighter, like the years hadn’t separated you at all. “I told you you’d have a cool job one day.” your mirth sparks his own, and he laughs with you.

“What about you?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Well, you know I still paint,” you said, lifting up your hands. He could still see the paint staining the cuticles of your nails and the pads of your fingers. “But I’ve got a day-job at the Met, so not too shabby.” you reply, dusting off your shoulder jokingly as you giggle. “Sometimes they even let me see the art before it goes out to the exhibits.”

“And you said my job was cool.” his chest feels full to bursting, and he’s so happy he almost doesn’t remember how hollow he’s been without you. “I can’t believe it’s been eight years.” he wants to touch your hand, wants to feel your soft, warm skin under his palm, but he knows it’s too soon. It isn’t for him—he’s been thinking about this day for eight years—but it is for you. His hand twitches with the effort of not touching you, and you smile at him obliviously.

“Ditto. It feels like just last week I watched you get on that bus.” your coffee is long cold by now, but Steve can see you’re not thinking about that, you’re thinking about him, and it’s perfect because that’s all he wants. He grins at you, and makes a show of digging his wallet out of his jeans, holding up a finger. He opens it, and slides out the faded polaroid he’s kept there all these years. You gasp. “No way. You do not still have that.”

“Oh, I still have it.” he hands it to you, and watches your eyes get just a little glossy as your fingers trace the image gingerly. He’s seen the picture so many times, he doesn’t have to look at it to see it perfectly in his mind’s eye.

It’s you and Steve, in a cheesy photo booth at Coney Island, your cheeks blown out like a goldfish, and your eyes crossed as you make bunny ears behind Steve’s head. He hadn’t been ready for the picture, and the flash had caught him staring adoringly at you, his lips slightly parted. It was the same day he’d left—you’d dragged him on that long subway ride down to the beach, saying he needed good memories to take with him.

It’s his favorite picture.

You hand it back, your voice thick with the tears he knows you won’t shed. “I can’t believe you kept that.” you wipe at your eyes, before laughing. “That’s a shit picture of me.”

“It’s the best picture of you.”

You look as though you’re going to say something else, when your eyes stray to the clock behind his head. “Crap. I gotta go, I shouldn’t have stayed this long,” you lament, slapping your palm to your forehead. Steve wants you to stay, wants to spend all day with you like this, but he knows he can’t, not yet.  He’s been patient so long—he can wait just a little longer. He watches you dig your phone out of your pocket. “Give me your number so we can hang out again?” you ask, and he nods, tapping it in and saving it. You call his phone, waiting for it to ring and then ending it. “There, now you have mine too.”

You smile as you get up from the table, and Steve’s chest aches. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“It’ll be just like old times,” you say, waving at him as you head for the door.  It won’t be, though.

He won’t let it.

🩸

Steve loves the choked gasp of fear they always give when they wake to find themselves not at home. It’s always the same—people are so predictable, he knows that now. Paul peers up at him with the same terror that Marilyn did a month ago, and Steve relishes it.

He deserves to be afraid.

“I’m sorry you had to wake up like this,” Steve replies nonchalantly, because he really isn’t. “But I’m afraid this really couldn’t wait any longer. It’s already been years, so I figured it was time for you to pay the piper.” Paul was easy to track down, not like Marilyn, who moved three states over to continue her foster-mother racket. He’s stayed in exactly the same place, like he was just waiting for Steve to find him.

He says something, but it’s muffled by the gag. “Speak up.” Steve replies, tugging it down.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asks hoarsely, and Steve grins.

“That’s a good question, Paul. I want you to think.” he says, watching as the older man flinches uncomfortably as hot steam rattles the pipe he’s bound to. “I want you to think about what you did ten years ago.” his eyes widen, panicked.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m a good man, a good father—” Steve brings his heel down roughly on Paul’s knee, pressing hard until he hears a satisfying crack. Paul screams, his cries dying down to whimpers as Steve kneels in front of him. He’s brought props this time, purchased especially for Paul. He watches Paul’s eyes widen impossibly more and his chin begin to tremble as he removes the curling iron from its place on the table. “What—”

“Good men don’t do what you did, Paul.” he twirls the curling wand between his fingers. “Good men don’t do that to little girls.” he reaches behind Paul to plug in the iron, and then places it in his lap. “Good men don’t force themselves on teenage girls in the bathrooms of their own homes, Paul.”

“She wanted it—” Steve knows he’ll regret his lapse in control later, but he can’t stop his fist from connecting with Paul’s jaw, and he wonders how many bones he’ll break before he gets to the real punishment.

“She still has that scar.” Steve snarls, his hand tangling in Paul’s greasy hair as he forces him to look up at him. “Still fucking has it. Because you wouldn’t even let her unplug the goddamn thing.” Paul shifts uncomfortably, trying to dislodge the heating iron in his lap, but if Steve is good at anything it’s knots, and his struggles prove fruitless. Steam rises from his clothes, and then the smell of burnt cloth begins to permeate the room.

“Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything—” his pleas devolve into screams as Steve stands up, dusting his knees off. “PLEASE!” Steve ignores him as he heads for the stairs.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Let’s see if you’re more honest then.”

🩸

“Steve!” your voice soothing to his soul, like cool water on a hot day. He turns, schooling his expression into one of surprise. He turns, a smile already on his face. Seeing you in your work clothes makes his throat a little dry. You still looked like the young woman he remembered when you were wearing your casual clothes; shorts, a t-shirt—but in your form fitting pencil skirt, your blouse with just one button undone, and your hair swept into a knot on your head… It was making him think unsavory thoughts.

Like whether you would cry if he ripped the buttons on your blouse to palm the perfect tits he knew were underneath. Whether you’ll scream his name or sob it—he wants you to scream it. “You told me you worked at the museum, so I figured I should come take a look.” he replies with a bashful smile.

“Checking in on me, eh? Think I need a security detail?” you joke, and he nods.

“Of course. The pretty ones always do.” your eyes widen a bit at the compliment, and he watches you bite your lip the way you do when you’re embarrassed. “I was thinking maybe we could do some catching up when you got off?”

“Oh totally! I’m actually done here in like thirty minutes or so, if you don’t mind waiting…?” he watches you glance back at the info-desk worriedly, as though you’ll be penalized for leaving your post.

“Of course.” He’s so excited to see you, the time passes without him even feeling it. “Dinner?” Steve asks when he meets you back in the main lobby at closing time. “You must be hungry.”

“Starving, honestly.” you admit, holding your belly. “I didn’t get a lunch break today and I’m pretty sure my stomach has turned itself inside out.” Steve grins. “What about you?”

“Famished.” Most of the restaurants near the museum are fancy, with at least an hour wait for a table, something he already knows. “Why don’t we just hang out at my place? We could order takeout.” he suggests, knowing you still feel safe enough with him to go. The thought makes his chest clench, because it’s all he wants, all he’s ever wanted. Because he’s the only person you’re ever really safe with, the only one who can protect you.

“Okay, why not. Where d’you stay nowadays? I’m assuming you’re not staying in the ass end of Ridgeway anymore.” you say, laughing. It’s a joke, but it’s also a way of gathering information. He knows you want to know if he’s living close to the old neighborhood still, so you can steel yourself against the memories. Steve wishes he could take that pain from you—but it’s the one thing he can’t save you from.

So he just punishes the people that gave you the memories instead.

“No, no,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I’m in Bed-Stuy now.” he makes a show of checking his watch for the time. “There’s a good Thai place, and if we call now, it should be ready by the time we get there.” you grin at him, disbelief written plainly on your features. You can’t believe he still remembers your favorites.

“God, how do you still know me so well?” you ask, jiggling his arm playfully with your elbow as the both of you head for the train station.

“I never forgot you.” he says, watching your face contort as you try to reign in the surprise. He knows you don’t want to remember, but that you can’t forget either.

“I didn’t forget you, Steve.” you say softly, grabbing his hand. “You were the one who showed me I could… that I could leave.” he wants to shout that you should have waited for him, should have trusted that he would come back for you, that he was going to—but he doesn’t. He swallows the anger and the betrayal because he knows it isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stayed in that hellhole, not without him there to protect you.

You’re back now, and that’s what’s important. He squeezes your hand reassuringly. “I know you didn’t.”

The train is crowded, which he doesn’t mind, because it forces you to stand close to him, letting him inhale the scent of your skin, which is different and still oh-so-familiar. He’s reminded of all the train rides he’s taken with you prior to this moment, how they led him, inexorably to the now, where he’s standing in front of you, so close to finally having you the way he needs. The way he deserves.

They way you both deserve.

He was right, the food is ready by the time you arrive, and he insists on carrying it, ignoring your protests. His heart pounds as he leads you up the stairs. You’re trailing behind him, looking up at the large brownstone with no small amount of awe.

“You… rent?” you ask tentatively, and he shakes his head.

“One good thing about the army, I at least got paid enough not to have to worry about housing when I got back.” he knows you’re too sensitive, too fragile to know just what he did while he was gone—all the blood on his hands—but he’d do it again, and gladly. Because he needed to do it, needed to learn how to take a man apart with his hands so he could do it to protect you. He doesn’t mind, because it’s for you. So that you can be safe.

You kick your shoes off in the entryway, and Steve heads for the kitchen, putting the food down. You poke your head into the kitchen. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall, it’s the second…no, third door on your right.” Steve replies. It’s like a dream—you’re finally here, in his home. You’re finally back where you belong, and he’s…happy. For the first time in a long time. He’s known the pleasure of the hunt, the satisfaction of doing the right thing, but he hasn’t been happy. Not like this.

“Thanks. Smells amazing!” you reply when you return. You’ve opened up your blouse to reveal the tank top underneath, and he quickly admires the ripe, round curve of your breasts through it. God, he wants to touch—he won’t, he knows better, he can wait, he’s nothing if not patient—but he wants to. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can sit right there,” Steve replies, pointing to the seat across from his. “And you can watch me work.” he winks at you, and you laugh. I’ll never get tired of that sound. You curl and uncurl a lock of your hair around your finger. Steve dishes out the food, laying out the appetizers between you so you can share. “How’s work at the museum?”

“Good! I mean, it’s pretty boring, but good. I gave a couple of tours today, so that was fun, but the best part is honestly getting home to paint.” you reply. You sound like you’re admitting something, and there’s a flash of guilt in your eyes. Steve’s not sure why you feel it—you’re an artist, not a tour guide. You shrug, clacking your chopsticks together. “At least I make enough to live, you know. Inside the city.”

Steve is content to just… let you talk. He prods when it’s necessary, but you’re fine on your own. He’s already followed you back to your Alphabet City studio, sat on the fire escape while you slept and changed and painted.

He even knows what your face looks like when you cum.

In fact, that’s what he’s thinking about as you tell him about college. When he asks if you want some wine, he’s thinking about the way your toes curl and you keen like you’re crying. You bite your lip—the same as you do when you’re soaking that stupid plastic cock, a poor imitation if he’s ever seen one—and then nod.

“Why the hell not?”

He goes for the glasses, making sure to fill both of them up equally. You don’t know he can’t get drunk, you don’t know what they did to him to make him so big and strong for you, but that’s okay. You’ll feel safer if he drinks too, he knows that. So he does, pouring himself a refill every time he offers you one.

“And—hic—what about you?” you ask, covering your mouth cutely as you hiccough. “I’ve been rambling forever. Did you… did you like the army?” you ask, cocking your head sweetly at him from across the dinner table. Your eyes stray to the dog tags at his neck, and he pulls them out for you to see.

“It was hell at first,” he says, leaning in as though he’s making an admission of his own. “And… honestly, I’m surprised they even let me in. Maybe somebody saw how bad I wanted to protect the people I cared about.” he looks pointedly at you. You look away bashfully, but he knows his point is made.

“Is that why you went?” you ask a small smirk on your face as you waggle a finger at him. “Really?”

“I saw… I saw some horrible things while I was away.” Steve replies—and this, at least, is true. He volunteered for the experiments, volunteered for the missions, and he’s seen the worst in people. There are monsters, but the worst ones, he’s found, look just like everyone else. They smile, they go to work, they pay their taxes. “You have no idea.”

And then they go home and do unspeakable things.

The best thing he ever did was go into the army—because they gave him the power to fight them.

“I think you’re really brave, Steve.” you say after a moment, and he sighs, shaking his head. “No, you are.”

“More wine?” he asks, knowing your head has to be positively buzzing after the entire bottle. You shake your head, sighing.

“I probably shouldn’t. I’ve already had too much, and I still have to take the train,” you lament mournfully. Steve stops the slow grin from spreading across his face. “And I have to work tomorrow.” he makes a show of checking his watch, eyes widening.

“It’s already pretty late,” he says, shaking his head. “You could just stay here, I have a washer. I promise, no one will know the difference.” he winks at you, and you laugh. “Besides, I haven’t given you the tour yet.” you’re too drunk to question why he isn’t slurring, why his movements are so steady and sure as he clears the table. “I wouldn’t feel right letting you take the train all the way uptown by yourself.”

“I guess… I guess I could stay. It’s not like anyone’s waiting on me.” you shrug. “Lead the way.” Steve knows you won’t make it through even half of the house before you’re too drowsy to continue. He’s counting on it.

“Follow me.” you make it through the first floor easily, but by the time he’s leading you upstairs, your movements are sluggish, and even sloppier than before. You almost knock into the bannister, but Steve catches you. “Maybe we can do this another time, when we haven’t had a whole bottle of wine,” he chuckles, and you grin at him sheepishly.

“Usually I have a higher tolerance,” you mutter, leaning on him heavily. “Ugh, sorry.” he shakes his head at you, clucking his tongue.

“Don’t be. Let me get you a shirt to sleep in.” the thought of you wearing his clothes is enough to make his cock strain against his pants. “Let’s get you into bed.” he leads you not toward the guest bedroom, but his own, something he’s surprised you notice when he settles you on the edge of the bed.

“Steve, s’this your room? I don’t wanna put you out of your bed,” you whine, and he chuckles. You won’t.

“Shh, doll. I don’t have sheets on the other bed. This is fine.”

He tosses you an old t-shirt, and heads into the bathroom while you change. It’s only the illusion of privacy, but he watches with rapt attention through a crack in the door as you strip off your work clothes with clumsy fingers. He’s going to map every inch of your creamy skin with his fingers and tongue, going to know your body better than you know it.

So fuckin’ perfect.

🩸

It’s easier to stage the body than Steve thought it would be—Paul’s wife left him years before, and the sad little apartment he rents above the bodega on their old street is as good a place as any. Paul can’t just go missing, not like Marilyn. He’s an example, a gift.

And he has to make sure you see it.

He deposits Paul on the bathroom floor, dropping his body like a sack of grain. He leaves through the fire escape, and waits. That’s the hardest part, waiting. Steve is patient, he knows how to wait, but that doesn’t ease the agony, not until he flicks on the news almost a month later, grinning as his handiwork is finally recognized.

“The victim is an elderly man, Paul Mazzano, fifty eight, who was pronounced dead at the scene. Here, I have detective Ford to share some details.” The newscaster points the microphone towards a disgruntled looking cop with a handlebar mustache. Behind him, Steve watches people parade in and out of the apartment building, as onlookers murmur just off-frame.

“Uh, yes. Well. Neighbors reported a, um, a smell. And when the landlord investigated, he found Mr. Mazzano in the bathroom.” Steve knows they won’t describe the scene, not really. They won’t say that they found him draped over the sink, a hot curling iron pressed to his chest. “We have several leads on a suspect, but as of right now no one’s been taken into custody.”

They have no leads, of course, but he knows they can’t say that. He turns off the television, almost giddy. He doesn’t have to wait much longer for you to hear the news yourself, and when you call him, sniffling, he’s ready.

“S-Steve? I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know who else to call.” The two of you had been spending a fair amount of time together, and he’s pleased the fruits of his labor have paid off—it’s him you’ve called, not one of your other friends.

Him.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” he asks, knowing full well you’re not. He hears you take a deep breath.

“Somebody killed Paul.” your voice shakes as you speak. “And God, I don’t… I can’t… I don’t want to be alone. Can I come over?”

“Of course. Do you want me to pick you up?” he asks, and you sniffle.

“N-no. It’s alright, I’ll take the train.”

You only knock once before he’s at the door, tugging you into his arms as you sob. For a moment, Steve worries that you’re actually grieving as he helps you into the house. You’re still clinging to him when he seats both of you on the couch.

“It’s okay to be upset,” he says gently, stroking circles on your back as you cry. You look up at him with red-rimmed, watery eyes, and shake your head.

“I’m not sad,” you reply, roughly wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m…I’m angry. I’m angry someone got there first. Jesus, isn’t that fucked up?” you laugh tonelessly as even more tears threaten to fall, welling up as you look up at him. “I wish it had been me.” Steve’s never felt closer to you than in this moment.

“It’s not fucked up.” he never would have let you, doesn’t want you to live with the blood on your hands the way he does, but it makes something hungry unfurl in him to hear you say it. “He’s a piece of shit who deserved to die for what he did to you, and it’s not fucked up to want justice.”

“You know what’s fucked up?” you hiccup. “I never told anybody. I never said a goddamn thing. I should have. And I never did.” you’re sobbing again, and Steve holds you tightly, pulling you into his lap. You curl against him, pressing your face into his chest as you cry yourself dry. You’re so small and vulnerable in his arms, Steve almost wishes he could bring Paul back and do it all over again, just for making you suffer.

“Well, now he can’t hurt anyone else.” Steve replies firmly. “He’s gone.” you lay there, sniffling against his chest until your breathing evens. “You can stay here today. I don’t think you should be alone,” he says, and you chuckle.

“Alone’s my middle name,” you joke, wiping at your runny nose and puffy eyes. “God, I bet I look awful.” You’re trying to lighten the mood, to distract from the real, heavy feelings he knows you’re shouldering. He wishes again that he could take this from you, that he could hold it for you the way he holds the weight of the justice he knows no one other than him can dispense.

“You look beautiful. Like you always do.” Steve replies, making sure to let his hand linger on your thigh. You’re vulnerable right now, easy to manipulate. He doesn’t feel bad about it, no—you need him, you just don’t know how much.  You mumble in response, shaking your head.

“I look like I got stung in the face by a bee. Probably several.” you dismiss him with a wave of your hand, and before he can preach patience to himself again, he grabs it, his eyes hard. Your breath hitches at the contact.

“You don’t know how perfect you are,” he says tightly, like he’s trying to force you to understand it. “How good.” you’re practically straddling his lap now, your expression anxious and unsure.

“Good people don’t celebrate someone’s death,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“Then don’t be good.” Steve replies, and your eyes flash up to his. Your lip trembles. “Good people watched him hurt you. Good people ignored you, let you slip through the cracks.” he brings a hand to your cheek, and your eyes widen a little at the gesture. “Don’t be good.” he repeats it as he brushes a thumb across your bottom lip. Your tongue follows the motion, and you pull back suddenly, as if he’d struck you instead.

He’s worried he’s gone too far as you scramble off of his lap, your pulse thundering. You glance up at him with worried eyes, and he sees it for just an instant—desire. “Sorry, I just, um—bathroom.” you say lamely, shuffling awkwardly out of the living room and leaving him alone. You’re alone and adrift with only Steve to anchor you, and he knows you’re fighting hard against letting him be more than a friend. But you’d come to him for comfort when the news broke about Paul, you let him hold your hand—you’d slept in his bed.

You just need another push in the right direction.

Steve waits patiently for you to return, and when you do, your eyes are still red and puffy, but your face is clean and dry. “Sorry for barging in on you like this,” you say, scuffing your foot against the floor. “Shitty way to spend your day, listening to me blubber about the past.”

“Nonsense. You’re always welcome here,” he replies, dismissing you with a wave. You’ve always been overly concerned with others to the point of neglecting yourself, and Steve just wants you to feel as valued as you make everyone else feel. “Did you call out of work today?” he asks, feigning curiosity. You won’t be going, not in the state you’re in, but Steve knows it’s easier to convince than to command.

“N-no, not yet.” you reply sheepishly, rubbing your puffy eyes as you sit back down next to him, careful to put an extra few inches of space between you. Steve closes it by widening his legs, scooting closer under the guise of being interested in what you have to say. “I wasn’t… I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t, right? It would be stupid to call out because some guy who was shitty to me died.”

Steve feels the rage flare up inside him at your callous dismissal of your own trauma. He knows it’s what you’ve learned to do, to shrink yourself, to minimize. He won’t allow it. “Shitty to you? He raped you.” Steve knows you avoid using that word like the plague, and you reel back violently as he says it. Tears gather again in your already wet eyes, and your lip trembles. He clenches his fists against his thigh and sinks his teeth into his lip. “And I couldn’t do anything.”

He remembers what it was like to just… watch as all of the people in your life failed you over and over. Ignoring the signs, ignoring the bruises, ignoring everything, pretending it wasn’t happening. Steve remembers you climbing up his fire escape, still shaking, the burn mark fresh on your flesh.

He’s never forgotten it.

“It’s not your fault.” you place a tentative hand on his shoulder, and then rest your head against him instead. Steve’s heart is threatening to pound out of his chest. “We… we were just kids, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” he apologizes, shaking his head. “I just can’t… I can’t stand you being upset that he’s dead. Feeling bad that… you don’t feel bad.” he looks down at you, his gaze softening. “You’re too sweet for your own good.”

“Guess that means I should call out, then, huh?” you ask, and Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, I think so.” he knows you’re hurting now, that the scab on the wound of your childhood is open and bleeding. He hates that he had to do it, to make you see that he was your safety, your security, but you’re here now, so he knows it’s worked. “You hungry?” he asks, and you let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Why do you always take such good care of me, Steve?” you look up at him, doe eyed. “It’s… it’s like you never left.”

“Somebody’s got to, doll.” he drags his hand affectionately down your arm, reveling in the feel of your skin under his palm. “Somebody’s got to.”

He makes sure you call your boss to let him know you won’t be coming in, frowning at you sternly when you promise to make the hours up. You shouldn’t even be working at the museum, Steve thinks scathingly. It’s your work that should be gracing the walls. He watches you stow your phone before stretching across the couch, the hemline on your little shorts riding up to expose more of your smooth skin.

Steve’s so close to having you, so close to finally crossing the line between friends and more than friends, and he’s acutely aware of it as you recline next to him. “Maybe it’s dumb,” you say, looking up from the television to fix him with a nervous smile. “But I… I feel better being here.” you sound like you’re admitting something to him, like you’re confessing. “I always felt… safe with you. Even when we were little.”

Steve chuckles. “Even when you had to fight my bullies for me?” he asks, remembering trying to defend the two of you with nothing more than his skinny arms, his will, and a trash-can lid. You laugh too.

“Looks like you can beat up your own bullies now, though.” you patted his leg. “I don’t think you need me anymore.”

You have no idea, sweetheart. “Why wouldn’t I need you?” he asks, watching your eyes widen at his bluntness. You gape at him embarrassedly.

“I, well, I just meant—”

“I always needed you.” your whole body tenses at his words. The legs you’d platonically thrown over his own twitch as he places a heavy hand on your knee. “Even when I wasn’t here, I needed you.”

“Steve…”

“I thought about you every day over there, you know?” he says softly, focusing intently on the patterns his fingers are drawing on your skin. Neither of you are paying attention to the soft droning of the television anymore.

“You… you did?”

“Every day.” he repeats, his blue eyes resting heavily on yours. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asks, his brow furrowing. “I told you I was coming back for you.” a choked sound leaves your throat, and you try to withdraw your legs, but Steve holds them there, his eyes on yours.

“I… I didn’t…” you drag your hands down your face. “I didn’t think you really would.” you admit, hugging yourself as you look away. Anger makes him see red for a moment, and he snarls.

“I promised.”

“Steve, I was seventeen. I didn’t… no one had ever kept a promise to me before. And I didn’t—fuck, this is hard. I didn’t think I was worth keeping. I didn’t want you to come back for me because you deserved more than to come back to… this.” you gesture at yourself. “I’m all fucked up, Steve.” you give him a watery smile.

“I wanted to come back to you.” he doesn’t remember pulling you into his lap, but you’re there, your breath puffing across his cheeks as he cups your face. “All I fuckin’ wanted was to come back to you.”

Your mouth is softer than he thought it would be, your lips more yielding; Steve is positively drowning in you—and he doesn’t want to come up for air. He drinks the tentative sigh you release into his mouth, his hands traveling feverishly up and down your sides. You pull away, gasping.

“Steve, Steve w-we should stop—” he’s not listening, leaving a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your temple as he strokes your trembling thighs. “I—oh—!” his fingers skirt underneath the loose hem of your t-shirt, stroking the skin of your belly. The scent of you is addictive—he can smell the laundry detergent on your clothes, the lotion on your skin, but underneath it, his enhanced senses can pick up your true scent.

He runs his nose along your throat. “Smell so fuckin’ sweet, doll.” he can’t resist the urge to run his tongue along the same path, and your little hands fist in his shirt, tugging on it. “Still want me to stop?” he attaches his lips to your pulse point, his teeth worrying the flesh. Steve sits back to admire his handiwork, the purple and yellow bruise blooms like a flower on your skin.

“I…no,” you admit in a small voice, and that’s all it takes for him to drag your mouth back down to his. It feels like he’s dreaming—he’s dreamed this before, after all, so many times—but this is real, you’re really here and God he’s not fucking letting you go. He groans against your mouth at the first tentative grind of your hips.

“Waited so long,” he pants against your mouth, one hand finding it’s way to your back to undo your bra as the other steadies you on his lap. You’re mewling as he finds your nipple with his calloused fingers, twisting it. “Always loved you, you know that sweetheart?” Steve’s already hard, his cock throbbing  as he thinks of all the ways he finally gets to have you.

All his.

It’s a heady thought that makes him sink his teeth into the soft, supple skin at your collarbone, and you whine for him. It’s so delicious that he has to do it again. “Ow! That hurts, Steve!” you whimper, and he chuckles against your throat.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Got carried away.” it’s too much for now, he knows that, but eventually, Steve knows you’ll let him mark every inch of you. You’ll beg him for it. “God, just want you so bad.” he grips your hips harder, guiding you over the bulge in his pants. You moan softly at the pressure, and he looks up at you through his lashes. Your lips are parted, your eyes lidded. “Feel good?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good. You deserve to feel good.” his thumb finds the button on your shorts. “I want you to feel better, sweetheart. You’ll let me, right?” he asks, his thumbs drawing heavy circles on her hips. He can’t stop—indulgence after indulgence; you’re hell on his self-control. It’s strange, now that he has you, the desire is almost worse, because now he has to keep you, he can’t go back to watching. Can’t.

You look a little unsure, so Steve helps you along, slipping your t-shirt up to take your nipple into his mouth. You let out a strangled moan, and nod. “Y-yes, Steve.” the words have barely left your mouth when he pushes your back down to the cushions, pulling hungrily at your shorts. He remembers the sounds you made when he watched you, and he hopes you’ll make them now.

Maybe even better ones.

He exhales a sharp breath at the sight of the white lacy—racy—scrap of fabric adorning your hips, his nostrils flaring. All the times he’s dreamed of this moment, wished for it, he never pictured you wearing white. It’s fucking perfect. It’s in that moment that Steve knows he’s going to ruin you. Ruin you for anyone other than him. He tears frantically at the lace, and the elastic snaps against your skin. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says hurriedly before attaching his mouth to your drenched folds.

Heaven.

He knows he’s not going to see it—maybe ever—but this is as close as he’s likely to get. You whimper and shake above him, your hips undulating against his face as he laps at your core. Your thighs are trembling, soft sounds falling from your lips as he circles your clit with his tongue. He’s relentless, his fingers circling the tight, clenching entrance of your cunt longingly. Steve knows you didn’t wait for him—but you’re so tight and soft inside that he can almost pretend you did.

“Dreamed about this,” he murmurs against your thigh as he thrusts a thick finger into you. You hiss, your hips bucking.

“Y-you did?”

He curls his finger inside your pussy and a loud, broken moan tears from your throat. “Every fucking night.” Steve adds a second finger to the first, scissoring you slowly open. “They tried to bring women in for us, but fuck all I could think about was you.” a wet gush answers his words, and Steve’s other hand finds it’s way back up to your breasts, testing their weight and marveling at their softness. “How I was gonna ask you to be my girl when I got home, how I was gonna take care of you.” You’re bucking and moaning, and Steve steadies your hip with his hand, looking up at your face from between your thighs. “How I was gonna save you.”

He licks his lips. “But you didn’t need me to save you, did you?”

“Steve, Steve please, fuck, oh—“

“Not like you need me now.” Steve stretches you around his fingers, laving his tongue against your clit with a long, wet lick, and then you’re coming apart. You soak his chin and the couch cushions beneath you, that wail that he knows so well escapes your throat as you shudder against him. He stares at you in awe,  drunk on the taste of you as he watches you shaking from the pleasure he’s given you. “Say it. Say you need me.” your eyes are bleary and wet from your orgasm when they meet his, and his hands tighten on your hips. “Say it.”

“I-I need you, Steve,” you don’t sound sure, but that’s alright—he’s got you now, and he has time to make sure you know exactly what you need. The words make him groan, tearing at the button on his jeans as he eagerly frees his cock. He’s taking advantage of your grief, he knows it and he’s planned it that way, but you’re moaning and writhing underneath him just like he’s always wanted, so it’s more than worth it.

He’s not like the others, he’s not going to leave you, not now, not ever. Steve rips his shirt over his head, a growl escaping him at the sight of the slick mess at the apex of your thighs. Your scent is bearing down on him with the intensity of a speeding semi, and he has to have you, he can’t stop, not even if you wanted him to. He settles over you, caging your head in with his arms as he stares down into your eyes. Steve drags his lips across your own as the head of his cock slides wetly through the folds of your cunt.

“Ste-eve,” you whine, panting against his mouth. “Fuck, I need, I need—”

“I know, baby.” he sheathes himself inside of you in one glorious thrust, the wet noise of his entry ringing in his ears. He groans loudly, watching as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open. You’re so hot and wet and tight, he can’t not move. He knows he should give you time to adjust, time to get used to the sheer size of him, but his hips are pushing against you before he can grab for the reigns of his self control. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re squeezin’ me so good,” he pants, pulling out until your cunt is sucking hungrily at the head of his cock before slamming all the way back in.

Every time he bottoms out inside you, a hoarse sob falls from your lips, and he presses his forehead to yours, breath puffing across your sweaty face. “Look at me.” your eyes flick open, and he growls as they meet his. “Good girl.” he knows he worked you open with his fingers, but you’re still squeezing him so fucking tight, wetness seeping out of you and soaking his thighs with every thrust. “My good girl.”

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he lays into you. Your words have failed you, though Steve occasionally hears a please or even better, his own name among your pleasure addled babble. He rocks his hips into yours, peppering your face with lusty kisses.

“God, Steve, please, gonna cum, fuck!” you’re crying again, tears leaking down your hot cheeks. He licks their salty trails and groans, burying his face against your throat. “Fuck, fuck, fu-uck—”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it all to me.” your thighs dig into his sides as a keening cry leaves you, your back bowing up off of the couch cushions and pressing the softness of your breasts into his chest. You’re squeezing him so tight he almost can’t move, his cock trapped by the velvety wet walls of your cunt. He presses your thigh to your chest, opening you up deeper even as the aftershocks of cumming again roll through your body.

“Steve, Steve, Steve—” his name is on your lips like a prayer, and as his cock bottoms out inside you, he gasps.

“Taking me so good, sweetheart,” he leans back, mesmerized by the sight of your slick, puffy folds being spread open by the thick length of his cock. “Fuck, like this sweet pussy was made to fit my cock.” Steve knows he’s going to cum soon, and just the thought of finally filling you up is almost enough to make him bust as soon as it surfaces. He reaches between your bodies, his rough fingers rolling your clit between them.

“Ah! Fuck! Steve, Steve I can’t,” you’re sobbing hysterically, shaking your head and dragging your fingers down the sweaty, muscular planes of his chest. “I can’t again!” the sloppy, wet noise of your cunt is like music to him, and he groans. He knows you can, though, knows you can take it, knows you can give him one more before he lets himself follow you into sweet, blissful oblivion.

His touch is relentless. “Shh, pretty girl. One more. One more time, you can do it. It’s okay.” he’s not even really paying attention to the assurances that leave his lips as his head lolls back. God, he’d kill a million men just to do this.

Just to have you.

You scream as you cum again, and Steve feels his balls constrict as he falls over the edge immediately after. The slick evidence of your pleasure coats his cock and his thighs, and Steve holds you still as he empties himself into your pussy. He doesn’t release his hold on your hips until his cock stops jerking inside you, finally spent. You’re boneless as he pulls away from you, one leg tossed over the back of the couch, toes twitching. The sight of his cum dribbling down from the puffy, abused hole of your cunt makes his cock throb with the desire to repeat the activity.

Steve admires his handiwork, the bite marks littering your shoulders and throat, your messy hair, and the dazed, dreamy look in your eyes as you float slowly back to yourself. He kisses you again, and you wrap weak, trembling arms around his shoulders. He’s content to lay there with you reveling in the feel of your heartbeat under his ear. He’s reluctant to let you up when you wiggle impatiently underneath him, but he does, allowing you to scamper to the bathroom.

When you return, Steve sweeps you into his arms, carrying you up to the bedroom, where he deposits you, giggling, onto the silken sheets. “I’m not going to ask where you learned that,” you say, cuddling into his chest when he lays down beside you. His fingers trace shapes on your hips and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s me who should be asking that question,” he replies, grinning at you. His eyes flash as thoughts from earlier return to plague him. Not her first. He wasn’t angry about it then, but thinking of anyone seeing you the way he’s just seen you… it makes him want to rectify the situation as best he can. He can’t fault you, of course, it’s not your fault, but… “There aren’t any boyfriends I’ve got to worry about looking for me, right?” he jokes, though he knows there’s not anyone who could give him trouble, not really.

You scoff. “Please. The last relationship I had was like three years ago.” you wave off his concerns, and place a tentative kiss on the corner of his mouth. Steve returns it eagerly, but when he pulls away, there’s a darkness in his eyes that he can tell makes you nervous.

“Got a name for me, sweetheart?”

The end.

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