#steve kemp x dark!reader
Text
The Hills | Steve Kemp
Pairing | Steve Kemp x dark!reader
Warning | Explicit sexual content, 18+, smut, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, cyberstalking, hacking, gaslighting, dark web, black market harvesting, manipulation, mentions of canibalism, mentions of distributing of body parts, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, dark themes, Steve Kemp (he's a warning on his own!)
Summary | You discover Steve’s dark secret but you still admire him for it.
Word Count | 3163
A/N | Here’s the next part to Obsession, enjoy! ❤️ Beta’d by the amazing @lunarbuck, but all mistakes are my own. Banner & divider made by @vase-of-lilies. If y’all enjoy it, leave some feedback, comment and reblog. I’d really appreciate it!! 💗
Taglist: @superdcchick @hallecarey1 @dangertoozmanykids101 @jobean12-blog @buckysteveloki-me @happydelightfulstrawberry @lovehotch87
First chapter | Series Masterlist | Masterlist | My Ko-fi
‘I only call you when it’s half-past five. The only time that I’ll be by your side, I only love it when you touch me, not feel me. When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me. When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, yeah.’ - The Weeknd
A few days go by, and you can’t stop thinking about Steve. Between the back-and-forth texting, he is nice and funny, everything you could ever ask for. You’re absolutely smitten with him. Just as you pull your laptop onto your lap, you receive a text from Steve.
Hey, Angel. Want to meet up?
Yes, of course! Are you calling me ‘angel’ now?
Oh, yeah! Unless, you want me to stop… If that makes you uncomfortable.
No, no, please. Keep going, I like that!
Good, it’s a date! I will send you the address and time! I can’t wait to see you again! My angel.
He sends you the address that is located near the bookshop where you first met him, and it’s not far from your place. You decide to walk the distance there, which is just a few blocks away.
You walk into a warm and cozy cafe. The smell of coffee roams around the acoustic atmosphere of the place. It’s lovely. As you look through the crowd of people, you lock your eyes on Steve again. A smile spreads across your face.
“Hey there, handsome.” You approach the booth where he’s sitting. He stands up and greets you with a hug. “Hey, Angel.”
He’s wearing a soft brown sweater with black pants to complete the look. You wrap your arms around his body as you slide closer to him. His large hands touch your back while he pulls you into his embrace. The scent of his cologne infiltrates your nostrils as you smell his strong scent, a mix of a dewy scent of sage and bergamot. You never want to let him go, not ever.
“You smell nice.” You voice out when you sadly pull away from him.
“Thank you, Angel. You’re so delightful, and you look beautiful as ever.” He compliments as he takes another look at you, roaming his eyes on your body. “Magnificent.”
Steve is utterly fixated on you. He can’t believe that he has found someone as heavenly as you are. Ethereal yet tangible, wholesome yet sinful to his desires. He only wants more of you with each passing second, he wants to know what you feel like wrapped around him as he rampantly thrusts into you. Fire arises when you look at him, as if you can see right through him. He can’t wait to take a bite out of you.
“You flatter me, Steve.” You reply to him, when you avert your eyes back to Steve, becoming aware of his intense gaze on you. Your eyes connect together, and you feel a spark igniting in your gut.
“It’s the truth.” He states as his stare lingers on. You couldn’t look away from him, afraid to lose this sense of coming home.
“Uhh, let’s sit down.” He takes your hand and maneuvers you into the booth. He takes his place with you sitting next to him.
“So, here come the awkward questions,” he declares while he laughs a bit.
You tell Steve some basic information about yourself as he listens intently. You don’t want to reveal everything about yourself to him as you feel apprehensive about opening up, so you improvise a generic white lie.
I won’t tell him about my job and about my hacking skills. Maybe I can do more damage and use it to my advantage.
You tell him a different job occupation and he nods notably.
A waiter comes to your booth to take your orders and leaves quickly, hurrying to the next customer. Several minutes later, another waiter comes with your orders.
“So, what brings you to town, Steve?” You ask him as you tilt your head curiously.
“My second residency.”
“Nice. I can imagine many women would line up just to get a procedure done by you.”
“Not that many, if I’m being honest. Most women that come to me want to change their physique. You have the occasional boob job, tummy tucks.” He plucks a red cherry out of the cup and pops it in his mouth.
“And butt lifts.” You finish for him with a smile.
“Yeah, that too,” He chuckles knowingly.
“Do you have any social media, perhaps?” You ask him as you take your phone out of your bag to search him online.
“I don’t have any.” He shakes his head immediately.
Hmm, strange.
“Instagram?” You question, persisting on answers as you move closer to him.
“I don’t feel like sharing things about my private life.”
“Okay, that’s valid.”
“What about Twitter?” You continue the questions as you bring your body forward to him and lean your head against your hand for support. He takes a few sips from his drink, taking his time to answer.
“No. Does anyone have anything smart to say on Twitter? No way.”
“How am I able to contact you more easily? If not via social media, and only texting?”
“I don’t know, you can always send me a letter the old-fashioned way,” he suggests jokingly, as you laugh at his witty comment. He looks up at you, and something mischievous glimmers through his eyes while he smiles at you.
“What?” You ask him when he keeps staring at you, taking a glimpse at your mouth.
“You have such a beautiful smile.”
“Thank you, Steve. You’re so kind.”
The afternoon progresses to evening, and you and Steve lose track of time. When Steve goes to the toilet, you decide to peek into his wallet that he left behind. His ID card presents a different identity than what he alluded to. His actual name is Brendan Steven Kemp.
Huh. Should keep that in mind. What secrets are you hiding, Steve? No social media? Come on now, what doctor doesn’t have a social media of their own?
Before he comes back, you take a picture of his ID card from both sides for later search purposes and neatly put it back into his wallet. Between laughter and regular flirting, you both seem to be in a trance-like state, together in your own little bubble. The tension builds up between you and him; it’s undeniable. As soon as you two walk out of the cafe and walk the short distance to your apartment, the attraction is palpable.
“Fuck this.” You approach him and close the space between you and him. You grab his face and crush your lips onto his with a passionate fire.
Steve immediately reciprocates and kisses you back. His mind races due to his own duality for you. He must have you. You moan when you feel his tongue sliding into your mouth, clashing onto yours with wild abandon. Steve is enticed by you while he roams his hands all over your body, like a madman. Overwhelming and hot. When you open your apartment door, you both storm through it. When your back hits against the wall of the tiny hallway, you start to pull your jacket off, and let it fall to the floor.
He pulls away slightly to catch his breath and looks at you through gentle eyes while cradling the sides of your face. “Maybe we’re going too fast.”
Oh. That’s the first time. Why is that?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush into it, we can slow down if you like.” You start to back away from the wall when Steve moves away from you, contemplating on what to do. You pick your jacket from the floor and neatly hang it to the coathanger.
“Uhh, do you want something to drink?” You ask him as you go further into your living room, going towards the kitchen. Steve runs a hand through his hair before scratching his forehead with his thumb as he watches you intently and doesn’t respond. He looks away for a second before you continue.
“Or eat?” He looks straight at you with a wild look again, as if he changed his mind again.
Steve can’t let you go, no matter what. To him, you feel like a necessity, a longing that he hasn’t felt in ages, similar to the longing that he only has when he eats his type of meat. It’s inexplicable and indescribable. You’re the quintessential person of his desires. He lets himself fall on your couch when he sighs and directs his gaze to you again, almost pleading and hopeful.
“Just you, Angel.” He gets out of the couch and makes a beeline straight toward you, grabs your face, and pulls you into him, pressing his lips hard against yours. Your breath catches in your throat while you place your hands on his head. A whimper slips past your lips as you’re unable to resist your longing for him.
You greedily touch Steve’s body wherever you can as you guide him to your bedroom. Every touch makes you crave him more, your thoughts whirl around in your mind at a rapid pace. He groans and moves the hand to cup the back of your neck and deepens the kiss, spearing his tongue in your mouth. Your nipples harden and your pussy clenches the longer Steve kisses you. You lay on your bed and start to undress all of your clothes quickly while Steve does the same, staring at you with a hefty and lewd gaze glimmering through his eyes.
He climbs on top of you as he hovers his body over you while he stares passionately; his cerulean eyes growing darker by the second. He can’t believe your beauty, a stunning sight before his own eyes as if you’re a celestial being. He slowly moves his head down and starts to kiss you deeply again.
“I want you, my love,” he muses out hoarsely. He’s breathing just as harshly as you are.
“I’ve wanted you for days. Ohh!” You exclaim when Steve cups your breasts in his hands and molds your flesh before he pinches and plucks at your nipples, sending shivers up your spine.
“Hmm, you’re so responsive to me. Good girl.” He utters out seductively. He takes one of your breasts to his mouth and laps at your nipple with his tongue while flicking the other with his hand.
“Oh, fuck!” You announce as you close your eyes at the way Steve’s salacious tongue swirls around your sensitive nipple. He hums with how your soft skin feels to him, savoring every inch of you; his hands making their way to your aching core.
“Let me worship you, angel. I need to taste you now.” He rasps out, with urgency in his voice. He makes his way down while he gently bites into your skin, leaving red marks on the surface. He sets himself between your thighs and bites into each of them.
“Oh, fuck Steve!” You moan as your face contorts with pleasure as he suddenly shoves his face right onto your heat.
“I’m going to ravish you until you’re not able to utter a single word.” His dark cerulean eyes pierce through you as he hums. “And you’re going to be mine.” The feeling of his tongue going through your slit makes your back arch from the bed, and you moan out his name.
“Please, Steve! I– I’ll do anything!” You plead through jagged breaths while he deliciously defiles you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you firmly into place. He gives you long strokes, capturing every bit of essence you have. He sucks and laps your wet slick up with his mouth as if it’s the last drop of water he’ll ever drink in his life. He’s enticed by your taste, and he can’t wait until his cock is deep inside of you.
“Aahh! Steve!” You wail as you grasp a handful of his luscious hair and pull it. He groans, sending surges of lightning over your body. Your hips buck up as your body quiver underneath him, taking in all the bliss until you feel one of his fingers prodding into you, seeking entrance to your wet and aching pussy.
“Oh fuck!!” You exclaim as you arch your back from the bed while you hear the muffled groans of Steve underneath you. In one swift motion, he delves two fingers into your slit. A coat of your slick envelops his fingers as Steve licks ferociously on your clit.
“Come for me.” His sultry demand comes out low and husky as if he’s trying to contain his never-ending lust for you.
Your hips buck as your head falls onto the pillow from beneath you, when your eyes roll back into their sockets. You feel yourself come undone for him as your walls squeeze around Steve’s digits.
“Aaaahh, Steve!!”
“Good. Good girl.” He ushers to your cunt as his strokes lightly decrease. He licks your wetness up with his tongue, and he hums out delicately.
“Hmm, you’re so exquisite.”
“T–thank you, Steve.”
Your chest heaves heavily up as you gradually catch up your breath. He picks up your body tenderly and lays you gently next to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. You still feel his erection against the lobes of your ass.
You turn your head in his direction with a questioning look.
“Huh, and what about you?” You look at him, confused yet still dazed from your ravenous orgasm.
“Shh, sh, don’t worry about me, I just want to be close to you, skin-to-skin contact. This night was about your pleasure, not mine,” He simply answers. “Go to sleep, my Angel. You deserve to be well rested.”
Your eyes begin to feel heavy as the dim night light protrudes from the curtain of your window. You lift your arm and wrap it around his chest, pulling yourself more into his embrace.
“Okay, Steve.” You softly accept his demand as your mind dwindles away from any worries. Steve sighs peacefully in return.
“Goodnight, Steve.”
“Goodnight, my Angel.” It’s the last thing you hear before your eyes drift to a close, and you fall into a deep slumber.
The next day stumbles in slowly, with the sunlight peeking through the curtain. Rays of sunshine fall upon your face, enveloping you in warmth. Your eyes open slowly, and you’re in Steve’s arms. He’s still sleeping peacefully when suddenly an alarm starts to go off. Steve opens his eyes rapidly and checks the clock, he hurriedly gets out of bed.
“Oh, fuck. I totally forgot the time,” He says when he starts to dress up in his pants again before taking his shirt off the ground. “My shift at the hospital starts in thirty minutes.”
“Oh, what hospital do you work at?” You ask innocently.
“St. John’s Hospital,” He answers while he pulls his shirt over his head. “My first procedure starts in an hour. A patient is going to be very happy with their boob job.” He continues.
“Well, they’re in good hands with you.” You affirm encouragingly. You hoist yourself up from the bed in a sitting position.
“Why, thank you. I'll see you tonight, Angel.” He takes your hand in his and kisses the top of your hand gently.
“That’s alright, have a good day at work, handsome.”
“I’ll be thinking of you,” He softly intones when he’s all fully dressed and gathering all his belongings. “See you later, Angel.” And with that, he leaves through your apartment door.
You squeal cheerily as you start your daily morning routine. Once you’re dressed and finished eating, you think you should do research on ‘Steve’. You want to know everything about him, so naturally, you take up your laptop and place it on your island and decide to do a simple search on Google. The only results that come up are from his reconstructive surgery website and a few articles that he wrote but there’s something else too, another result, a woman named Ann Kemp.
Out of curiosity, you click on the link. And it redirects you to a Facebook page of a blonde-haired woman with a picture of her family standing in front of a house. And there he is, Steve, standing and smiling with his family. He has a wife and a dog. Ann is holding the dog on a leash. You can’t help but to take another look at the woman, there’s something off about her, but you can’t exactly pinpoint it. You zoom in on her, looking at her hand, and you notice she’s wearing a wedding ring on her left hand.
You should have known that he was married. He’s too good to be true. You take a different approach with your searching. Since you're a talented hacker, you know your way around technology and the mechanics of it. You pull up a more advanced browser that can search literally anything related or attached to that specific name, word or thing. The general public would know that browser and use it to go on the Dark Web. You have a program installed, so your IP address isn’t trackable. You remember having a picture of his ID with his real name on your phone. So, you take your phone out and look into it and you type in his name ‘Brendan Steven Kemp’. Up come a thousand search results from the normal search results of ‘reconstructive doctor' to a much sinister, more disturbing and shocking result.
There’s a business. The logo contains a white background, and a red logo of a head of a goat with a snake eating itself around it is displayed. You click on the logo, and it redirects you to a website. To your horror, you come to find that Steve practices in the most inhuman activities ever done. He harvests human meat and sells them on the dark web. And here you are, looking at his webshop. The various ‘products’ are listed by mainly female names. There’s a hand that goes by ‘Hope’, and the description is ever so horribly detailed as if it is a delicacy. With a price tag of thirteen thousand dollars!!
I knew it!! You have a wife!! I have to get out her of the picture, though. I can’t have her orbiting around you like some lost puppy dog. I can’t have that, Steve. There’s also something wrong with her, and how did you meet her anyway? Let me guess, you probably kidnapped her too, and she got Stockholm syndrome as a result.
You immediately go to work with it and pick through his encrypted layers of codes, and when you finally reach the barrier, you unlock the access. With ease, you gain access to his illicit webshop. With another set of difficult codes you shut off his website, and everything turns black.
So, that’s why you’re so private, Steve. You have a wife and are a cannibal. Being able to kidnap dozens of women, probably mutilate them, so as to keep them alive until there’s nothing left, consume them, and ultimately kill them to sell them. And I thought so highly of you. Are you going to do the same to me? Only one way to find out, I guess.
#thebluemage writes#thebluemage writings#mage writes#mage writings#steve kemp#steve kemp x dark!reader#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x female reader#steve kemp x you#steve kemp x y/n#steve kemp fanfiction#brendan steven kemp#brendan steven kemp x dark!reader#brendan steven kemp x reader#brendan steven kemp fanfiction#obsession#obsession au#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan x y/n#sebastian stan fanfiction#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#fanfiction
395 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙠𝙚𝙢𝙥
masterlist | s.s characters masterlist
WARNING: These fic may contain disturbing content so please read all the warnings before you proceed. I mean…it’s Steve Kemp we’re talking about.
ONESHOT
I’m By Your Side by @thebluemage
Steve takes care of you, while you’re sick.
Marking What’s His by @thebluemage
Steve doesn’t like it when another man touches you, and he shows you what happens.
sugar pie, honey bunch by @charnelhouse
He knew she would be different. He’d known it the second he saw her.
needs by @heavysoldat
with your period worse than ever, you’re left almost bed-ridden in nothing but his clothes. and when you’re sat there, looking so pretty, steve can’t deny himself. a man has needs, after all.
Honey, Dinner’s Ready by @mavsstar
You’ve never been bad, always a good girl. One day a certain someone comes in the picture and you snap.
Opposite Reflection by @/mavsstar
Your love for Steve Kemp runs deep. You say it’s you being a hopeless romantic but what does he have to say about it?
A New Appetite by @bxcketbarnes
Fresh Meat by @bxcketbarnes
red flags and long nights by @buckycuddlebuddy
spending three months with a stranger whom you shared a house with apparently was not enough to know them. apparently it led you to ignore a lot of warnings that you should have seen before, but it was too late.
Stockholm Syndrome and it’s Side Effects by @sstan-hoe
steve gives you stockholm syndrome and well let's just say; you gotta make sure you're his only one...
Restless Heart by @shamevillain
Part of loving somebody means accepting their flaws. And loving yourself means coming to terms with your own, no matter how fucked up they may be.
my beautiful odette by @onceuponastory
After seeing a performance of the Swan Lake ballet, Steve Kemp develops an obsession with the lead dancer Y/N, and decides that she has to be his. Whatever it takes.
gut feeling by @onceuponastory
After a young woman goes missing, Detective Y/N interviews one of the last people to see her alive...Plastic Surgeon Steve Kemp.
just like you by @imyourbratzdoll
steve becomes obsessed with you, and because he's too blinded by your beauty, he doesn't know you are just like him, maybe even better.
unusual dish by @lokiskitten
in order to survive your kidnapper sick and murderous tendencies, you agree to submit to one of his offers : feast on human meat whilst allowing him to watch. Though things take an unexpectedly inappropriate turn.
Fettered Attachment by @wh0reforoldmen
Being Steve’s captive is one thing- but falling for him is another.
Yours Forever by @antisocialwritingx
Steve decided to leave his wife and kids for the one victim he chose to keep for himself, you. It turns out that you both have a loving relationship after a little work put in from Steve.
just a taste by @jessybarnes
face riding.
heads will roll by @sgt-seabass
A visit to the doctors takes a turn you didn't expect.
can you read my fears? by @dollsplat
It’s No Good by @theimpossibleg1rl
You hadn’t meant to fall for him. But then again, Steve hadn’t meant to fall for you either.
You didn’t need that, did you? by @highonmarvel
You meet a man at the bar who loves your thighs.
Honest by @highonmarvel
Steve’s never lied to you.
SERIES
toxic by @extremelyblackandwhite
steve kemp has found his match.
A Well Respected Man by @sableseb
#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp#steve kemp x y/n#steve kemp x you#steve kemp x dark!reader#steve kemp fic rec#steve kemp smut#steve kemp imagine#steve kemp oneshot#steve kemp series#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan x y/n#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan oneshot#sebastian stan series#dark!steve kemp#fresh
191 notes
·
View notes
Note
Steve bringing over some fresh meat (wink wink) for reader, so she can feed her basement husband Robert🥰
Hehehe silly thang.
I'm weirdly only getting a small opening blurb for this so this is what we're going with!
With the sun finally dipping below the horizon, the sterile house around you seemed to soften. The warm lights that you had picked out were much more inviting than the blinding white lights Steve originally installed.
You're such a surgeon, it kills me, you teased.
Oh, don't tease, sweetheart, only I get to kill you, he cooed.
Humming a soft tune, you began to gather what you needed. Cutting boards, pots, pans, spoons, knives— all were neatly tucked away in the kitchen, your kitchen now. Steve would be home soon, so you might as well get as much prep done as you could before he arrived. You hated when your counter tops were too cluttered.
The rhythmic slices of onions, garlic, and potatoes always soothed you, it put you in just the right state of mind, one that you can relax and let loose in. The sound of Steve's car pulling in the drive stole you away from your little bubble, the organized bowls of ingredients neatly set in front of you made you smile. Man, time does fly when you're having fun.
You hear Steve's voice, no doubt charming another woman, or man, or whomever was unfortunate enough to be taken in by your husband. He was a flirt, unbearably smooth-talking. He could charm the bees out of the hive if he wanted to. You told him he'd make a damn good politician, but he scrunched his nose and chuckled 'they give too many speeches.'
You're busy sharpening your knife as he rounds the corner, some pretty little thing following blindly behind him like some poor puppy. Her bashful smile at whatever he said is quickly lost the moment she sees you.
"O-Oh," she squeaks, frozen in her spot as she watches Steve round the counter top, making his way over to give you a loving peck. "I-Im sorry, I didn't kno–"
"It's alright, darling," you soothe her with a gentle smile, she relaxed ever so slightly at your calming voice, just as you wanted. You quickly drink in her form: supple flesh, rounded cheeks, glowing skin— oh, she's perfect. Bobby'll like her, you thought. "Steve told me he invited you over for dinner. Are you hungry?"
"Starving," she nodded.
"Good," you grinned, "so are we."
#murderer monday#romantic murderer monday#murderer monday drabble fest#steve kemp#steve kemp x y/n#steve kemp x you#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x fem!reader#steve kemp x fem reader#steve kemp x female!reader#steve kemp x female reader#steve kemp x gn!reader#steve kemp x gn reader#steve kemp x gender neutral reader#fresh 2022#steve kemp apologist club#dark reader#steve kemp x dark!reader#little lion literature
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stardust Reblog Challenge - December
Hello, lovelies! Below are fics I've shared throughout the month of December and will feature Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans characters (for now). Show these writers some love and please heed any warnings provided. Enjoy and check out the Stardust Reblog Challenge put together by @natrace. Moodboard by yours truly and divider by @firefly-graphics.
12/1 - Come Around Sundown (DBF!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader) by @cockslutpadalecki
Into the Sunset (DBF!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader) by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming
Disarmed (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky
12/2 - Sour Holidays (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @nekoannie-chan
12/3 - Relentless (Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @speechlessxx
12/4 - The Fairest Sun (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @rodrikstark
12/5 - Break the Back (Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader) by @indyluckycharlie
12/6 - Happy Accident (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @thenhewaswrongaboutme
12/7 - Hunting Lodge (DBF!Curtis Everett x Reader) by @onsunnyside
12/8 - You Call it Love But All I'm Left with is This Pain (Lloyd Hansen x Reader) by @mellowsaturns
12/9 - Ride With Me (Biker!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming
Cloaked (Vampire!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @labella420
12/10 - Need You Now (Nomad Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader) by @late-to-the-party-81
12/11 - Overheated (Dark Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader) by @sgt-seabass
12/12 - Forget Me Not (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @sweetascanbee
12/13 - Fists and Feelings (Boxer!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @writing-for-marvel
12/14 - Hearts Beat as One (Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @doasyoudesireandlive
12/15 - Goodbye (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork
12/16 - Obsession (Steve Kemp x Dark!Reader) by @thebluemage
The Magic Box (Dark!Terry the Terrific x Reader) by @rustytricycle
12/17 - Missionary with Steve (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @becca-e-barnes
12/18 - A House, A Home (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @rookthorne
12/19 - Fluky Jakey Loser Lucky (Jake Jensen x Reader) by @madscape
Law (Sheriff!Lloyd Hansen x Reader) by @boxofbonesfic
12/20 - It's Fun Being Bad (College!Andy Barber x Reader) by @sunshinebuckybarnes
12/21 - Flirt With Me (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @moonlight-prose
12/22 - Glacial With the Blue Ice, I'm Terrifying (Lloyd Hansen x Asian!Reader) by @honeystevie
12/23 - Taste of a Sweeter Life (Hal Carter x Reader) by @the-iceni-bitch
Friday Nights (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @lilacletter
12/24 - Love is Actually, All Around (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @rookthorne
12/25 - Secret Santa (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @buckybarnesandmarvel
12/26 - Coercion (Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @ramp-it-up
12/27 - Pillow Fort and Pizza (Jake Jensen x Reader) by @foxgloveprincess
12/28 - Making Up for Lost Time (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @sweetdreamsbuck
12/29 - Jealous (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @sweetascanbee
12/30 - A Knight in Rusted Armor (Dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader) by @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy
12/31 - Poison on Your Tongue (Vampire!Random Drysdale x Reader) by @inklore
#navy's fic recs#stardust reblog challenge#fic recs#writer recs#dbf!steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#dark!steve rogers x reader#curtis everett x reader#dbf!curtis everett x reader#lloyd hansen x reader#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x dark!reader#terry the terrific x reader#dark!terry the terrific x reader#jake jensen x reader#andy barber x reader#hal carter x reader#ransom drysdale x reader#lee bodecker x reader#dark!lee bodecker x reader
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
YOU
—Art Collector!Steve Kemp x F!Reader
Summary — Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.
Warnings — oral (female receiving), dismembered bodies, disrespect to the dead, entrapment, plots of killing, serial killer vibes, Steve being a calm psycho. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.
Word Count — 5.4K
A/N — Story #1 for my FREAKtober Fest. The fic was heavily inspired by the movie itself and House of Wax. I'm happy to finally explore Steve's character in writing and I must say, I enjoyed every bit of it. The title was taken from the song You.
Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp
Shout out to @vellicore and @sgt-seabass for bouncing ideas with me and being my beta.
As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️
They didn’t come.
It was all you could think about as almost 2 hours had passed since your grad show started. Despite your parents’ — mostly your mom’s — disapproval of pursuing an arts program, you still invited them to the show. You hoped that if they saw what you were truly doing, they would understand your passion for paints and charcoal.
But it was a long shot, and you knew that. Though at least you tried…right?
You envy your classmates who carry bouquets while they present their artwork to their families and strangers alike. You were lucky enough to have a few come by your cubicle, delighted to explain the medium and process of your work. Some seemed genuinely intrigued while others, you can tell, only came by and endured your talk for the free stickers you offered at the end of your spiels.
Another hour passes by and you look up front when you hear an announcement being made by your instructor; a class photo. You’re reluctant to join, seeing no value in such a thing to be done as it’s obvious that once the day ends, they will be strangers once again. But another adamant call from your instructor has you heading to the front, a frown forming on your face when you’re pushed at the back, towered by your classmates—unseen once more.
As parents and several others grab the opportunity to take a photo, your eyes suddenly divert back to your cubicle when you see someone looking over at your main art piece. You can’t put a pin on his face but you know you’ve seen him before.
Once the group photo has ended, you immediately head back to your spot, catching the familiar stranger taking one of your stickers as well as a business card that sits beside it. It’s when you finally recognize him—and you’re in utter shock that he would be looking at your work. He finally notices you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand.
“Hi.” He begins, “I’m—”
“You’re Steve Kemp.” You finish for him, the confidence you suddenly displayed startling the both of you. But you push on when you see a smile of amusement on his face, taking his hand to shake. “You’re the famous art collector.” You wouldn’t have known it was him with how dressed down he looked with the corduroy jacket and navy jeans, but you’ve seen his face several times in art articles that you wouldn’t miss it.
“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.” He humbles himself but he lacks the conviction to make it believable. “I think I’m just skilled in finding pretty things—like this one.” He gestures towards your charcoal painting, the look of interest evident on his face. “What compelled you to incorporate a whale and an astronaut? What’s the story behind it?”
His question makes you smile. Maybe he is interested, you think to yourself and look towards your artwork before diving deep into your answer.
“The artwork was inspired by the 52 Hertz Whale.” You begin. “Just to give you a little background; out of all the whale species, it’s the only one that makes a call with such a distinct pitch. Researchers had guessed that it could be a hybrid of two whale species but any attempts to search for the creature for further study have failed. Though some have been saying that it’s not a whale but an entirely different animal.
“Loneliness was the main theme of the piece—just like the whale, if it truly exists, it is alone in the vast sea; with no family to call its own and with it being different from the others, no one would listen or understand their cries. Akin to the lonely astronaut floating in the endless void of space. Though the flowers and the seagull represent hope and freedom—that one day, everything they thought to be true would change, that someone is there to listen and welcome them in their arms.”
You feel yourself shiver and your heart race as you end your interpretation. How the art piece truly mirrors your life and your cry for recognition from the people who truly matter. You try your best not to shed the tears that well in your eyes, presenting the collector with a smile and hoping he sees it as passion and confidence.
But the look on his face startles you; there’s no judgment but you see a hint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. You think he’s about to say something, to comment on what you said, instead, he looks back at the artwork, seemingly appraising it.
“How much?” The question stuns you. Did you hear correctly?
“I’m sorry?”
“I want to buy your art piece.” He expounds. “How much are you selling it for?”
That’s the last thing you expected to be asked in a college grad show. Was he seriously wanting to purchase it? You try to answer, to tell him that you’re not really looking for buyers nor expecting to sell any of your work but no words come out of your mouth, still taken aback by his surprising inquiry.
“I don’t—” You stutter. “I’m not really—”
The chuckle he makes has you pulling on the cuffs of your oversized flannel, feeling slightly anxious at the thought that he’s making fun of your state of shock. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says with a smile, one that you mimic if only to ease the tension building within you. “But I am serious. I do want to buy it.”
Still, you don’t know what to say. Do you just give him an amount and call it a day?
“Why don’t you sit on it? Let’s say two days and I can give you a call for your price.” He holds up your business card between two fingers, the smile on his face turning into a playful smirk. “What do you say?”
Under-dressed.
Not that it was a concern you realistically should have but the patrons of the bar made you feel as such with the men clad in suit jackets and the women, either in dresses or whatever you call the style of attire that was classier than your hoodie-jeans-sneakers combo. At least you brought a coat—that’s fancy enough, right?
You nurse your Bellini cocktail and thumb through your phone while waiting for Steve, popping your conversation thread with him every second or two just to assure yourself that he confirmed, or rather, planned the night of drinks to discuss your “Lonely Whale” piece as he coined it. It seemed odd at first but his determination was what compelled you to agree to meet him.
The hiss of the straw fills your ears as you suck the last dregs of your drink. You shouldn’t have come early, you tell yourself, then you wouldn’t need to order another glass to accompany you on your wait.
“Need a top-up?” A familiar voice from behind startles you and you look up to see Steve, decorated in a maroon wool sweater and that tantalizing smile he seems to always have. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad coming here to this part of town.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the booth.
You scoot over to give him room, surprised that he didn’t take the one across from you. “Please, don’t be sorry. I wasn’t waiting long.” You assure him with a soft smile, tapping a finger on the rim of your glass. “The drink kept me company.”
“Are they any good?” He asks but he’s already called the attention of a server before you can even reply. He orders a Bloody Mary—quite peculiar, you think, but you’re not one to judge someone's preference. “And the lady will have another, please.”
Silence envelops the both of you as you wait for the drinks to arrive, feeling shy and anxious when he rests his arm against the back of the booth and turns in his seat to face you. You’re not used to being seen yet here’s this man, well-known in the field you didn’t think to excel in giving you such unwarranted attention.
“Uhmm, so I asked my instructor about the painting,” you begin as you try to break the ice, “and he said that—” but stop when he shakes his head and lets out a gentle laugh.
You think he’s playing at your lack of knowledge of these types of transactions that it makes you second-guess your words. Maybe you should have come off more confident and prevented showing him an inkling of your cluelessness. But the smile he sends your way speaks of something different. There is no presence of ill-intent yet you still keep your guard up.
“We can talk business later. I’d like to get to know the artist more first.” He says and for some reason, it could be how comfortable he seems to be around you, that you nod at his request, a soft smile forming on your lips.
“Well, what do you want to know?”
Giggling.
It’s been a while since you’ve done it but you guess after 4 glasses of the Bellini and a sip of his Bloody Mary, anyone would be in a lighter and more carefree mood. Just like how you are.
The anxiety that filled you when you first walked into the bar seems non-existent with how well Steve carries a conversation. He listened to you complain and laughed at your sarcastic comments, throwing back another to keep the exchange alive. There was no dull moment to be recorded, only understanding when you shared the struggle of an art student living in a fast-paced environment. He’s probably the first person in your life who knows almost everything there is to know about you and even if he is a total stranger, he feels more familiar than any other.
The night rolls by quicker than you’d hoped and the next thing you know you’re in his car, the alcohol messing with you as you begin belting out garbled lyrics to an Adele song. You’ve never felt so free and relaxed, and who would have thought you’d find it in someone who simply wants to buy your art project?
You arrive shortly at your apartment building, a curious thought passing through your head as you don’t recall typing in your address in the GPS. But it goes just as quickly as it came when the passenger door is opened and Steve holds out a hand to help you out.
He says your name, the syllables rolling like honey on his tongue and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the moon shines against his face, but you truly notice how his sapphire eyes glow brighter with how close he stands to you, his cologne permeating your senses and his warmth mixing with yours, keeping away the cold autumn breeze of the night that surrounds the both of you.
“I had a lovely evening.” He breathes, allowing him to take your hand in his. “And I don’t want it to end just yet.”
And it doesn’t.
You invite Steve into your apartment for coffee, something to help completely sober him up and drive home safe. But as soon as you close the door and toe off your shoes, his hands are on your face and his lips capture yours, a soft grunt escaping you when he presses you against the door. You’re too stunned to process that he’s kissing you, only finally realizing it when he breaks the kiss and looks at you with his eyes so blue.
You think he’s about to speak, to apologize for his forwardness, but instead he smiles while his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. You don’t understand what he sees in you to warrant such soft affection, or to even consider you as someone to kiss.
He leans closer once more, this time you sense the apprehension in his movements and with the way his eyes linger on your face. You shut your brain off completely, not wanting reason and rationality to stop whatever force that was pulling you together. So you meet him halfway, hands resting against his chest when you press your lips against his, a moan escaping you as when you feel him pull you further into the kiss.
To say he was a good kisser was an understatement with the way his wet muscle caressed your own and how his lips wrestle you into a passionate exchange. He chuckles when he bumps against a side table while walking backwards, blindly into the living room, hands pawing at each other, groping, touching, and you lift up his sweater as the desire to feel his skin blooms in your head.
But he doesn’t give you that chance as you drop back onto your loveseat couch, Steve’s hands pushing up your hoodie to expose the tank top hidden within. His fingers tickle your skin, teasing, taunting, and in one swift move he pulls down the cups of your bra having your tits spill out from them.
Mewls and moans are the only sounds that leave your lips, coherent words nonexistent with how his lips wrap around a mound, sucking, licking, and dampening the fabric to expose your stiff nipples which he gives his undivided attention to. You try to reach for him, to at least make sure that this is all real and not a dream, but his hands take yours, preventing you from even running your finger through his dark hair, the act only heightening your senses further.
But his venture to your breasts eventually stops and you look down at him when he trails butterfly kisses against your stomach, hands releasing yours only to undo the button and fly of your jeans. The garment flies but your panties stay, and you swear you could almost combust just from the way he looks at you—his eyes swirling with hunger, eagerness, and desperation for a taste.
Slowly, he trails kisses against your inner thighs, lips, and teeth meeting skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel. The nervousness swirls around you like twine, making your heart beat loudly against your chest as everything feels too new, too alien, despite this no longer being your first. But you’ve never encountered anyone as captivating as Steve and you feel as if he would run away once he sees you completely.
“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers into the air, his warm breath grazing against your heated core.
It’s only then you comprehend what he’s done, your panties pushed to the side to expose you completely before him and all at once you feel your body burn when he laves his tongue against your pussy lips, gentle at first, testing the waters which shift to intent as he pushes them apart with his fingers, your sacred bud caressed by his expert tongue.
You whisper his name as he begins delving into your pussy, strong hands keeping your thighs apart and pushing them down against the couch with his groans of pleasure filling your ears and fueling your desire for him. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair which you end up grabbing as a gasp is pulled from your lungs when he begins to suck your clit.
The room feels like it's spinning with the ecstasy that climbs higher within your body, your senses no longer feeling like your own as Steve pushes on with his pursuit, his mouth dancing beautifully against your clit, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. But he stops, and a small wave of panic arises in your chest. Though it washes away like footprints on the sand when he ventures lower, his thumb taking purchase of your clit, rolling and adding pressure while his mouth ventures lower, teasing your slit at first before slowly pushing inside.
Oh, how your body sings. Your back arches from the coach and you call out his name, louder this time, turning into a moaning mess as his regard to your cunt never wavers. You then feel the dam filling up at the pit of your stomach and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, encouraging—no—pushing him to pull you over the edge.
“Steve—” It’s all you manage to say, your breath catching in your throat.
His actions then become erratic, as if he can feel you teetering towards your peak, pulling you more to his mouth and devouring you whole. Sloppy, wet sounds of his mouth echo from below your waist, Steve letting out a low and guttural growl which only sets you ablaze. His thumb pushes more onto your clit, the pressure digging into your pelvis and finally having the dam at the pit of your abdomen burst.
Your body shakes and you grab onto Steve as your pussy walls flutter from your release, choking a sob as your sweet essence flows out of you. His awaiting mouth then laps each and every drop you offer, the sensation making you shiver yet at the same time cocoons you in euphoric bliss.
The alcohol in your system then appears, mixing with the pleasure that continues to loom around you, and your eyes begin to droop, a smile forming on your lips. Your limbs ache deliciously, cunt buzzing from the orgasm that has taken over. You feel tired all of a sudden but happy at the same time and you forget all, even Steve, as you’re ready to end the night with such a good note.
But a tap on your thigh pulls you from the serene moment, startling slightly to see Steve looking down at you with a grin painted on his face. “Stay awake, Baby.” He says, his hand running up your side and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “I’m not yet done with you.”
Nervous.
It’s all you feel as you stand outside of Steve’s home—if you could even call it that. With the modern exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows of the one-story home, you’d think you’re about to enter a museum. But it’s only reasonable for him to have such a lavish abode; he is an art collector after all.
“You okay?” You turn your head to the side to face him when he stands beside you, his warmth brushing against your skin as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.
“A bit—but more excited really.” You tell him, the giddiness of seeing his private collection dominating the restlessness you felt earlier.
“Only the people who matter have seen it.” The smile he gives you is so contagious that you give one back and follow him inside his home.
After the night spent at your apartment, your life slowly revolved around Steve. Mornings begin and nights end with him and his attentiveness—one that you found more endearing than suffocating, as what some people you assume would say if they knew of your relationship.
You don’t even know if you both have a relationship as neither of you discussed anything about labels, simply enjoying each other’s company. But you know that Steve has rooted himself deep in you, and you know that no matter how hard you try if anything comes that would sever you both, you’d have a hard time letting him go. Steve is the only one who has truly seen you and accepted you as you are.
A chill brushes your skin when you pass through the threshold of his home which has you pulling your knitted jacket more around your frame for warmth, and the first thing you see are the gallery lights mounted on the wall, with each one shining down on art pieces of different forms. The ones that stand by the door are wax figures of a woman’s pair of legs, one on each side. You look at it closely, the craftsmanship so intricate that you’d think it was real. The ones that come after it are different sets of arms and hands of women, again, each one posed differently and elegantly, as if welcoming you further down the hall.
It gives you pause with how unusual of a collection it is—women’s body parts—but you suppose that the world of art is filled with oddities. There was even one you heard who collects glass eyeballs, not caring if it was worn or not.
What greets you next are several paintings—if you can even call it as such—that litter the wall just the same, though you’ve never seen anything like it; one is of a canvas that houses different strands of hair that form into waves. You’re in awe with how they mimic the raging seas and how detailed and time consuming it must have been to complete. There’s even an image of a boat topped over it, as you inspect closely, you assume is made of leather.
There’s another like it, though this seemed more like a showcase of all types of tresses, spaced out perfectly in rows of five. Each one portrayed a distinct person, with colors ranging from blonde to black and textures from curly to the straightest you’ve seen. The urge to touch it grows strong, wanting to check if they’re real or not.
“They’re real,” Steve answers your unspoken question, and you turn back to face him, feeling shy all of a sudden when you see him staring at you. “I call it live art.”
“You made this?”
“Oh, no.” He smiles as he nears the artwork, Steve’s hands tucked inside his pockets while he looks up at it. “I had it made. Though I did provide the materials—volunteers donated the hair.” His explanation has you thinking; you never knew people would donate something so personal for art. “I’m hoping to add more to the collection—a prized one that can be my center of attention.” He says and you catch him looking at you from your periphery.
“What kind of prized piece?” You ask, curiosity nipping at the back of your head.
“Something I could never get tired of looking at.” The smile he gives you sends a chill up your spine but your mind flows out into a daze when he steps forward and takes your face between his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. “Like you.” He whispers and you can’t help but feel your face heat up with how beautiful he makes you feel.
“Come on. There’s more in the living room and I wanted to show you where I would place your painting.” He says, giving you one last kiss before taking your hand and leading further inside. But you don’t miss the piece that sits just at the end of the hall; a torso of a woman, the composition almost similar to Alexndros’ Venus de Milo, except this one was missing its head.
The living room is a sunken living room and it’s just as exquisite as the front of the house with paintings and figurines scattered in an organized fashion. Two couches sit on either side of a low table with a small cart that holds an array of spirits. You look around, mesmerized at the beauty he keeps within but stop when you notice a small greek style column sitting in the corner of the room.
“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the unusual fixture.
“That’s just a chair a friend of mine made.” He responds while pouring the both of you some drinks. “It’s pretty cozy even if it’s made out of stone. Why don’t you try it out? Pretend you’re an art piece.” He urges and the giddiness you feel allows you to humor him.
Soft jazz music then begins to play as you run your hand against the top, having a feel of the material before you take a seat, grabbing onto the sides to properly set yourself on top of it. The smile you catch on Steve’s face is wide as he approaches you and hands you your drink, his hand reaching up to caress your face.
“You look perfect on it.” He sips on his drink and so do you.
You can’t help but look at his eyes, how soft they look yet full of amidst the muted lighting that surrounds the both of you. You feel his hands continue to linger on your skin, resting gently on your shoulder with his thumb caressing the expanse of your neck.
“Dance with me.”
It’s all he says and you don’t have time to respond when he takes the glass from your grasp, setting both of them on the shelf that stands nearby and he reaches for you, his hands taking yours and placing them over his shoulders while his own finds purchase around your waist.
It feels like you’re walking on clouds with how he sways the both of you, his movements in sync with the music that fills the air. He holds you close, feeling his fingers drumming lightly on your back and how your feet follow him aimlessly, blindly with each step he makes. You’re suddenly aware of the intimacy that slowly winds the both of you, much different from the times he’s slept on your bed, and you feel shy, eyes casting down to stare at the edge of his navy turtleneck.
“Don’t hide from me, Baby,” He breathes softly, tilting your head back when he pinches your chin and feeling the warmth of his breath ghost against your lips. “I want to see you.”
Giddy.
It’s the only feeling you describe as soon as you wake up, your body sore but in a good way and the sheets atop the mattress warm, not just because of you but from the man that sleeps soundly at your side. You turn to face Steve and examine his face, his beautiful pointed nose and his dark hair askew from the pillow underneath his head.
You couldn’t believe your luck that someone like him would find interest in someone like you. You must have done something good in your previous life to feel such happiness that the neglect and disapproval you once received from the people you expected to love you is being provided by someone you’ve barely known for a week.
Good things come to an end, you hear the pessimist in you say but you push it down, deep down where you cannot hear its cry. You’re going to enjoy this, whatever this is, and if time comes that it should indeed come to a stop—well, you’ll cross the bridge when you get there.
You move to cuddle closer to Steve, wanting to feel more of his warmth but it’s interrupted by your need for relief that you settle on placing a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the bed and find the restroom.
Washing your hands when you finish, you find a robe hanging at the back of the door and boldly take it, putting it around you to shield you from the cold that continues to circulate within the house and venture back to his room—back to Steve’s arms. Except the lone light that shines in the darkness catches your eyes and you glance towards the bedroom. You don’t want to be caught snooping but the call of the void is too strong for you to ignore.
Silently, you pad down the hall and find yourself face to face with a staircase that leads to a closed door. Must be the basement, you think to yourself, taking one step at a time, you descend to your destination. You hesitate to hold the knob, not wanting to spoil your welcome but you soldier on, pushing through the barrier.
A row of yellow muted light illuminates the entryway, and you see nothing but several black barrels neatly pushed against the wall and a few scrubs hanging from mounted hooks. You thought you would see more artwork but are left disappointed, deciding to turn back but the white light at the end of the room stops you, curiosity once more taking over your senses.
Fear then grips you tight when you step into the light, hands flying to your mouth and a gasp unwillingly escaping you when you see a woman laid down on a metal table with her lower half missing and her head free of her scalp. What hangs on the wall makes your stomach turn even further, body parts—arms, legs and a severed head coated in something you can only assume to be wax.
You run. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you make it back again to the door and close it as quietly as you can, not wanting to awaken your host—a monster you never thought him to be. Carefully, though quickly, you climb the steps and the only thing you could think of is to leave and run as far as you can where he cannot find you.
Relief slowly washes over you when you get to the last step. Now all you have to do is go—call the authorities and—your thoughts take a dive when you feel someone grab you by the waist, trapping your arms along with it and a hand covering over your mouth as well as your nose.
“Where were you, Baby?” Steve’s calm voice forms from behind and your panic only rises further. You struggle against his hold, flailing as much as you can for him to let you go but he’s too strong and you feel the tears spill from your eyes as you think that this is the end. He’s caught you. You’re going to die.
“You never should have seen that.” He simply says and you grunt when a stabbing pain forms on your neck, a cool sensation flowing through your veins.
It’s then that he lets you go, your hand flying to where you felt the sting before turning to look at him. What did he do to you? You notice the syringe in his hand. Is it poison? Your vision almost instantly goes blurry, your limbs heavy and you drop to the floor, eyes cast to the ceiling as you try to make out your current state. The last thing you see is Steve, a sinister smile on his face and incoherent words coming from his lips before everything goes dark.
You’re dead.
It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you come to. Everything slowly comes into clarity; the room you’re in is somewhere you’ve not been and the cool metal you feel around your ankle only solidifies the fact that he’s successfully trapped you in the hell he dwells in.
A door opens and closes and you curl up small on the bed you lay in to hide yourself from him. You’re crying once again a multitude of emotions surge from within—is it fear? Hopelessness? Anger? Towards him for lying to you or to yourself for believing him.
“I never wanted you to find out this way.” He sighs. “I never wanted you to find out at all.”
“Are you going to kill me?” You can’t help but ask, even though you know what the answer is.
“Not yet.” His calm in his voice brings a chill to your spine. “Despite what you believe, I meant what I said; you matter to—”
“Stop lying to me!” You shout and sit up from the bed, grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why me?!” You shout, the anger that was settling in your bones turns into a raging fire. You go to lunge for him, wanting to rip his skin with your bare hands but the cuff on your foot stops you, making you fall to the ground in front of him.
He tuts and you see his leather shoes in front of you. A groan then leaves your tongue when he grabs you by your face, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you try to pull away from him. But he only pinches tighter, making you shout in pain that fades all too quickly when he shakes you and makes you face him dead in the eyes.
“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.” He snips. “I enjoy you a lot—don’t make me kill you so soon.”
“Just fucking do it!” You spit. “Do it! Kill me now!”
The laugh he gives you is menacing. He shakes his head, his other hand moving to run his finger on the side of your face. You see the darkness swirling around the sapphires of his eyes and you question yourself why, for the many times he’s stared at you, you’ve never seen it before.
“Soon.” He promises. “For now, I’ll keep you. I don’t mind that column being empty just a little longer.”
#steve kemp#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x f!reader#dark steve kemp#dark!steve kemp#you#fresh#fresh the movie#sebastian stan characters#dark fic#horror fic#beanie's freaktober fest#freaktober fest#shadeysprings fics
419 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don't Speak 33
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)
Character: librarian!Andy Barber
Note: Okay I had no plans to get this done but since US thanksgiving is near.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
You cling to that moment of peace. Without Andy touching you, smothering you, invading you. You hide your head under your bent arm, curled up on your side as you try to close the world out. Reality slices through you like a razor.
You cannot outrun what is. Not anymore. You’ve lost that ability. Your mind can’t summon the fantasies that once kept you safe. There is only the tenderness inside and the bruises on your thighs.
He’s there, somewhere, lurking. You thought he would go to work but that hope was quickly crushed, along with all your others. He stayed and touched you until that got the better of him. Then he would put you on your back, or your stomach, sometimes your side, however he wanted you…
And you let him. You don’t fight. Your weightless body follows his whim and opens to him. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper as your walls clench at the thought of him near you.
There’s something wrong with you. You’re supposed to love him, so it shouldn’t feel so bad, right? After all he’s done for you, shouldn’t you want him to do that? Shouldn’t you be just as eager for him?
You don’t understand it. It’s not supposed to hurt so surely, you’re doing something wrong. You’ll get it right. You can be what Andy wants, what he needs. You will not be another burden. Never again.
You hear him coming. You quiver and shrink down further. You can’t find the strength to sit up and try.
He greets you with a sigh. Oh no, he’s mad. You whimper and curl your arm snugger around your head. What did you do now? What is he going to do?
He nears the bed, his shadow standing over you as his presence brings a dark cloud. He shifts and sniffs, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He puts his large hand on your shoulder and you wince. You squeeze your eyes shut.
“We need to talk, Dove,” he says.
Talk? You can’t handle it. You’d rather he just hurt you than repeat the facts. You don’t need him to tell you how bad you are, you already know.
“Sit up,” he shakes you, gently but enough to jar you.
You relent and fall onto your back. You stare at the ceiling and press your hands to the mattress. You sit up, little but little, your muscles knotted and stiff.
You hug the blanket to your chest, hiding behind it as you hunch your shoulders forward. You can’t look at Andy so you focus on the lump of your feet under the covers.
“Why do you keep lying?” He rasps.
You blink as your lip trembles, tears threatening to spring free. He’s mad again. Your entire body tenses as you brace for what comes next.
“You could’ve told me about Steve,” he lifts the shape in his lap and you glance over. It’s your tablet. “He’s your doctor, I wouldn’t have been mad.”
You sniffle and cup your chin in your hands, fingers over your mouth. You watch him turn the tablet over and slide back the cover. You don’t try to stop him or defend yourself. He’s right. About everything.
“If you needed help… with the toy or figuring things out, I was here. I am here. You could’ve asked me,” an edge creeps into his voice, “why didn’t you ask me?”
You don’t say a word. You’re trapped in your own guilt. He has the proof in his hands. You did it, you lied and betrayed him.
“The only thing I ask of you, is that you tell the truth. You haven’t, so I can’t trust you. Not until you show me I can,” Andy closes the tablet, pressing his thumb to the cover. “And maybe then you can have this back.”
You nod and hang your head. It’s easier if you just do what he wants. You’ll get used to it eventually, maybe even one day, you’ll be normal and want it too.
🕊️
“This is nice,” Andy struts into the room with a hanger in hand.
You sit on the edge of the bed where he left you. His frustration drew you out of your cocoon to shiver in the morning air. You can smell the crisp autumn seeping in around the window. There’s no point trying to figure out how long you’ve been like this, counting the days will only make it torturous.
You glance over as Andy waggles the dress at you, one of those he bought you. The bishop sleeves are almost longer than the skirt, the shade of faded plum overlaid with a translucent layer. You look at it and nod. Whatever he wants.
“You’ll have to clean up first,” he lays the dress on the bed, “it’ll help you feel better too.”
You blink and pinpoint on his chest. You can’t look him in the face. He nears you and runs his hands down your arms, sending a chill through you. He bends and twists you around to scoop you up. He hums as he lifts you against his chest.
“Aren’t you excited, honey?” He chimes.
You frown, excited? You let your head fall against his shoulder. There isn’t an ounce of strength left in you.
“Thanksgiving,” he prompts as if it’s obvious, “I got everything we need! So you can get started once you're ready. Don’t worry, I woke up early to deal with the turkey.”
He enters the bathroom and puts you down on the closed toilet. You look down at yourself. You wear his t-shirt and nothing else. He moves away to crank on the tub and quickly comes back to you. You wrinkle your nose, confused.
“Thanksgiving?” You croak.
“Uh, yeah, duh!” His tone is laced with forced enthusiasm. “Our first together.”
He tugs the hem of the shirt from under your ass and you murmur. You try to catch the cotton. He tuts and you let go. He rolls the fabric up your body and you lift your arms, surrendering.
“An…” you start to say his name but can’t get the bitter noise out. You clear your throat, “what if… I don’t feel good, I don’t know if I have the energy–”
“You’ve been in bed forever. You can get up for one day,” his timbre turns rigid, “you promised me. You promised Doctor Kemp. Do you want to let us both down?”
You close your eyes and slump. He huffs and tosses the shirt on the tile. You reach to touch your lashes and sniff back a wave of tears. It’s not just the time, the way it moves without you knowing, no, it’s him that makes you feel so helpless.
“Don’t do this,” he whispers, half a growl.
“I…” you inhale, struck by his fury, “I won’t. I’ll be good.”
You try to force a smile as you pull your hands away. Your cheeks twitch and your eyes sting, your lips just won’t curve the way you want them too. Another sigh as he stands straight. He rolls up his sleeves before he lifts you again.
He lowers you into the tube as you squeeze your legs together. You fold your arms around yourself, trying to hide, as he reaches for a scrubby and the bottle of vanilla soap. He pops the cap violently as the water bulges up towards your knees.
“Dove,” he reproaches as he grabs your arm, straightening it as he holds your wrist firmly.
You squeak as he scrubs you harshly. You hide behind your eyelids as the flash of another memory strikes you. The cold downpour of water from a screaming shower head, chattering teeth, and quaking sobs.
When he makes you stand, you curl your fingers to tight fists. As he washes you, you feel even more exposed than before. He takes his time on your chest and stomach, surprising you as he leans forward to his just beside your navel. You flinch and glance down.
“You’re beautiful, honey, you shouldn’t be so shy,” he says, “all done, sit.”
You obey and he finishes up the bath, helping you stand before wrapping you up in a soft towel. He pats you dry and moisturises your skin with the fragrant strawberry lotion. This time, he makes you walk back to the room with him.
As you consider the dress, he goes to his dresser and slides out a drawer. He comes to the bed and drops something else. You stare at the white panties and bra, see-through and speckled with little hearts.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says as he touches the front of his shirt, damp from the tub, “I’ll change too.”
You bite your lip and keep your chin down. You touch the dress, staring at the underwear, mortified at the thought of wearing those. Why can’t you wear something comfortable? Why can’t you be you? Why can’t he love you as you?
🕊️
Andy said Steve is coming. You don’t dare ask when as the conversation about your tablet looms over you. You don’t want him to think anything bad of the doctor. It’s not his fault, you’re just stupid.
You put your energy into following the precise instructions printed out before you. All the ingredients are set out neatly for you. It’s all manageable, even for you.
In the next room, the TV blares with the commentators on the NFL pre-game. Andy paces in and out, as if checking on you, or maybe he’s restless. You start peeling the sweet potatoes as he comes in again, looking at his watch.
“Dr. Kemp said he’d bring dessert,” Andy says, “I bought a pie just in case. If he isn’t here in the next hour, we’ll take it out of the freezer.”
“Okay,” you agree as you drag the peeler over the bumpy potato.
“You must be excited, huh, dove?”
“Um, sure, I… I like Thanksgiving. Lots of food,” you smile, you’re getting better at that. “Um, yeah.”
“What?” He tilts his head, his hands going to his hips. Oh no, he’s mad. Again.
“N-nothing, I didn’t…” you look away, “nothing.”
“It’s just Steve,” he shrugs, “I don’t have family. You know, if you bothered to ask, you might realise we’re a lot more alike than you think.”
You chew your cheek and focus on stripping the orange potato. You never did ask. You didn’t think you should. It feels nosy so it’s not that you never wondered or cared, you just don’t know what’s right.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur.
“For?”
“For not asking. Sorry that you’re alone too,” you grab the next potato.
“Not anymore, dove, we got each other, right?” He chirps, “anyway, before you get too deep into that, you should really do the snacks first. Can’t watch football without munchies.”
“Oh, I… I didn’t think…” you put the potato down and wipe your hands on the dish towel on the counter.
“Wait, wait,” he goes by the fridge and unhooks an apron hanging on the other side. “You don’t want to dirty up that pretty dress.”
“Uh, good idea.”
He puts the top strap over your head, tugging it down snug to your neck. He signals you to turn and you do. He steps close, reaching around you as he smooth the front and drags his hands to the thinner straps behind you. He ties them slowly, tickling your lower back through the dress.
“Let me see,” he steps back.
You face him and he admires you. You look down at the floral fabric with a large bow at the waist. It looks almost like a vintage dress on its own. You straighten your arms and sway as he purrs.
“That looks so good on you,” he steps closer and you plant your feet, resisting the urge to retreat. “Makes me wanna eat you up.”
Your chest racks with panic as he advances on you. He corners you against the counter as he flutters his fingers along the ruffled edge of the apron. You watch his hands creep up the fabric and gulp. Oh, again? Here? You thought you were safe.
“We got time,” his hands close on your hips, “just a little taste.”
You yelp as he takes you off your feet, perching you on the counter. Your ass knocks a bowl across the island and you brace the granite for balance. He pushes your knees apart and steps between them. You're paralysed as he cups your chin, tilting your head back as he kisses you. Suddenly.
He clamps his hand around the back of your neck, locking you against him. His other hand trails down your leg, stopping at your knee and crawling back up. He slips beneath the apron and your skirt, tendrils radiating from his touch. Your muscles spasm as you gasp.
He parts from your lips, kissing your jaw and neck, nibbling and moaning as his fingertips inch towards the trim of your panties. The cool air slips beneath your dress and through the thin fabric. You shudder as you close your eyes, trying to bury yourself inside.
“Mmmm, dove,” he shifts and nuzzles your chest.
He slowly gets to his knees, holding your legs apart as he pecks along your skin. You whimper as he edges towards your skirt, his breath dampening your thigh. He hums and pinches you with his teeth.
“Delicious,” he pokes his head under your skirt, a sudden ding breaking your trance.
He retracts, sitting back on his heels as the doorbell echoes through the house. You look down at him as he closes his eyes and grimaces. He shakes his head and pushes himself up to his feet, grunting as he stands.
“Great timing, as always,” he scoffs.
He struts out, his chagrin obvious in his posture. You push off the counter, landing awkwardly on your feet, tweaking your ankle slightly. You go to the doorway, peeking around into the hall but not daring to venture out.
Andy rolls his shoulders as he stops by the door. He heaves a breath as the doorbell chimes again. He turns back the latch and twists the handle, pulling it back.
“Andrew,” Kemp’s voice booms into the entryway, “Happy Thanksgiving!” You can’t help the way your heart topturns at his familiar timbre, “brought dessert.”
“What is she doing here?” Andy growls.
“Thanksgiving is for family, Andrew, and her family is here,” Kemp insists.
“No, I didn’t invite her–”
“Where is she?” The unseen ‘her’ asks. Your mouth falls open. Amber? “Let me see her.”
You rush forward without thinking. No fear, no doubt, you just want to see your sister. You scurry down the hall and brush by Andy, elbowing him as he reaches to stop you. You burst out through the doorway and crash into Amber, wrapping your arms around her.
“Hey,” her voice piques as she hugs you back, “hey, I’m here.”
#andy barber#dark andy barber#dark!andy barber#andy barber x reader#don't speak#series#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#au#library au#defending jacob#fresh#steve kemp
199 notes
·
View notes
Text
Honest
Steve Kemp: Steve’s never lied to you. 18+ only!
Dub/Non Con Warning!
more content warnings here!
“I’m gonna keep you alive, for as long as I can.”
You would have scoffed if you were in less of a frantic state. Though it had only been two months, you had grown to trust Steve; he had never lied to you, and you thought he never would. You trusted him so much that had he not already lied to you, you would believe him now.
“I don’t believe you,” you say shakily, trying to stop your body from trembling as you pull against the chain cuffed to your right hand.
He crouches down, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you’re too preoccupied with fumbling with your restraint to meet his gaze, despite deep down knowing how useless your effort here would be.
“I’ve never lied to you,” he says.
“You said you were a vegetarian,” you snap through gritted teeth, as you try hard at tugging your hand free.
“I said I don’t eat animals.”
You briefly pause your efforts—so momentarily it may as well not count—running through your mind the red flags you should have caught—but they were never lies. You want to berate yourself for getting so caught up in his charm, but, in your defence, how were you supposed to know your boyfriend was a cannibal? Maybe you should have been more wary he was a kidnapper, but a cannibal?
“Yeah,” this time you do scoff, “Eats pussy, eats people, what’s the difference.”
His serenity juxtaposed with your anxious effort to get free are driving you madder by the second.
“Stop doing that,” he mutters, but you don’t stop, instead trying harder, pulling harder, hands trembling harder, heart thumping harder.
“STOP!” he yells, and it startles you enough to pull your left hand away. He stands, towering over you and blocking the light, like a dark cloud blocking the sun to cause a storm.
“No!” you scream at him as you kick away the sheets of the thin mattress onto the cold floor, “Don’t touch me!” you shriek, cowering further into the corner, pushing up hard against the wall, willing it to swallow you up, even collapse against you—just anything to get you away from him.
He holds his hands up and shrugs, still cool as ever, as you throw your head back against the wall, eyes closed and chin outward towards him, nose to the roof as you will yourself to just. Wake. Up. Because this can’t be real.
You scramble to stand up and attempt to dart past him—for what, you’re not sure, maybe the chain will break or something, doesn’t matter, you just have to try something.
His eyes widen but he easily sticks out an arm and you run into it. You bend over his outstretched arm and start screaming and kicking. He pulls you against his chest, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist and the other caging your chest, his hand in your hair.
“Stop, stop, stop,” he coos, “Calm down.”
And against your better judgement you do, you slowly stop fighting against him, because no matter what, his warm arms wrapped around you and the scent of his earthy cologne relax you, like you’re conditioned to. You close your eyes and hope when you open them you’ll be back in your bed, Steve’s strong arms around you, and you were only kicking because you had an awful nightmare, but it’s okay, because Steve’s got you.
You peel your eyes open and deflate in disappointment, met with the same dim orange light and cold room, Steve’s arms around you.
You feel really stupid that you pretty much just walked into your cage, maybe you would have felt better if he had snatched you off the side of the road, because that wouldn’t be your fault. This… this did feel like your fault.
“Steve, let me go,” you demand, still out of breath.
He drops your body onto the mattress and you groan as you look up at him again. You know you asked, but you feel colder without him. You want to say I meant let me out of here, but he holds up a finger to stop you when he sees you open your mouth.
“Now why would I let my favourite girl leave?”
You physically cringe at his words. In any other context that would have you blushing and lightly squeezing your thighs together, but now, you hear the word favourite and your mind wanders to how many women he’s said that to… how many women he’s done this to.
“Would have thought you treated your favourite a little better,” you snap, and immediately regret it when his eyes go dark and his face falls. You suppress a shudder, and when the corner of his mouth quirks up, you try uselessly to back away even further. His eyes remain dangerous and his lips beautifully coy, his gorgeous features morphing a juxtaposition that terrifies you.
“You know I can make you feel good,” he drawls, tone heated.
“Steve, don’t,” you breathe, disgusted, by him, and by yourself, for you feel that familiar heartbeat calling out to him. Your body defies you, responding on its own to his drop in octave as you watch him crouch down to you.
He lays down next to you and moves his hand to your waist, “And you know… maybe I want you for myself. I already know you taste sweet.”
He smiles and traces his fingers further down to your thigh and squeezes gently.
You can’t look away from him, fixated on his steel blue eyes, mouth slightly open and breathing uneven.
Slowly, he moves to hold himself up above you, neat brown waves falling forward as he stares down at you, hunger-filled eyes raking over you. You know that look; he wants to devour you.
But… maybe in a different context this time.
Your nerves scale up as he moves down and places his head between your thighs, pushing them apart.
“Steve, please stop,” you whisper as he settles.
“You’re soaked already,” he remarks, before running his middle finger down your clothed slit. You writhe and you can feel his amused exhale against your heat.
Though every brain cell is screaming this is wrong, you can’t help but crave his mouth on you, and you’re so caught up in the idea you don’t even notice he’s slipping your underwear off until he leaves a gentle kiss on your cunt and you gasp, hands immediately flying to grip his hair.
He smiles before his mouth latches onto you.
Your hips buck into his face before he steadies you, his hands smoothing over your thighs and slipping underneath them to get a better (but still gentle) grip on you, pulling you closer to him. You let out a sob at a particularly harsh suck he gives and he grins before dipping his tongue back in and swirling.
“Steve…” you whine, and you can’t even tell for what; for him to stop, for him to never stop, you don’t know. With every swirl, lick, suck, you can feel your resolve starting to melt away, mere minutes into discovering you’re his fucking captive.
“You taste so fucking good,” he grunts against you, his voice cracking as he struggles to keep his composure, just as lost in the taste of you as you are in the feel of him.
You’re close and he knows it, “Cum for me, sweetness, please,” he begs, sounding nearly desperate. And you do, with an arch of your back and a heavenly moan falling from your mouth, you cum into his mouth, tears stinging your vision as you grip tighter onto his locks before letting your hands fall away to push weakly as his shoulders.
“See?” he says as he raises his head. You manage to look down at him, his nose and lower face glistening, coated in you, “You just taste so fucking good… the rest of you’s gotta to be as heavenly too, honey.”
♯
#steve kemp x reader#dark!steve kemp#dark!steve kemp x you#dark!steve kemp x reader#dark steve kemp#dark steve kemp x reader#dark steve kemp x you#steve kemp x y/n
293 notes
·
View notes
Text
Game on, Barnes
Bucky x Brat!Reader pt1 18+
Summary: Drunk reader and protective Bucky. Series Warnings: Dom Bucky, Brat reader Dom/sub undertones, daddy kink, handcuffs, smut next chapter lol, alcohol, knife kink.
- “Bucky. No.”
- “Doll. Yes.”
This had been going on for a while now. Bucky trying to handle drunk you and drunk you stubbornly avoiding his help. Nope. Nope. Tonight was meant for you, Natasha, and Wanda to get plastered and while you were very tempted to give into your convincing boyfriend, you’d waited all week for this.
How he knew you were here, you didn’t even know. You decided that maybe it would be best to leave out some details of what your girls night would consist of. You didn’t enjoy keeping him out of the loop but Bucky tended to be a bit….protective? Not to mention the whole team knew of you being a lightweight so if he were to find out you’d be out drinking with someone like Natasha, he’d definitely object.
- “baby…I’m not going to ask again. Drink the water now before I pry your mouth open and pour it down your throat.” He seethed. His voice was harsh and deep, stirring something inside you. It almost convinced you to obey him. Almost.
You pushed you body against his chest, hands slowly making their way underneath his Henley. His skin was hot under your fingers as you rubbed circles on his chest. Looking up at his face you saw that he was doing his best to ignore the affect your touch had on him as he refused to make eye contact.
- “Cmon daddy….I can think of a better way to use my throat” you whined, suddenly desperate for him.
The sudden use of his favorite nickname causes his eyes to snap down to yours. You were a mess but to Bucky you still looked angelic, even with you drunken blush, messy hair, and glassy eyes.
- “yeah babydoll? You done being a brat and ready to be my good girl?” Bucky hummed as he rubbed circles on your hips. Fuck he wanted you right now.
His patronizing tone had your stubbornness melting away, you now ready to please Bucky. - “yes daddy. M’sorry” you pouted. “ jus’ wanna go home and be your good girl.”
As soon as the words left your mouth Bucky placed and assertive kiss to your lips and threw you over his shoulder already marching out of the club and towards your shared apartment. You letting out drunk giggles the whole way there.
~~~~~
- “I hate you.”
- “I love you, babydoll.”
- “If you loved me you would have handcuffed me to our bed and fucked me!” You all but cried. “not handcuff me to our bed and tell me to sleep!” You sobbed out as you thrashed to show your frustration. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at your childishness from you not getting what you want.
“I promise I’ll fuck your in the morning baby” he tried to compromise in between laughs, only fueling your anger.
- “but…but I’m horny now! Please Bucky!” You screeched as you saw Bucky get into his side of the bed.
- “I can’t fuck you while you’re in this state babydoll. It’d make me feel like I’m using you” he cooed in an attempt to call you down as he gently cupped your jaw.
- “I want you to use me!” You huffed laying it on thick in hopes he’d give in.
- “I swear on my soul, I’ll use you sooo much tomorrow, baby.”
- “……promise?”
- “pinky promise.” He swore as he brought his metal pinky finger up to your cuffed one.
- “can you at least take these off?” You questioned, motioning to the metal holding your arms above your head.
- “oh no. I can’t. You’re simply too dangerous. You’ll jump my bones the second you get the chance” he exaggerated, before turning off your lamp, leaving you both in complete darkness.
- “good night, sweetheart.” Bucky cooed with a kiss, only to receive a huff from you.
“………”
“………….”
“…………….goodnight, Bucky”
you just couldn’t go to bed without a goodnight. After all he really did love you, even if he cuffed you up to keep you from fucking.
But you’d get him back.
Just when he least expected it.
Game on, Barnes.
✼ •• ┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨🖤୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈ •• ✼
Taglist 🏷
@themotherofhorses @yessirsargeantbarnes @mgkbabygirl @thedarthpancakes @openup-wide @booksandbenbarnes
#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#steve x bucky#bucky barns x y/n#the winter solider smut#marvel x reader#bucky barnes x reader#daddy Bucky x reader#dark bucky x reader#steve kemp x reader#steve rogers#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
I heard you escaped Steve's home!
But is the man you bump into in the woods a friend or foe?
𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏
✧˚ · . 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘒𝘦𝘮𝘱. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.
pairing — werewolf!bucky x reader
w/c — 1.8k
this is a dark fic. 18+ only.
listening to — ♫ dark side of the moon, suisside
warnings — general dark elements, allusion to steve kemp being a cannibal and holding women captive, reader is missing her left arm, non-major character death, reference to violence, reference to stabbing injury, werewolves lol, smut, non-con turned dub-con (p in v sex), breeding kink, knotting, tongue play kinda, possessiveness, monsterfucking, a kinda nice ending lol
a/n — written on my phone. not beta read. navy you fucking menace look what you made me do 😌 thank you to @rookthorne for letting me scream at you about this.
You’d done it.
Steve was dead.
After the locking mechanism to your cell had failed due to a storm overhead, you’d managed to get hold of a butcher's knife in the kitchen.
Steve hadn’t seen it coming when you plunged the knife into his chest while he napped on the couch. He didn’t die immediately. There was a struggle, and you sustained a stab wound to your side when Steve almost overpowered you.
It was hard as Steve had already given you a disadvantage. Several days ago, he had taken your left arm for his sick purpose.
But he was too weak from your sneak attack, and he collapsed on top of you with his dying wheeze.
You’d tried to free other girls, but you were the only one left. And when you’d found Steve’s phone, you were unsurprised to find there was no reception because of the heavy rain that battered down on the roof.
You dressed in one of Steve’s warm sweaters and sweatpants, tucking his phone into your pocket to keep it safe from the rain.
The left sleeve of the sweatshirt swinging empty, covered in his blood and your own, you stumbled out into the night.
The rain was pouring down, lightning flashing across the sky before the thunder rumbled. It was the kind of weather that made you want to snuggle into bed with a book and a cup of tea. Instead, you were stuck trying to find a neighbouring property.
Your bare feet sunk into the muddy earth as you dragged yourself into the woods surrounding Steve’s property.
Asshole. Living in the middle of nowhere.
You cursed Steve’s decrepit soul as you wandered into the forest. The flashes of light helped you make your way through the darkened trees, but it felt as if you were walking in circles, with no sense of direction to guide you.
After some time, you stopped for a break, your legs tired, and your body fatigued. You leant against the trunk of a tree, breaths coming out in short pants. Finally, the rain began to ease, the storm passing. The clouds opened up, allowing the moon to be revealed.
You marvelled at it for a moment—a beautiful full moon.
If this is where you were destined to die, it was pretty at least.
The sounds of wolf cries into the night sounded, but they fell on deaf ears as you focused on keeping yourself conscious.
Your hand clutched at your left side where Steve had stabbed you, the wound throbbing and making you woozy. Maybe you could rest a little. Just sit and close your eyes for a while.
You slumped against the bark, your legs beginning to give way as your vision blurred with a vignette at the edges. Was this your final curtain call?
The wind howled through the trees as you fell to your side, your blood mixing with the mud. You were just so tired.
Another cacophony of animals sounded, growls and barks nearby. But it didn’t matter, not when your body was ready to bid the moon an eternal goodnight.
With a grunt, you rolled onto your back, tears swelling as you gazed at the glowing full moon.
I’m not ready to die. Mr Moon, won’t you grant me a second chance?
Your eyes closed, and everything went dark and silent.
It was hard to discern what you noticed first as you came to.
Was it the snarling and panting? The wet slobber of a large tongue across your skin? The fur that tickled you? Or the cock that was nestled at your entrance?
Definitely the last one.
You opened your eyes with a gasp, and you screamed at the sight of the thing on top of you.
A monster. Pearly white sharp teeth, a large imposing figure, and dark fur that covered its whole body.
You were pinned down on your back by a werewolf. Like a picture book come to life.
The wolf-man didn’t seem perturbed by your screams. He was feral enough as it was. His drool dripped from his snout onto your chest, your clothes already torn away while you were unconscious.
Shit, the phone. You tried to sit up to find it, but large claws dug into your skin as a warning not to move.
“Are you going to kill me?” It was a bold move asking the beast a question, but he didn’t answer, instead licking a long stripe up your neck and over your cheek.
The werewolf licked at your side where your wound was, and you gasped when you glanced down to see it healed. Did he save you?
“What—? I— I don’t understand—“ You were silenced when the wolf brought his tongue to your lips, invading your mouth with his wet muscle.
You tried to squirm, but the beast held tight as he fucked your mouth with his tongue, his huffs getting deeper as growls rumbled from him.
His inhumanly large cock prodded at your entrance, your eyes going wide when you felt the way his natural lubricant gave him an easy slide in.
The werewolf pulled back with a howl as he sunk himself into your waiting heat, his fur puffing up and tail going rigid.
It was all too much. You’d expected death, and yet, you were at the mercy of a beast instead. The pleasure that came the deeper he got, and the more he stretched you was enough to have you howling too.
You felt full to the brim, and he was just over halfway. “Ah! Stop! You’re not going to fit!”
But the beast kept going. He curled his arms around you, cradling you against the forest floor before biting into your collarbone to stabilise himself.
He ignored your cries as he rutted deeper, rocking your body with his as he made you take his entire length.
You felt a little ridge when he reached the fuzzy fur at the base of his cock, and it was enough to have your nerves alight with arousal.
The scent of this mysterious man had your head swirling as if you had inhaled an aphrodisiac. His very being was turning your body into what he needed. A fleshlight to fuck his seed into.
He kept you close, sweat beginning to sheen across your skin with the heat radiating from him. When the beast started to thrust deep and hard, your fingers dug into his fur to hold on.
The beast whimpered when you touched him, and you properly got a look at him. Hulking and massive with red eyes that shone like a bright ruby. He was breathtakingly beautiful in a morbid way. A beautiful horror you couldn’t look away from.
You ran your hands down his arms, only then noticing that one arm wasn’t furry at all. It was metal, but the appendage had taken a beastly form too, so it suited the rest of him. It was his left arm, just like yours.
When your eyes met, the wolf thrust particularly deep, causing you to moan out. And you could swear there was almost a smile on his snout.
Resuming his brutal pace, the werewolf began fucking without resolve, like nothing more than an animal desperate for its primal release.
You had no choice but to hold on as he bit into your shoulder, holding you still like his prey as he panted and groaned, cock swelling bigger as he started getting rougher.
“Fuck! I can’t—“ A large paw covered your mouth, silencing any further words.
You were ready to keep protesting until the beast changed his angle, his sharp nailed feet digging into the dirt, and the bulbous tip of his cock pounding against your g-spot.
Stars burst behind your eyes, and your body began to shake uncontrollably from the absolute bliss that took over.
He didn’t stop. And before long, your toes began to curl as an orgasm approached.
Sensing your tensing body, the werewolf growled in your ear as if he was beckoning you to cum for him.
You let go, allowing the intense orgasm to wash over you.
Your sounds were muffled behind the man-beast’s paw as you came, your feet kicking at his back and ass as you shook. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before.
The wolf watched it all, drinking in the sight of you.
You felt the ridge at the end of his cock begin to get bigger, the ring of muscle catching at your entrance. It was a little painful as the knot pulled at your entrance with each feral thrust, but luckily the werewolf buried himself deep.
His pelvis ground against you as he whimpered and yipped.
An odd barked growl was the only warning you got before the knot swelled fully and plugged you.
The first shoot of cum entered you, and you moaned at how warm it was. Just like the rest of him. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself just to feel as you were filled with the seemingly never-ending stream of release.
The wolf moved his paw from your mouth, placing it on your belly where his seed was planted deep.
It gave you tingles, how his nails raked across your skin, not enough to cut but enough to leave marks.
He massaged your belly, causing some of the cum to seep around his knot, the pressure too much. You cried out, placing a hand over his to stop him. It felt odd.
The wolf looked at you, his head quirking and blood-red eyes narrowing. Was he insulted you tried to stop him?
“Mine.”
You were shocked at the deep timbre and surprisingly sultry tone of the werewolf. It was the first word he’d spoken, and it was enough to have your thighs clenching against his hips.
“It’s too much when you—“
“Mine.”
Alright. So he wasn’t a conversationalist. “Y-Yes. I got that bit. Uhm. Please don’t push on my—“
“Mine. Home.”
“Stop cutting me off— Wait. Home?” You asked incredulously, confused by the new word in the wolf’s vocabulary. But it started to make more sense when the man-beast picked you up, holding you to his chest as his knot kept you connected. He was taking you home.
He began walking, and you sighed at the sight of your clothes and Steve’s phone discarded in the mud.
So much for an escape.
“Do you have a name?” You conceded. If the beast was taking you home, the least you could do was know his name. Although, maybe he’d turn human again? What would he look like?
“Bucky.”
“Thanks for healing me, Bucky.” You murmured awkwardly, and the beast huffed in response. His knot finally let you go, so he moved you to his hip, carrying you like precious cargo even when his fur began to get wet with the cum that seeped from your core. “Do you know more than three words?”
“Mine. Home. Bucky. Mine.”
An amused snort left you. “That’s… not what I meant.”
You curled yourself into the werewolf’s fur. Despite the circumstances, he saved you. He made you feel good when all you’d experienced was pain and suffering.
For the first time in a long while, a smile graced your lips. This was undoubtedly a fate better than death.
“Pretty girl. Pretty smile.”
You glanced down, embarrassed from the compliment, just in time to see Bucky’s tail begin to wag. “So you do know more than three words.”
To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.
#ambs answers#navy 💙#ambswrites#Bucky Barnes#dark bucky barnes#werewolf bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#Steve kemp#dark bucky barnes x you#dark bucky barnes x reader#sebastian stan character#sebastian stan#dark fic#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes fanfic
650 notes
·
View notes
Text
keep your heart open, i’ll keep mine open, too.
part one / part two
pairing: steve kemp x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. this is a dark fic. smut. normal steve kemp warnings.
words: 4.4k
notes: month late valentines “drabble”. one down, three to go 🥴. anyway, hope you enjoy. thanks in advance for reading 🖤 as always, comments and reblogs are always welcome and so appreciated!
“See, this is fun, isn’t it?” Steve smiled at you, the crinkles by his eyes deepening as he beamed.
You swallowed and gave him a small smile, nodding softly as you looked back down at the pizza dough he’d helped you knead. “Yeah, it is,” you agreed.
The counter was covered in flour as your formed and stretched dough sat waiting to be topped. Steve brought over the bowl of his homemade pizza sauce and offered you a spoon as he stood next to you.
“Just plop it on and spread it,” he smiled as he did just that to his own dough, looking over to you as you watched him smear the sauce around.
Taking a scoop onto your spoon, you mimicked him, spreading the sauce evenly. Just like frosting a cake, you smiled to yourself at the familiar action you hadn’t been able to do since Steve had gotten you here.
You’d missed this, baking, decorating, being able to lose yourself in the work. The simplicity, familiarity of it all. It was nice having a distraction. You didn’t have many of those here. You were always acutely aware of everything that was going on. Everything.
“Sweetheart?” Steve's voice cut through your train of thought, pulling you out of your head.
“Hm?” you hummed, having missed his previous question.
“Cheese?” he asked again, a smile playing on his lips but you could tell by the hard look in his eye he was concerned, wary of where your thoughts were trailing off to. Your eyes widened as you took a breath before forcing a smile on your face with a slight nod.
“Right, yeah,” you said, grabbing a handful of the shredded cheese from the bowl he set down. You sprinkled the shreds evenly over the sauce before grabbing a bit more for the bare spots.
“Okay, now for our toppings,” Steve announced as he turned to the small bowls of topping options he’d set out, sliding them down the counter closer to the both of you. You were glad to find he hadn’t set out any meat options in the bowls as you considered the choices. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Steve walked to the fridge, pulling out a small store bought bag of mini pepperoni slices, tossing it in his hand as he strode back to your side, “I bought these, too. Just for you.”
It was comical, really, his dedication to his “vegetarian” eating habits. No animals, just people.
He opened the bag as he looked at you, offering it for you to take. You stared at his hand a moment before he spoke again. “Come on, I know you like pepperoni,” he goaded.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, grabbing the bag from his hand. You placed only a few pieces on your pizza before discarding the baggy to the side. You went back to the plethora of veggie options laid out before you and continued topping your pizza until you were satisfied.
“Done,” you smiled, turning to see Steve’s. His pizza was much the same as your own, sans the pepperoni. “Oven?” you asked.
“Would you open it for me,” he said as he took hold of the peel your pizza was on, walking behind you as you went to open the door of the oven. The heat that greeted you as you pulled it open was a welcomed warmth. You used to hate the feeling, but in this moment, you bathed in the warmth the oven offered you, the warmth you had sorely missed. Moving aside, you watched as he slid your personal size pizza onto the rectangular pizza stone before he walked his own pizza over, placing it next to yours and then shutting the oven himself. He exhaled as he turned to look at you where you were now leaning against the counter.
“Now we wait,” he announced, walking closer to you before caging you in where you stood, his arms on either side of you as he gazed down. Your eyes met his and when they did he leaned down to place a gentle kiss against your lips. His hands went from the counter to around you as he pulled you against him. Your own hands came up to his chest, not exactly pushing him away, just touching him. When he finally parted from your lips, you were able to breathe again as you let your head drop, resting against him as your hands dropped in turn.
You felt his lips press against your head softly, his arms hugging you as you let yourself relax against him. “I love you,” he murmured. You squeezed your eyes shut at that, still not used to hearing it. Even after six months, it was jarring. Though you couldn’t deny you were getting more and more used to it with each day that passed.. “We’ll have pizza, you can pick a movie, and then I have a few more things planned for tonight,” he simpered, “a few gifts for you, too.”
You pulled away from him, grimacing. “Steve, you-”
“Ah ah,” he cut you off. “No objections. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re my valentine, I want to show you how much I care for you. Besides, you’re gonna love them, I know you will,” he smirked, leaning down closer to kiss you once again. “In fact, I’ll show you your first gift now, since we’re already here.”
Your brows furrowed at that, but you followed him as he led you around the island to where the lower cupboards opened. He pulled the doors open and gestured for you to look. You eyed him warily before slowly squatting down to look inside. Your eyes rounded as you were met with a box labeled as a 15 piece bakeware set. Williams Sonoma, you breathed a soft laugh through your nose, nice. Your gaze flicked from the box, up to Steve as he smiled down at you.
“I have most tools you’d need already, but if you need anything specific, just tell me. I figured,” he offered his hand to you and you took it as you stood, “you could get back to baking. You’ve been so good, and I trust you. I want you to feel more at home here, I don’t want to have to keep you downstairs all the time. It’d be good for you to have more space, and ya know, get back to doing the things you love to do,” his hands were on your arms as he stared down at you adoringly, “I want you to be happier… You smile, but that glimmer in your eye is missing. I want it back,” he told you as he pulled you closer, bringing one hand up to caress your cheek. You blinked up at him, your hands coming up to touch his arm gently. Your lips were slightly parted as you nodded before you looked away.
“Thank you,” you breathed. “I do miss baking,” you admitted as you took a step closer to him, warily moving to wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his chest as you hugged him, lightly and cautiously at first before you melted into his warmth as he hugged you in return. “I think you’re right. It’ll be good, to be out here more. Be around you more,” you trailed off, hoping you said the right thing.
You could try and tell yourself it was just to make him happy, but there was some truth to it. You couldn’t deny that you did want to see him more. He had been around less and less the past few weeks and the solitude was going to drive you stir crazy. You hated being downstairs. Hated all the noises you couldn’t drown out no matter how hard you tried. It was quiet up here. Spacious, peaceful. And Steve was up here.
Missing someone and being dependent on someone are two different things. You tried to remind yourself of that when you’d get scared or lonely down in your room and would find yourself wanting Steve around, but the two ideas seemed to be blending into one another more and more lately. But you couldn’t try and hold onto that distinction. It made everything so much more difficult, harder to bear. Sometimes you had to drown yourself out, allow yourself to be comforted by him, to relax in this home with him. What other option did you have? Either way you were gonna go crazy and if you had to choose, you’d rather delude yourself than fall further into the sinking pit of despair that awaited you back downstairs.
“You’ve missed me?” he asked, simpering, his hands running up and down your back soothingly.
“Yes,” you murmured in response.
He pulled away from you then, his hand coming to your chin, tilting your face up to his as he smiled brightly. “Good,” his voice was deep, gravely as his eyes flitted from your own down to your lips. You leaned in before he did, your hands finding his hair, fingers threading through the brown locks as you pulled him closer, your lips pressing against his tenderly.
His hold on you was firm until you broke the kiss, taking a step back to breathe while lightly grabbing his hands in yours.
“I could.. I could bake something?” you offered, though you both knew it was more of a question, asking his permission while you worried your lip, looking up at him hopefully.
He squeezed your hand as he considered you for less than a second, “Tomorrow.”
You blinked and flitted your eyes away from his, “Okay,” you responded, giving a tight lipped smile and trying not to look so let down as you glanced back up at him. He brought up a hand to caress your cheek, “Tomorrow,” he reiterated, holding your eye as he spoke, “Now go make yourself comfortable, I’ll check the food and we can…” he trailed off as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at you. You didn’t mean to but you stiffened a bit at the idea of him being around your food without you seeing him and what he was doing.
He huffed a laugh as he watched you, “Come on, you trust me, don’t you?”
You said nothing, just kept your eyes on him.
“Trust is a two way street, sweetheart. You still can’t trust me to bring you your food but you expect me to trust you to have free reign of the house?” Your eyes widened subtly at his words…free reign? “I thought we were finally getting past all of this,” he continued.
“We are,” you interjected, “I am,” you nodded. “I trust you. I do, I trust you,” you tried to assure him, though he only stared back in response as he assessed your reaction. “Steve,” you said more calmly, gentler as you worked to keep your voice even, “if you trust me,” you grabbed his hand and took a step closer to him, “I trust you.” A smile made its way to your lips as you now caressed his cheek in your soft palm, you pulled him a bit closer as you reached up to peck him on his other cheek. Without another word you turned around and made your way into the entertainment room. You glanced over your shoulder as Steve finally turned around and walked further into the kitchen to check on the pizzas.
You realized as you sat on the couch, Steve entirely out of view, that you’d do just about anything to not have to go back downstairs again. Other parts of your brain might disagree with your thought process, but you just couldn’t take it alone down there anymore. So if all you had to do, if all he wanted from you was trust, then that’s exactly what you’d give him.
—
You sighed as you let your head rest against the feather filled pillows on Steve’s bed. The king sized mattress was like heaven beneath you. The weight of the down comforter atop you was relaxing and the feeling of the warm material against your clean, soft skin was silky and soothing.
But it wasn’t just the bed that had you feeling so good, it was the fact that you felt just a bit more free. Less of a prisoner. The shadows and haunting sounds that crept into the room downstairs at night were nowhere to be found up here. Your eyes fell shut at the peace that encompassed you for the time being.
Steve’s second gift of the night, after you’d eaten your pizza and let him hold you while you watched a movie neither of you were truly interested in, was found upstairs. He led you up the steps and then into his bedroom where a small black bag was waiting for you on the bed.
“Open it,” he gestured to the bag with a turn of his head as he pulled you further into the room. You walked to the bed and the baby blue lingerie you found staring back at you after you’d looked into the bag had you swallowing hard.
Steve’s arms came around you from behind, his chin on your shoulder before he placed a lingering kiss on the delicate skin of your neck. “Can I take a shower?” you asked delicately.
“Yeah,” he answered, “yeah, of course. Just wanna show you one more thing.”
He led you to the closet, your brows furrowed in confusion until he pulled the doors open. You turned your eyes from the clothes to Steve as he smiled. “My clothes…” you said, throat tight. “How did you, uhm,” you stopped yourself from asking the question you surely knew the answer to. He’d taken your keys, purse, everything off of you, of course he had access to your apartment. “How long have you had them?”
“A while. I’ve just been waiting until I knew you were ready to bring you up here. This is where I want you to be, it’s where you belong. With me.”
-
There was a lot you could currently be losing it about, but you had decided earlier, under the heavy stream of warm water, that you just didn’t want to think about any of it. You were tired. You didn’t have the energy to be anything but accepting. Or maybe the better word was complacent.. You laughed a bit at yourself. It didn’t matter anymore. Who cares?
At the end of the day you were stuck here, simple as that. And Steve had said it himself, he wants you to be happier. You could do that, you tried to believe it though the pit in your stomach felt otherwise.
You startled as the blanket moved from around you, your eyes shooting open in surprise.
“Just me,” Steve soothed with a gentle touch to your arm.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” you tried to explain away the flash of fear you knew he’d seen in your eyes.
“Lost in thought again, pretty girl?” he purred as he got on the bed and moved closer.
You covered yourself with your arms, trying to shrink in on yourself. He grabbed your arms and pulled them away from your body, pinning them by your head as he got on top of you. He tsked, clicking his tongue as he shook his head, “Don’t hide from me, baby. Don’t ever hide from me.”
He leaned down, taking your lips in his, kissing you fervently. He pulled away, letting his eyes drag down your body, smiling as he took in the blue lingerie. The embroidered lace and Italian silk looked just as beautiful on you as he had imagined it would. He slid his hands from your arms, letting his touch glide down your sides as he moved down your supine form. Your breath hitched, goosebumps rising under his attention. Smoothing his touch back up your waist, tickling you with his feather light graze, he kept on until he met your chest. He squeezed your breasts through the silk material of the bra, your nipples pebbling as he fondled you, before dragging his hands back down your stomach and finally hooking his fingers in the strings of the waistband of the matching panties.
Your hips raised without instruction as he slid them down, tossing them to the other side of the bed before he pulled your legs apart, his eyes dark and his gaze lecherous, but his touch still deceptively soft as his fingertips brushed up and down your thighs.
You watched him through heavy lids, your breathing a bit harder than normal as you waited in anticipation. Slowly he brought himself closer to where you both wanted him to be. You whimpered pathetically when you felt his warm breath on your glistening folds, and gasped again as his tongue dragged up your slit, moaning as he flicked it against your clit, playing you so perfectly. You couldn’t say you didn’t want it. In fact, you longed for it. Just to be able to revel in the pleasure he’d give you and forget about all the bad, forget where you were and why. To be completely uninhibited, at least for the time being.
Steve’s tongue was firm against your cunt as he continued lapping at you while you writhed under him. So much so that he had to grip your hip to keep you still while he worked on you. You exhaled sharply and made a strangled noise when he decided to delve into your slick entrance, working his tongue in and out of you as your fingers wound in his hair, urging him on.
He growled against you as he ate you out hungrily. His free hand came from around your thigh to your dripping entrance as he moved his mouth back to your clit. Two of his fingers played with your wetness before sinking knuckle deep inside of you, massaging you teasingly until he found your g-spot, rubbing repeatedly over the spongy spot in a come hither motion, coaxing you closer and closer to your high. You felt that ever familiar tightening in your lower belly, your walls clenching around Steve’s fingers greedily. Your eyes squeezed shut and you swore you saw stars as he sucked on your clit, your hand mindlessly pulling on his hair as you finally shattered. His name left your mouth repeatedly amidst your moans and hushed curses while you dissolved into pleasure beneath him.
He worked you through your orgasm before pulling away, licking his lips wolfishly as he leaned over you. “Good girl,” he purred, brushing his lips against yours. “Taste fucking amazing,” he continued before taking your lips in his hungrily, letting his tongue dip inside your mouth as you moaned.
Your eyes were closed again when he pulled away from you as you caught your breath, letting your body relax until you felt prodding against your folds. Your hazy eyes opened to find Steve between your legs again, his erect cock in his hand as he ran the tip of himself up and down your slit teasingly. You mewled as he rubbed at your puffy clit with the head of his dick, he was breathing heavily as he stared down at your already messy sex, a smug smirk on his lips before he lined himself up with your hole, pressing into you slowly, a shaky mewl leaving you on an exhale as Steve moaned at the feeling of your warm, wet walls taking him in. He leaned over you then, sliding deeper inside of you as he brought himself face to face with you, his eyes never leaving your own. He held himself up above you on one arm, the other holding your hip as he watched your face, loving the way your lips parted in a gentle “o” as he nestled himself inside of you. When his hips were flush against yours, his cock filling your pussy full, he rolled his hips against you expertly, earning a deep moan from you as he continued stoking the fire within you, sending sparks through you as he stimulated your clit with each roll of his hips, slow and deep strokes as you took every inch. You grabbed onto him, one arm around his back and the other finding his hair, pulling him closer to you as you hitched one leg around him, grinding up against him to meet his movements. “Yes,” your voice rose unbidden in a breathless moan. His face was in your neck, nipping and sucking bruises into the soft flesh as he fucked you. You babbled as he began pounding into you, the pressure compounding in your core. You were so close already. Steve moaned in your ear, praises grunted through grit teeth as he ground himself against you. You groaned, murmuring in pleasure as your foot flexed against his ass, urging him deeper. He was hitting all your sweet spots and you knew he knew what he was doing as he smiled against your skin when you mewled.
“Steve,” you moaned pathetically, “please, please, please,” you cried as your face screwed up in pleasure from his relentless thrusts. Your nails sunk into his back as your walls were snug around him.
“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed. “Feels good, huh. Always take me so well, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re squeezin me so tight,” he huffed, “Know you wanna come, baby, I know what you need. I’ll give it to you,” he promised with another roll of his hips as you arched into him with a strangled whimper.
His presence was suffocating you, his being nearly swallowing you entirely as you lost yourself to him - and you couldn’t bring yourself to care in the slightest. The sinful fullness in your core and the sparks that flew inside and all over you as he fucked you, playing your body perfectly, his whimpers and moans and curses sounding in your ear and floating along your skin, the feeling of his strong body against yours had you tumbling head first into your second orgasm as you held onto him for dear life, trying to keep him as close to you as you could in your euphoria. A high pitched gasp escaping you as your walls constricted around him, moans spilling from your lips as you milked his cock and he once again brought you over the edge. Electricity surged through you, you felt your nerve endings light up in pure delight as he kept his pace, only faltering for a moment but determined to prolong your pleasure for as long as he could manage.
“Ahh fuck,” he hissed as you clenched down on his cock, your legs twitching around him and heavy breaths falling from his lips as he puffed, trying not to lose himself just yet. “God, you’re so good,” he grunted, “so fucking good,” he praised as he rode you through your high, his thumb stroking your skin gently as he braced your hip. The stark contrast in his touch stirring something in you even as his hips began losing their rhythm as he chased his own high.
“‘M close, baby,” he whined. “Fuck, I’m gonna give it to you, gonna fill you so fuckin full of me.
Tell me you want it.
Tell me you fuckin want it,” he husked darkly.
“Want it,” you murmured. A low growl and a tight squeeze on your hip had you speaking up again.
“Please, Steve, I want it,” you keened.
The feeling of you squeezing him, holding onto him so tightly, your soft body pressed to his, your whines of pleasure filling the air and mingling with the obscene sounds of him fucking you, the way you moaned his name, all of it suddenly had his eyes screwed shut as he tensed, grunting and puffing as he shot his load, his spend filling you up as his cock pulsed inside of you. The deep, throaty growl he unleashed as he came sent an unexpected wave of arousal through you as he thrust into you once, twice more before he finally collapsed on top of you. Rolling over and taking you with him, you both worked to catch your breath as you came down. You laid your head on his chest as his hands ran soothingly up and down your skin. No words were exchanged from either of you as you laid there, only a content, satisfied sigh coming from Steve. When he finally pulled out of you, you could feel his spend sticky on your skin and grimaced at the feeling, gingerly moving to climb off the bed as you spoke.
“Is it okay if I use the bathroom?”
“Yeah,” he answered, getting up after you, “I’m gonna shower, actually.”
You didn’t say anything as he followed you into the bathroom, coming up behind you and letting his hand graze from your hip, along your back as he made his way further in to the shower. You stood in front of the mirror, just out of his sight, as you stared at the reflection you found there. It was you, but it wasn’t.. You found yourself tracing your figure, lingering on the imperfections that made you you, and then on the marks that were left on your body tonight. The light scratches, the soft bite marks, the subtle bruises you could feel forming even now.. Everything that made you his.
“Why don’t you join me,” Steve’s voice broke through your trance as you blinked away from the reflection. You knew it wasn’t so much an invitation as it was his way of telling you to join him. There was no room for argument so you made your way over to him. Stepping into the already steaming shower, the warmth was just as nice as the first time, the steady stream just as soothing. It was so easy to stop worrying - to not have to think. And as Steve’s arms wrapped around you and his head fell to the crook of your neck, peppering kisses along your skin, your lashes fluttered shut as you relaxed against him.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin before whispering a gentle “I love you,” against your temple, his lips pressing against you.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve,” you breathed.
Nearly an hour later, you found yourself back in his bed, being held in his embrace, nestled under the covers as you mindlessly nuzzled into his bare chest. It wasn’t long before you felt your eyelids begin to grow heavier and heavier, eventually fluttering shut.
Vaguely, you were aware that you were slipping completely, but it was too late to stop the fall. Not that you’d even dare to try. Not anymore.
#steve kemp x curvy!reader#steve kemp x plus size!reader#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x you#soft!dark steve kemp#dark!steve kemp#steve kemp drabble#steve kemp fanfic#steve kemp fic#valentine's day drabble#i gotta be honest guys…#i’m kinda over this whole writing thing lol
276 notes
·
View notes
Text
Obsession | Steve Kemp
Pairing | Steve Kemp x dark!reader
Warning | 18+, Dark themes, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, a shitty ex-boyfriend, mentions of stalking, mentions of vandalism, mentions of assault, gaslighting, manipulation. Steve Kemp (he’s a warning on his own!)
Summary | When you have a chance encounter with Steve, you wonder who he actually is.
Word Count | 1614
A/N | So, I wanted to dabble into writing dark fics with dark!reader and what better character than Steve Kemp (my husband) to write it out!! Surprise, this is also the first chapter of my first series!! I got inspired by @extremelyblackandwhite and it gave me an idea to write for it as well. Beta’d by the lovely @lunarbuck, but all mistakes are my own. Banner & divider made by @vase-of-lilies. If y’all enjoy it, leave some feedback, comment and reblog. I’d really appreciate it!! 💗
Masterlist | Obsession - Steve Kemp series
‘You’re an obsession, you’re my obsession. Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me?’ - Animotion
It was early afternoon when you entered your local bookshop, taking in the sight of the wooden bookshelves as you smelled the scent of old yet valuable paper and books. It’s your safe haven amongst the turbulence you experienced several years ago.
The second you laid eyes on him in your local bookshop, you knew that he was the one. The stranger is handsome and exactly your type. There's something intriguing about him, an all encompassing energy that surrounds him. And you couldn’t help but be entranced by it. There’s an aura of mystery and magnetism that inexplicably pulls you towards him as your eyes drift to his tall frame. He picks up several books and flips through the pages of it on the wooden shelves, moving from aisle to aisle. You subtly follow the stranger around until he reaches the classics where you’ve also been to check out.
He halts when he makes it to the letter B, his eyes roaming from side to side around on the high shelf. You’re amazed with how he’s dressed and the way he looks. His dark brown hair is neatly combed and properly parted to the side. He’s wearing a pink sweater with a brown jacket on top combined with some jeans. It seems like he is looking for a specific book. The handsome stranger picks up Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë from the high shelf near the beginning of the aisle.
Since the breakup with your ex-boyfriend, something has snapped within you. You can’t really explain what it is, but you always feel the need to be around someone, to know every single detail of their life and what they’re doing to cease the loneliness in your heart. It’s a curiosity that morbidly hinges on being intrusive and obsessive, that’s how you like to recall it. It’s been two years since you had seen him. During the breakup, an altercation ensued that led you to key his car and slash his tires out of vengeance. You didn’t stop there, you regularly stop by his apartment to ‘check’ in on him and trash his place. You’ve also tracked his whereabouts and followed him from behind, a few feet away just to see his reaction as you smiled and played dumb by telling him that it’s ‘just a coincidence’ that you bumped into him. Because your ex-boyfriend was, frankly, an asshole. Maybe, this was the kind of revenge that you needed to act out on; as payback for going through the assault that you endured with him during the five years you’d been together. In your eyes, he deserves it. You reported him many times before to the police and he was arrested with multiple charges on his part.
Your ex didn’t report you to the cops because every time he attempted to; you just put on your act as the civilized and innocent ex-girlfriend who was always the victim to his horrible actions.
“No sir, that’s ridiculous! I might be his ex-girlfriend, but I’m not capable of doing such horrendous things. I don’t even have the strength to slash his tires out. I understand that I broke up with him due to his cruel actions, but he just can’t accept that. And now, he’s taking it out on me by constantly harassing me. Check his record, he has various charges, and I’m afraid that he’ll do something to me that could bring my life into mortal peril.”
“Oh sorry, Miss! I didn’t know that. Do you want to file a restraining order against him?”
“Yes, I’d like that sir. Thank you so much!”
“Okay, that’s settled. We’ll add harassment to his record too.”
“Thank you for helping me out, sir. I appreciate that a lot.”
“No problem, Miss.”
Some things are better left unsaid. You physically moved on but you mentally aren’t able to until something or someone else came along. And luckily for you, it has.
While you’re drooling over the guy standing right next to you, you remember you’re in search of a book of your own, Persuasion by Jane Austen. But it’s on the top shelf next to him, and you aren’t able to reach it. You take a look at the man, with the book neatly tucked underneath his arm.
I gotta have him!
“You don’t strike me as the type of guy to read books by Emily Brontë,” you initiate softly with a sweet angelic tone towards his direction, eyeing him with a precious smile while you fixate your gaze to him, externally scanning him. His radiant blue eyes reach you and in an instant something is unlocked in you.
He chuckles softly at your statement. “You’d be surprised by my various interests then.”
“Hehe, that’s alright. It’s cool that you read classics like that. I find that very cultured of you,” you say complimenting him while you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Why, thank you. It’s not every day a beautiful person such as yourself compliments me on my taste in books.” He smiles while he looks down at the floor, seemingly abashed by your charm.
“You’re welcome and thank you, too!!” You gratefully declare as you shyly avert your eyes away toward the book you’re looking for.
“Are you getting something too?”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get to this book by Jane Austen, but I can't reach it.” You extend your arm and stand on your tiptoes to reach to the top shelf, but are unsuccessful. “I’m sorry for asking this, but could you please help me out?”
“Yes, of course! Which book is it?” He asks while looking at the shelf above him in search.
“It’s that brown leather-bound book with gold lettering embossed on it.” You inquire while you point your finger at it.
“I got you!” He extends his arm to the leather-bound book, takes it from the shelf, and hands it over to you as you take it from him.
“Thank you so much! Uhh, what’s your name?”
“Steve, I’m Steve Kemp.”
“Oh, wait… aren’t you a doctor?”
“Oh, so you heard of me? And yes, I’m a reconstructive surgeon.” He implies with a curious look in his eyes.
“Well yeah, I read a paper you wrote about the increasing trends in cosmetic surgery and its impact on the overall consciousness and self-image. It was quite interesting to read,” you answer him honestly as you tap on the cover of the book you’re holding in your hands.
“Oh, thank you. I’m so honored that my paper was read by you, a delightful soul amongst our own.” He places the palm of his hand on his chest in a lighthearted manner.
“I didn’t get your name, what can I call you?”
You tell him your name while you flatten the creases of your skirt with one hand.
“Such a beautiful name. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He sticks his hand out for you to take and then proceeds to kiss the knuckles of your tender hand.
Steve was equally enamored by you, and he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for you. Your presence and attention is like a toxic drug for him that he couldn’t get enough of. The moment he set his eyes on you, he immediately knew that you’re perfect to him. This is rare, a very rare thought for a man like him who kidnaps women, kills them, consumes them, and sells their body parts to his customers. He knows it’s unfortunate that you’ve met him, despite his instant attraction and soft spot for you. He isn’t able to subdue his appetite and is desperate to know what you taste like. He promises himself that he’ll be careful with you. So, you don’t have to suffer mentally. It’ll be quick and painless. He can have it all with you, he’s sure of it.
“Do you live around here? Because I live on aisle 6, in the crime and thriller section. I just come to the classic book section and talk to random, very good-looking people that stand next to it.”
You chuckle in your head at his joke as you tilt your head sideways and contort your face a little, withholding a smile.
“That was terrible,” he states out loud, self-loathing clearly eminent in his voice.
You think his awkwardly charming behavior was cute at first, but since you have a PhD in Psychology, you don’t trust someone and their intentions so quickly anymore. Therefore you hold your guard up. You need to find out who he actually is and what he’s like. The real Steve.
“Yeah, it was kind of terrible.”
“I’m so sorry.” He immediately said as he started to back off.
“It’s fine.” You reply, while you wave your hand dismissively.
“Have a good afternoon.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Just as he is about to walk away from you, he suddenly turns around as if he has changed his mind. “You know what? Fuck it, I’m already ruining this, so I’m just gonna keep going. Do you think I can have your number?”
“Oh, yeah sure!” You answer enthusiastically in a cheerful tone.
Yes!
You exchange your number with him as he does with you.
“And as a last token of my appreciation towards you, I want to gift you that book you’re holding,” Steve answers casually.
“What? No, Steve. You don’t need to do that!”
“But I want to,” he replies as he looks at the title of your book.
“Persuasion by Jane Austen, huh,” he pauses as his shimmering eyes look at you, intrigue and awe glimmering in his gaze as if you’re the only one for him. “Well, you certainly persuaded me.”
@superdcchick @hallecarey1
#thebluemage writes#thebluemage writings#mage writes#mage writings#steve kemp#steve kemp x dark!reader#steve kemp x female reader#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x you#steve kemp x y/n#steve kemp fanfiction#brendan steven kemp#brendan steven kemp x dark!reader#brendan steven kemp x reader#brendan steven kemp fanfiction#obsession#obsession au#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan x y/n#sebastian stan fanfiction#fanfiction#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction
225 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing
Pairing: Dark!Steve Kemp x F!Reader
Word Count: 2.6k
Summary: It was an art - one that took many years and many sacrifices to perfect, and Steve had managed to become a master at it. There was just one thing he would not fully commit to sacrificing, at least not the important parts that kept life essence flowing: you.
Warnings: THIS IS A DARK FIC - PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - dead dove, kidnapping, mentions of smut (p in v), fingering and oral (fem receiving), implied non-con, degradation, restraints, physical abuse (face slapping), cannibalism (it’s Steve kemp what did you expect?), force feeding, hints of Stockholm syndrome?
A/N: Unbeta’d | dividers created by @rookthorne thank you for also helping me with the summary my love 🥰 | this oneshot was inspired by the lovely @smutconnoisseur who made me this absolutely stunning moodboard 😭 I just knew I had to write something as soon as I saw it. Thank you so much sweetie, loves you the most 🥹
“Let me go, you fucking psycho!”
Steve merely kept on humming to himself, happily slicing the meat in front of him into finely cut pieces. It took severe attention to detail to finesse the glide of the knife just right, cutting through as smooth as butter.
It had taken quite a long time to get his craft on the line of perfection - years in the making - and now that he’d finally mastered the art, it was as easy as riding a bike. The rush of adrenaline spiking his nerves gave him a hit unlike anything else in his life. This was what he was meant for. He’d wasted so much time not giving in before.
Wooden screeching against the floor snapped him out of his inner musings, eyes lifting up to see you fidgeting in your chair - presumably trying to escape, but the chains attached to your feet would keep you rooted.
Steve couldn’t help but notice how the glow of the candlelight surrounding you on the dinner table highlighted the beauty in the features of your face. Sunset orange dancing among the shadows, defining your cheekbones and your shoulders decorated in the straps of a pretty dress.
You were so beautiful. Perfect for him.
Placing the meat onto a skillet to cook, Steve wiped his hands and rounded the corner of the kitchen island to join you, the sudden bravado you had earlier evaporating while terror took over your body. His cock shouldn’t have gotten hard seeing the tears gathering on your lash line, but those glassy eyes reminded him of a deer in fright, ready to run. And fuck, would he love the chase.
“Bambi… join me.”
It was haunting, the kind smile Steve let loose as he held out his hand to you after arriving by your side. No wasn’t an answer, and you did well to stand up on your shaky legs - from still recovering or fear, he wasn’t sure - quietly proud of you either way.
Flashbacks of you clumsily tripping over the bed to go relieve yourself on the toilet crossed his mind as he brought you to the middle of the living room. After fucking you three times in one night, leaving you screaming his name and begging for more each time, he couldn’t help be prideful watching you stumble your way out of the room. Just like a doe learning to walk for the first time.
Of course, the chains rattling with each step you took while limping weren’t part of the memory. The heavy breaths were familiar though, smirk crawling onto his face as he imagined your adorable squeaks while he ate your cunt like he was man starved.
Once Steve had directed you into the middle of the living room rug, he brought you closer to him, slipping his arm over your waist as you flinched, and grabbing your other hand to hold as he began to slowly dance. He was thoughtful enough to keep his steps light and be extra careful with you.
Deciding it was too much of a distraction for you a long time ago, Steve had decided to forego music in the house - it let your mind switch off and he wanted your brain alert… in the present. Solely on him and every move he made. So, he graced you with his singing voice instead, whispering the lyrics to ‘Restless Heart’ in your ear.
Steve felt the shaking of your chest before your uncontrollable sobs cut through his singing. He’d be offended had he no clue how scared his Bambi was.
“What’s wrong, Bambi? Huh? Don’t you like it here with me?”
“I w-want to go h-home.” You stuttered.
Steve sighed and lifted your head up with his palms, kissing your forehead and leaning down to your watery eyeline to speak to you directly.
“Oh, baby…” his condescending tone gave away his faux concern for you, “you know I can’t let you do that.”
You began to heave, breaths coming in fast and heavy with panic - Steve almost felt a crack in his heart. Almost.
Truth be told, Steve knew you were it for him. Ever since he first saw you from the corner of his eye walking down the fruit and vegetable aisle, he’d been bewitched.
Youthful, tight skin, good looking.
You ticked all the boxes for him… and the rest of his client base.
He’d caught other women before - gorgeous, just the right amount of meat on their thighs to keep the buyers happy.
They were good. However, they didn’t compare to you.
Normally, Steve would be excited to find new prey. The cat and mouse play of picking out women to cut up and sell. But, you were different. Steve wanted you all for himself.
See, you weren’t just a pretty face, you were witty, funny, intelligent - maybe not smart enough to see what was coming, but he didn’t hold that against you, he was just too conniving after all.
And those goddamn dates he took you on, paving the path for his plan to come to fruition, when he found himself enjoying your company. Steve wanted to spend all of his time with you, willingly.
That was when he decided he didn’t want to go along with his usual plans. Instead, he wanted to date you. See where this relationship could go.
So, he took you to his house tucked away in a secluded area - the excuse of wanting a weekend without the modern world bothering you in disguise of your questioning to the lack of signal or Wi-Fi.
Honestly, he didn’t initially plan to drug you. The opportunity just… sprung onto him. Too tempting to not listen to his base instincts and ignore the spiked wine hidden in the alcohol cabinet.
A voice in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t be doing that, he vividly remembered it. The urge to get a kick out of his charades with someone as good as you overpowered it, though.
Steve wasn’t proud of himself afterwards, but how could he be blamed? He’d worked out a successful routine before he stumbled on you. Wooing girls fitting his mental meat quality checklist and eventually luring them into his second home. It was only natural to follow his instincts, what he’d made of himself.
You especially weren’t happy when you found yourself on his home operating table, opening your eyes to realise your boyfriend was taking your ass.
Weirdly, he didn’t find guilt in the thrill he took from that - that seemed to sicken you the most. He remembered how you lunged for him, screaming about the insanity of his pleasures when you woke up after the surgery to find him sitting in your caged prison. Cutting into your delicate skin to watch the stream of blood flow down your rump to then hearing him laughing to himself as he showed you the flesh stolen away from your body had your head spinning - dangling it from his fingers in front of your face.
It wasn’t too long after that you passed out from overexertion. If only you knew the way he used you to take care of himself after that.
It may have been confusing to understand, but Steve genuinely thought the world of you. Those few months of dating spent together changed his mind on whether he’d find a companion ever again.
Finding love alongside Steve’s hobby had been difficult to put it lightly. His first wife knew of his side activities coinciding with his doctoral career. That was why he settled being with her, someone who was accepting of who he was. But, although she may have put up with what he was doing, she didn’t initiate that spark within Steve - that buried, deep seated fire that begged to be set free. Steve wanted to be seen, to be loved in his entirety.
There was no shame in that.
That was what led to the downfall of his marriage, Steve was no longer interested in the farce of keeping up appearances with a woman who didn’t truly understand him. Which is why she had to go. Just divorcing wasn’t an option, she knew too much.
Then came along you. His pretty doe, who captured his heart from a glance.
As your hysteria whittled on, Steve hugged you tight to his chest.
He’d kept you here for a month in total now. Four glorious weeks of spending time with you alone, bonding together. Your feistiness only made his cock grow in his slacks whenever you put up a fight.
His little doe didn’t put out easy - just how he liked it.
As your tears continued to soak his dress shirt further, he shushed your cries, keeping you close and he swayed side to side in comfort.
The beeping of the oven hob, interrupted Steve’s attempt at soothing you. The meat was cooked and it was time to plate up the dinner he’d made for the two of you.
Bringing you away from his chest, Steve smoothed your hair behind your ears, wiping his thumbs under your swollen eyes to get rid of your tears. Holding your arm, he again directed you back towards the table to sit down, clamped your hands back into the cuffs attached before walking towards the kitchen.
Peaking over, Steve noticed you had calmed down and collected yourself by the time he was adding the peppermint sauce over the mashed potatoes and meat.
He had high hopes on your opinion of his cooking, what you thought mattered to him, believe it or not. It was his real passion beside becoming a plastic surgeon, and he wanted you of all people to like it.
Gracefully, Steve walked on over with his finished plates and set one on each placemat. Your head was bowed, eyes set on the meal set in front of you.
“What is it?”
Your mousy voice spoke up and had Steve looking down at you, lifting your chin up with two fingers so he could see your face.
“Your favourite, sweetheart. Steak and mashed potato.”
A shudder racked through your body as Steve smirked, dropping your face and grabbing the large napkin to fan out over your thighs. He smoothed the material over your legs and traced the tips of his fingers along your bare skin. The sight of you inching away didn’t sit well with Steve, pinching you to hear that familiar yelp he loved so much.
He began to get settled in his seat, combing his styled hair back with his fingers before beginning to cut up the meat on his plate.
“You remember our dinner date don't you, baby? You ordered the exact same thing when the waiter asked. Poor boy couldn’t keep his eyes to himself when I made you speak as I fucked you with my fingers.”
Steve knows you didn’t want him to hear the gasp that couldn’t be kept in. Adorable. You were still so shy around him.
But he didn’t appreciate how long your silence lingered, looking up to see you still staring down at your food, untouched.
The knife clashing down on the plate made you jump in your seat. You didn’t want to eat, no bother. Steve would help you.
Stabbing a cut of meat with his fork, Steve carefully leaned over the table to hold the steak up to your mouth for you to take a bite.
“Open up, my little doe.”
Steve saw your mouth opening up, happy to see you were cooperating with his request. You were finally making progress. Only for you to suddenly move your head to the side as he got close and bite down onto his hand, hard.
The fury built up in Steve as he snatched his hand away, fork scattering onto the table as he released it. In instant retaliation, Steve backhanded you across the face, sending your head whipping over to the side as blood spurted out your mouth.
“Bad girl.”
Blood from the force of his hit trickled down the corner of your mouth. You hadn’t moved from your spot for a second before Steve grabbed the front of your neck, bringing you closer over the table and ignoring your squeak of pain.
“Now, eat what I so graciously cooked you before I fucking force it down your throat.” His spit from the anger of his voice shot out onto your face. Steve shoved you back before slumping into his own seat once again.
His hot and cold nature always had you on edge, but you were used to it by now. Is that what he really deserved after being so thoughtful to you?
Steve observed you closely. Watching your every move should you try something like that again. Only would you get away with something like that once.
You picked up the fork dropped, meat still intact on the silverware and inspected it thoroughly. He knew you were looking for hints of poison or something that indicated he’d drugged you. He threatened it enough times for you to be wary.
He wasn’t sure what you would have preferred once you found out.
Opening your mouth, you placed the meat tenderly onto your tongue and closed to begin eating.
Steve waited until you had swallowed. Intently watching you chew before you were finished with your bite. He gave it a second before sitting back up, taking the fork from you and stabbing another piece, ready to start his meal.
Not before letting you in on his secret ingredient. “I always said you tasted good, didn’t I, Bambi?”
Cold dread visibly washed over your face as you went deadly quiet. Your hands began to abnormally shake. Steve just sat there and watched as your body went into emotional turmoil.
There wasn’t much you could have done, chained to the table, hyperventilating. It wasn’t even as if you could have stuck your fingers down your throat to throw it back up, fingers too far out of reach to even try. It didn’t stop you from dry heaving over the side of the table, retching loudly.
Eventually, the panic your body sent you in, along with your howling cries from despair allowed you to get worked up enough to throw up. Regurgitated meat mixed with bile landing on the carpet as Steve carried on eating - unfazed.
It took you a while for your body to finally relax, for your mind to comprehend what Steve just made you do. Sweat dripped down your face as you forced your body back upright, too weak to fully keep your eyes open as you hoarsely spoke.
“Why are you doing this?”
You looked defeated, body slumped with dark circles under your eyes, shivering like Steve hadn’t cranked the heating up.
Steve wiped his mouth. He understood you were an acquired taste, not for the lightheaded - you’d get used to it eventually though. He thought you were delicious, cleaning up his plate entirely.
He looked directly into your eyes after he finished eating, voice devoid of emotion. “Isn’t it obvious? I love you.”
Your reply is instant “No, you don’t.”
Darkness blackered his pupils. Body still and uptight as he went still. Steve pushed his plate away and leaned his forearms onto the table, never stopping staring as you squirmed in your seat.
“Don’t you ever question my love for you again. Do you hear me?”
You swallowed the presumed lump in your throat.
Steve couldn’t understand how you didn’t know how much he cared for you. You were here, eating in his dining room. He’d sacrificed customer sales by keeping you to himself. He loved you. You’d understand one day though. He’d make sure of it.
“Give it time, Bambi. I know you’ll learn to love me back.”
“And if I don’t?” There was one last inch of life in your eyes, a thin thread of hope holding on for dear life. Steve could see it clear as day, the embers in your irises dying out with each moment he took to answer.
He knew he had you then, the gut punch of his response blowing out the flame once and for all.
“Funny… you think you have a choice.”
#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x female reader#steve kemp x f!reader#steve kemp smut#dark!steve kemp#dark!steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x y/n#Steve kemp x reader smut#dark!Steve kemp x f!reader#dark!steve kemp x y/n#dark!steve kemp x reader smut#dark Steve kemp#Steve kemp x you
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
OBSESSION - Steve Kemp, Part Two
Part two!! Welcome back guys :) Make sure to leave a vote/reblog/comment. It really helps!!
Five months into her best friend’s disappearance, (Y/N) meets someone new, and for the first time in months she feels as if she can finally breathe again. She never thought she’d become the newest obsession of a charming psychopathic cannibal.
- WARNING(S): NON-CON/DUB-CON, grief, drug abuse, kidnapping, Steve Kemp is a red flag himself, cannibalism, manipulation, blood
The car was silent, the heater the only source of noise between us. I fiddled awkwardly with the hem of my sweater, the purse in my lap. One of Steve’s hands held the wheel of his car, the other holding his half-finished cup of coffee, and he sipped at it, his eyes on the road.
From outside my window, I could see it had started to snow, and a thick white blanket began to slowly but surely coat the city's roads. It was pretty, but I shivered at the thought of walking to and from work in this weather.
I hated the cold.
“Thanks again for giving me a ride,” I broke the silence, eyes shifting to the man beside me. “I really appreciate it.”
He turned, grinning at me. “No trouble, (Y/N). The city can be dangerous, ‘specially for pretty girls like you.”
I blushed, turning away from the man to look back outside the window, hiding my face. He seemed to notice this and groaned. “I shouldn’t have said that, I was just meaning that— well, you’re pretty, and obviously it’s really late and—“ he shook his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Jesus, I’m just gonna stop talking now.”
I smiled at his awkward nature, my teeth nipping at my inner cheek. It was cute, the way he got embarrassed. He seemed awkward, and part of me liked it. “It’s fine,” I assured quietly. “I just…I don’t know how to handle compliments.”
He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
I nodded. “I just don’t get very many, I suppose. They make me nervous.”
He hummed quietly, his brows furrowed as he stared ahead. “You—you don’t get any?” He sounded surprised, almost as if he were in disbelief, and I shrugged.
“I keep to myself,” I said simply, and his eyes flickered towards me briefly before quickly moving back to the road.
“I don’t see how,” he began, taking another sip of his coffee. “You’re definitely the cutest barista I’ve ever seen.”
I flushed red once more, an embarrassed laugh escaping me. “You’re just a charmer, aren’t you?”
He smirked, tilting slightly. “Guilty as charged.”
“Oh hey, you missed my turn, Steve,” I quickly pointed out just as we passed by the turnoff to my apartment.
Before getting into his car, he had told me he knew the city like the back of his hand, and I furrowed my brows, nipping at my bottom lip nervously.
“Oh, we did…” He replied, turning behind him to cast a quick glance to where we were supposed to have turned. “I know another way, don’t worry,” he said, turning to cast a charming smile.
I nodded slowly, my hands coming to grip my purse tightly. Part of me knew it was nerves. Afterall, I hadn’t been alone with a man since the summer of my senior year in college. The bundle of anxiety chewed the inside of my stomach.
What if Steve was a murderer? Was he going to take me and kill me? Was he going to kidnap me?
Suddenly, I remembered the paper on my medication bottle.
Paranoia was a side effect of my meds.
I took a deep breath, my eyes falling shut.
Steve isn’t going to kill me, I tried reasoning with myself. Steve seemed like a genuinely nice man. He was awkward and nervous and good looking. Creeps weren’t good looking.
Right?
I looked over at him, his handsome face concentrated on the road as he drove, his other hand gripping his coffee. He had mentioned he was a doctor, and that he had files to look over tonight. In the back, a stack of files sat, a thick yellow folder with a patient's name being all the proof that I needed to know he wasn’t lying.
Creeps weren’t doctors.
The silence in the car seemed to go on and on, and part of me yearned for him to break it.
Opening my mouth to speak, I quickly shut it when I realized I truly had nothing to say. Instead, I continued fiddling with my purse, every so often glancing over to the doctor beside me.
After a couple minutes, he seemed to catch up on this, and he turned to send me a quick look. “Do I have something on my face?”
I smiled, shaking my head with pink tinted cheeks.
“Just can’t get enough of me, can you,” he winked, a laugh leaving his lips.
“Dear god, just keep your eyes on the road, okay?” I giggled, rolling my eyes.
It was about another five minutes of driving before we turned onto a familiar street, and I breathed a small sigh of relief.
It had just been my paranoia.
See? Steve was a nice man.
“It’s this unit right here,” I smiled, and his car came to a stop outside the building, putting it into park.
Neither of us made a move.
Sitting in silence for a couple seconds, I picked up my purse, bringing it against my chest and hugging it, turning to face the man beside me.
He was already looking at me, his blue eyes soft and inviting. Even in the darkness of the car, they seemed to glow.
“Well, um,” I coughed awkwardly, brushing hair from my face. “Thanks for the ride.”
He smiled in response, nodding once, placing his coffee cup into his cup holder.
“Well, uh, I should…I’m just gonna go. Have a good night, Steve.” I smiled, my hand reaching to open the door.
When he said nothing, I hopped out, letting it shut behind me.
Snow fell around me, and suddenly, I longed to be back in Steve’s warm car. I shivered as I wrapped my jacket tighter around me, blinking away the snow from my lashes as I hurried up the sidewalk.
Just as my hand hovered over my building's door handle, a voice called from behind me, and I turned, squinting my eyes to see through the snow.
“Wait, (Y/N)!”
“Steve?” I called back, confused. “What-?”
Finally, Steve reached me, panting and drenched in snow. “I” he breathed heavily, “I’m gonna regret it so much if I don’t. Can I please have your number?” He held his phone out, lips parted as he scanned my shocked face. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again. I don’t wanna wait too long.”
Wiping snow from my frost-nipped face, I breathed a laugh, nodding my head quickly and taking his phone. My heart fluttered as I punched in my number, a handsome grin adoring his face. Handing back his phone, he took a glance at it before switching it off.
My breaths blew out in puffs of smoke, and I licked my chapped lips.
“I’ll text you,” he promised, watching as I pushed open the door of my apartment unit.
“You better,” I mumbled, flustered. “I’ll see you later, Steve.”
With a final smile, I let the door shut behind me, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I was once again greeted with the heater of the apartment lobby. Rushing upstairs and into my own apartment, I locked the door, a huge smile on my face.
I felt giddy, and I couldn’t stop myself from giggling at the thought of Steve. The way he had run into the snow after me, just to get my number.
I blushed at the thought.
Moving to my nightstand, I picked up my medication, quickly grabbing two from the bottle and shoving them into my mouth, swallowing them dry.
I quickly changed into my PJ’s, brushing my teeth and putting my tangled hair up.
Throwing myself onto the bed, I stared up at the roof, and soon, I found myself drifting to sleep, Steve on my mind.
————————————
It was only a few days later that Steve and I had our first date. It had been his idea that we have a picnic under the night sky.
It was a cute idea that I loved, so I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
He had come to my place around eight that night, a bag full of groceries and an expensive bottle of wine. Together, we put together sandwiches and other types of food before getting into his car and making our way to a park nearby.
So, here we sat, a blanket the only barrier between our bodies and the damp grass beneath us. It was cold, but we were prepared. A thick blanket covered each of our bodies on top of jackets and mittens. The cold was strong, but so was our ambition for seeing the stars.
Already on my second glass of wine, I sipped carefully, watching as my breath turned to smoke. Though it was below thirty degrees that night, I could hardly feel it thanks to the blankets and jackets that surrounded me.
Steve sat beside me, his chin lifted as he looked up at the dark sky above us. His eyes gleamed, taking in the beauty of the stars. Slowly, I did the same, staring up into the abyss.
It was truly beautiful.
“Do you see that one there?” Steve asked, his finger lifting to point to a constellation.
I glimpsed where he was pointing, my gaze falling on a clump of stars. I nodded, humming as I took another sip.
“That one’s Leo. The stars take the shape of a lion.” His finger drifted over to another bundle of stars. “Then there’s the Ursa Major. Over there is Cassiopeia.” His hand moved over once more, finger pointed. “This one’s my favorite— the Orion.”
I licked my wine stained lips, the cold nipping at them as I looked towards Orion, amazement gleaming in my eyes.
“In Greek Mythology, Orion was a hunter, just about the fiercest hunter ever. Achilles is the most well known Greek warrior, but I’ve always thought Orion was the greatest.”
I turned to look at him, eyes drinking in the man before me. He stared up at the sky, and suddenly, his eyes flickered to meet my own. I blushed, quickly turning away and taking the last sip of my wine. I didn’t miss the way he smiled in adoration.
“Are you going to have another glass?” I asked, eyeing what was left of the wine.
“Mmhm. It’s all yours. One of us has to drive tonight,” he teased, picking up the bottle and pouring me the last of its contents. I giggled, the alcohol making me feel warm and less awkward.
I liked this version of me.
Bringing the glass back to my lips, he watched me closely as I took another sip, and I looked at him, almost choking on the liquid. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said, flustered. “It makes me feel nervous.”
“I make you feel nervous?” He pressed, a teasing smirk resting on his face. He took a grape from the bowl of fruit, popping it into his mouth.
I snorted at his cocky attitude. “Maybe…just a little bit.” I held my fingers up to show him the amount he made me nervous, and he raised his dark brows.
“Just a little?”
“Mmhmm,” I confirmed, snacking on a strawberry.
His gaze lingered on my face, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He hummed, eyes scanning each detail of my face before flickering them back up to the sky. Suddenly, his hand gently pushed my shoulder, his finger flying backup to point to something in the sky. “Quick, look! It’s a shooting star.”
I glanced upwards, and sure enough, a shooting star passed over our heads.
“Make a wish,” he urged, looking back down towards me.
Quickly, my eyes fell shut, and I tried to find something I truly wanted in life.
A face flashed before my eyes, and my heart fluttered at the familiar warm eyes that once lit up my life.
My wish was decided.
Finally opening my eyes, Steve was still looking at me, his features soft. I smiled gently, taking one last sip of wine from my cup.
He shifted himself on the blanket, leaning to lay down and stare up at the sky. I followed suit, hugging the blanket closer to me.
“Tell me about your family, (Y/N),” he said quietly, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked upwards, his gaze observing the stars above us.
I forced a tight-lipped smile. “I grew up in the foster care system, so, I don’t really know much about them, honestly.”
“Oh,” he mumbled quickly. “I didn’t mean to-“
“It’s fine,” I giggled. “I don’t really mind not having a family. Definitely saves me from the family drama.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re telling me.” He adjusted himself on the blanket once more, arms coming to rest behind his head. “What about your friends?”
I bit my inner cheek. “I don’t really have any,” I admitted.
He turned to look at me, brows knitted together. “Not even one?”
Silently, I shook my head, ignoring his eyes on me. He looked back up at the sky.
“I had one.”
I sucked in a breath, pausing.
I didn’t really talk about Lilith. I hadn’t spoken her name since the moment everyone began to accept that she was dead and gone; however, this time, something felt right about saying her name. It felt like it would be…okay to tell her story.
To tell Lilith’s story.
“She was the only person in my life, really,” I continued, my eyes never leaving the stars above me. They seemed to urge me to speak, calling for me to continue my story.
“She went missing in May. She had told me she was going to Manhattan for a doctor's appointment, but I knew she was lying. My birthday was that Friday, and we had been in Manhattan together a couple weeks before.” I sighed sadly at the memory of Lilith and I walking the streets, glancing into the windows and gazing at expensive gifts we longed to afford but knew we never would. “I had seen these beautiful necklaces—two of them with pink heart diamonds and gold chains. They were the most beautiful necklaces we had ever seen, and I had promised her that one day, they’d be ours.” A solemn laugh fell from my lips, and I could feel Steve’s gaze burning into my face.
I could feel tears welling in my eyes, but I blinked them away.
“She had spent the next coming weeks saving every cent of her paycheck. She had picked up so many shifts from her job that I had hardly seen her during the time between our shopping day and the day she left. I waited and waited for her to come back.” A tear slid from my glazed eyes, trailing down my face until it reached my lips, and I licked it away, a sad smile gracing my lips. “My birthday came and went. So did Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and next week, it’ll be Christmas.”
Steve was silent beside me, and I felt a warm hand caress my arm, his thumb massaging the area in comfort. Leaning up onto his arms, he leaned over me, his face contorted into a look of grief. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…I-I couldn’t even imagine-“ His hand reached up to wipe away a tear from my eye, eyes trailing up and down my face.
It was as if a boulder had been lifted from my chest, and I breathed a shaky sigh. It felt good to be comforted, to have someone to wipe away your tears. I had forgotten what it was like to have someone care, and now, as Steve’s hand brushed against my cheek, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into his touch.
His lips turned up into a gentle smile, blue eyes glistening in the moonlight.
Lilith would want me to be happy. That was all she had ever wanted for me in life, so wouldn’t she want the same in death?
Death.
All these months, I had been fighting the idea that Lilith was dead, battling a war in my mind that so desperately ached to see her again. When you’re alone, it’s easy to hyperfixate on daydreams, to fill your head with delusions and convince yourself that things aren’t the way they truly are.
Lilith was gone. My best friend was dead, and no amount of sulking and isolating myself was going to change that. No amount of depriving myself with human connection was going to bring her back.
Staring into his blue eyes awoke something in me. Staring into his blue eyes made me realize what I was missing in life. It made me realize I couldn’t go back into the abyss. I could no longer stare up at my ceiling longing to sleep and never wake up. I could no longer find comfort in scalding hot water, or spending all my free time in bed.
I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t.
Staring up into his blue eyes, I did something that even surprised myself.
I leaned upwards, closing the gap between us, and pressed my lips against his.
#bucky barnes#sebastian stan#dark!sebastian stan x reader#dark!sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#dark!steve kemp#fresh movie#steve kemp#dark! sebastian stan x reader#Steve kemp x reader
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don't Speak 42
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)
Character: librarian!Andy Barber
Note: Almost lost this chapter bc my computer went nuts.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
You hit delete chat in the conversation settings. You leave it just as blank as before and close out the app. Just like Dr. Kemp said to. He can’t be there right away but he has a better plan. You’re not good at those anyway.
All you have to do now is wait out Andy. He’ll be going to work come morning and you’ll be alone. Then you can take your things, the things that are really yours, and leave. Finally. You realise that’s exactly what you’ve been longing for. A way out.
The hard part is still ahead of you. Freedom is still just out of reach. You have to pretend that everything’s fine but you’re realising, you’ve been doing that for a while.
You shake off your nerves and roll the tears back behind your eyes. You can cry later. Even as your cheeks strain and your nose tingles, you resist. Not yet, not yet.
You finish tidying up the tablet, trying to leave it as you found it. With not much else than your drawings. You close the cover and bring it with you as you turn off the lights and head upstairs. You sop up the mess in the bathroom and leave it dark.
You hesitate to approach the bedroom. You hear Andy’s snores, low and steady. Your skin crawls. You enter and put the tablet on the small side table where you charge it. You hang the damp robe and face the bed.
For the first time in your life, you want to hurt someone. You’re not afraid of being the one hurt. You really want to hit him and kick him and just let out your fury on him. You can’t and you won’t. You’re not who he told you you are. And you’re not strong enough for that. You’re still too small, too weak.
So you near the bed and climb under the covers. You move slowly as you pull the duvet to your chin. He snorts, making you wince, and sidles up behind you as he wraps his arm around you. You go rigid but fight through the ice that threatens to encase you. He can’t know, he can’t know.
“Mmm, where were you?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Had a bath,” you squeak, putting your hand over his. You want to rip him away but instead, you squeeze, holding him tighter. “Sorry.”
“Nmph,” he grumbles and nuzzles your crown, just as quickly drifting back into his rhythmic snores.
You exhale little by little. You close your eyes but just as quickly open again. You know you won’t sleep. You can’t. Not with him as good as on top of you. Not knowing what awaits you in the morning. But mostly, not with that needling guilt in the nape of your neck.
Amber.
You betrayed your own sister. You treated her like a villain. You demonised her. You ostracised her. You left her!
You don’t know if she can ever forgive you. You can’t blame her for that. Worse, you don’t think you’d let her forgive you. You don’t deserve it.
You feel brittle as you bite down on your cheeks. No crying, not yet, you remind yourself. For once, you have to do things right. You have to follow through. It’s up to you now.
🕊️
“I didn’t know you could make crepes,” Andy smiles as he cuts into the roll, compote fruit and syrup oozing out.
You do your best to mirror him, making a show of nibbling away at your own food.
“I found a recipe,” you tap your tablet, not far from you.
“That’s great. You’re… doing better.”
“I’m trying,” you assure him, “I hope it doesn’t make you late for work.”
“Hm? Oh, no, breakfast with you is worth it,” he pops a bit into his mouth and hums. You regret not spitting in it, repulsed by the thought when it came to you, but now, not so much.
He can sit there and lie to you. It makes it easier for you to do the same. He’s been lying this entire time. Making you feel like you’re a problem. A burden. No, you were a thing to be used. To be exploited. He never liked you, the girl he calls dove, he only liked what he could get out of you. And he got off on it.
He took Amber from you. He did that. Yes, you’re stupid for falling for it but he knew what he was doing. He lied to you. And you know exactly how he did it.
He took all that therapy and twisted it around on you. You wonder why he even bothers with Dr. Kemp when he’s not trying to change. More than the narcissist he branded your sister, he’s a psychopath. You found that on the internet too.
Bitter, angry, hateful. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never truly loathed anyone. Not even your grandfather. His fists were nothing compared to Andy’s emotional battering.
“Well, don’t let it get too cold. They get gummy,” you force a smile, only fed by the thought of what comes after. Of what you’re going to do when he leaves.
Run.
🕊️
When Andy leaves, you’re in the kitchen tidying up. You left all the dishes in a stack to make a convincing show for him. You’ll be busy all day scouring the skillet and the fruit stuck to the inside of the pot, along with your plates and the cutlery. Oh and the mess you made of the counters.
The door closes but you don’t break your charade right away. You give it ten minutes. Fifteen, just to be sure. Then you tiptoe down the hall and look out the window. The tire tracks are already snowed over.
You don’t hesitate. You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. This is your chance. You spin and race upstairs.
You search the closet and the dresser, everywhere for the bag you brought there. It’s gone. Along with all the clothes from your old life. All that was you. Andy took them along with everything else.
Whatever. You grab a few pieces of the more practical slant; turtlenecks, some leggings, a pair of jeans. Socks and underwear. You work quickly, with intent. Just enough to get out, not a lot. Not too much. As little as you can. You don’t want to keep too much that will remind you of this place.
You rush back downstairs after you change. You grab your tablet and message Dr. Kemp, the chat log still blank. You delete each message once he responds. You can’t be too careful.
‘He’s gone. When can you get here?’
His reply isn’t long; ‘ten minutes, been waiting a block away.’
‘I’ll be outside.’
You close the cover of the tablet and stare at it. You hover it over the countertop but stop yourself. No, you earned this. It’s yours. Andy never did pay you for the painting. Not in full.
You hug the tablet and go to retrieve the bag you found in the front closet. A tote bag with faded floral print. You don’t wonder where it came from. You don’t want to think too hard about him or this place. They’ll soon be long gone.
You pull on your boots and your coat. That’s all he’s left you of your former existence. You don’t suspect you would have them for much longer if you stay. You shudder and grip the fabric handles of the bag.
You open the front door and step out into the drift. The snow floats down in fluffy flakes. As you step off the porch, it collects on your lashes. You make slow progress, lifting your knees high as the unshoveled walk makes each step a task. As you come up to the curb, a distant rumble comes from down the avenue.
You shield your eyes against the steady snowfall and squint. You think it’s Dr. Kemp. You’re not sure. When you saw his car, it was dark and you were more focused on other things.
He rolls down the snow-carpeted road cautiously and pulls in the next driveway before turning around and coming up along the curb. He grins at you through the passenger window and the doors unlock with a loud thunk. You grab the handle and pull.
“Hey, sweetheart, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
“Thanks, doctor, I… thank you. I…”
“You sounded scared, how could I say no?”
You nod and look over your shoulder at the house.
“Let me deal with Andy when the time comes,” he insists, “come on, it’s hell out here. Get in.”
You nod and haul your bag onto the floor ahead of you and put the tablet on top. You stop yourself before you release the device. You look at Dr. Kemp. He stares.
“You alright?” He asks.
“I forgot something,” you say as you let go of the tablet. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll be two minutes,” you hold up as many fingers, “promise.”
“I trust you, sweetheart,” he assures with a smile, “I’ll be here.”
You take and breath and close the passenger door gently. You whip around and stumble back up the walk, stepping into the holes you left on your way out. You burst inside, not carrying for the melting snow you leave in your stead or the undone dishes, or anything about this place. There’s only one last thing that needs to be done.
You take the stairs two at a time as you complete your final chore. You barrel back down and don’t bother with a final goodbye as you head back out. For once, you feel accomplished. Like you’ve done something and you don’t give a heck what Andy feels.
You don’t look back, you just keep going. You falter but not from doubt, only the snow. You get back to the car and rip the door open, climbing in with a heave. You fall into the seat as you snap the door shut. You lean your head back and sigh.
“I’m ready to go now,” you say.
“Great,” he shifts into gear, “put your seat belt on, sweetheart, the roads are awful.”
You do as he says as you catch your breath. Your skin is buzzing from more than just the cold. You fold your hands as you try to settle your nerves.
“Good girl,” Dr. Kemp praises, “we’ll be home soon.”
🕊️
It’s real once you walk through the front door. You look around at the home decor and nearly fall apart. The stringent, almost sterile walls of Andy’s house haunt you. It’s only then, with something to compare them to, that you realise how much you dreaded them. How much you despised them.
You look around and take in every inch. The brown leather bench beside the door, a tall coat rack on the other side of the entryway, a mat for your snow laden boots, and a runner rug with the honey coloured curlicues on a deeper shade of brown. There’s a faint smell of cedar in the air.
“Ann made up the guest room for you,” he says, “and the kids are at school so they shouldn’t be a bother.”
You stop short, your hands on the collar of your coat. You look at him, dull with shock. Your cheeks tremble as you gulp.
“Ann… your…”
“My wife, yeah,” he says coolly, “she’s excited to meet you.”
“She is?” You blink, “I uh…” your eyes flit all around, “I’m so sorry, this isn’t–”
“It’s fine,” he intones, “really. She understands how vulnerable some of them a safe space.”
It’s like a slap in the face. You don’t know what you expected or why you expected it. He’s your doctor, you’re his patient, a crazy person. How did you forget that?
You glance down at his hand, his left hand. There’s a gold ring on his finger. It wasn’t there before. Not in your sessions, not at Thanksgiving. Never. Why wasn’t he with his family during the holidays?
“I thought I heard the door,” a woman appears from the other end of the hall, “oh, this must be her.”
You bat your lashes, fighting to hold yourself together. Don’t cry yet.
“Uh, hi,” you squeak as she struts down the hall.
“Hello, hon,” the tall blonde pulls you into a hug as you cower.
“Ann,” Kemp clears his throat.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forget–” she lets you go, “I didn’t scare you, did I?”
You only shake your head. Your eyes are dry and itchy. You can only look back at her before slowly glancing at Steve. Your cheeks twinge and your lips pinch. He never told you about her. Why would he?
You feel like your chest is empty. There’s an icy whirlwind inside of you, flowing through you, sending a shiver up your spine. This is the worst thing you've ever felt. What is it?
“Ann,” Kemp says, “she's had a long night.”
“Oh, of course, you take her up to the guest room,” she backs off, “you take your time, hon, do whatever you need to do.”
You nod and mouth a thank you, unable to get any noise out. She goes back the way she came and you turn, focusing on undoing your coat. What have you done?
“I guess I should've warned you, huh? What with your… issues,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Just let me know if it gets too crowded around here.”
“Okay,” you croak.
You bend to wiggle free of your boots. You don't know what to do. You just want to be alone.
He leads you through the house. Into a cozy front room and to a staircase curled up to the second floor. You follow behind him, the tote bag dangling from your grasp.
He opens a door as he faces you. You try to hide your emotions but you can barely keep from frowning. He rests his hand on the door frame.
“This is you. I'm down at the very end,” he points over his shoulder, “if you need anything…”
“I'm sorry.”
“Sorry? For…”
“Coming here.”
“Sweetheart, I wouldn't say yes if it was a problem,” he coos as he reaches to caress your shoulder, “I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I don't make sure my patients are safe, huh?”
“I guess not,” you murmur.
“Look, you just get yourself situated. Try to relax. I know a lot's happened but you're strong. You can do this,” he leans in, “I believe in you.”
He kisses your forehead and you wince. His hand goes to your chin as he pulls away. You stare up at him.
“I meant it when I said you're special,” he hums.
“I…” you turn your head away from him, slipping free, “I need to lay down.”
“Sure,” he smirks and drops his hand, “I'll check in when I can.”
You turn into the bedroom, slouching through as you sense him behind you. You feel him watching, as if waiting for something. You refuse to look back.
“Just relax, sweetheart,” he purrs, “you're exactly where you need to be.”
The door shuts and you gasp as the bag falls from your hand. What does he mean?
#andy barber#dark andy barber#dark!andy barber#andy barber x reader#don't speak#steve kemp#fresh#au#library au#series#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#defending jacob
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
You didn’t need that, did you?
Steve Kemp: You meet a man at the bar who loves your thighs.
An entry for Day 3 of the exciting @sintember challenge!
Prompt: You didn’t need that, did you?, ft Steve Kemp, Fresh (2022).
Warnings: Complete filth; very subtle cannibalistic tendencies; implied surgical mutilation. 18+!
An hour you had been sitting on an uncomfortable barstool, slowly sipping on drinks. You don’t even know why you came, maybe you thought it would be fun, maybe you thought you’d meet someone; neither of those was the case.
You drop your head on your shoulder, face to the right at the stool that had been empty seconds ago, you could have sworn. You startle slightly at the sight, though you’re not unpleasantly surprised; a man with odd cerulean eyes, a sharp jawline and a debonair smirk has his head tilted your way.
“Did I scare you?”
He asks. It seems lighthearted, you know it is, but really deep in your stomach you feel a twist of some kind, barely, though, your senses hyper focused on how he’s making you feel with his hungry gaze. Hungry.
“A little,” you admit with a small smile, taking the last sip of your drink.
He lets out a breathy laugh and offers, “Can I buy you another?”
Steve, is his name, and for the rest of the night, he’s absolutely magnetic as he speaks, but you can barely comprehend what he’s saying, trying desperately to keep the conversation going when there’s just this burning between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some form of friction, subtly. He had to have noticed.
You hadn’t even noticed how close he was until he brushes his fingers over your knee, just under the hem of your dress, and your sentence is cut off with a choked gasp; you can tell by the amused smirk on his face he’s having fun with this, but you can’t even find it in you to spew a witty remark when all you can think about is how good he would feel.
You shift once more a little closer to him, trying to get his hands to budge up a little further. He smooths his palms over the sides of your knees and up your thighs; hooking his fingers under your flesh, he rubs soothing circles with his thumbs.
“You’re burning up,” he notes, maybe more to himself than to you, yet steel blue eyes holding you hostage with that heated gaze; you swear his pupils have dilated.
You can’t respond, afraid if you open your mouth it’ll only be a pathetic whimper that comes out, but you don’t need to.
He changes his circular movements to the opposite direction. He leans in so close it scares you how little self control you’re working on right now.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. Maybe that fact it didn’t even sound like a question should have you hearing faint alarm bells, but all you can hear is your own heartbeat and his low voice.
You’re nodding in earnest before he’s even finished his sentence, and soon you’re both rushing out the bar. You slide into the passenger seat of an expensive looking car you can’t care to name as you wonder how on earth you’re gonna control yourself on the drive.
You give him your address and soon he’s got you up against your bedroom wall, harsh breaths being exchanged between heated kisses as his hands roam your body.
He practically throws you onto the bed and you giggle, bouncing once before he’s pulled you by your ankles, legs hanging over the edge of the bed as he rests his head between your thighs.
He runs his palms over your thighs, admiring them like they’re perfectly sculpted.
“Fuck, you’re so soft…” he drawls as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, rubbing his cheeks across your supple flesh. He bites you and you jerk, hands flying to his hair and tugging, just trying to get his mouth to where it needs to be, you’re fucking soaked.
He runs his hands up and then down your sides and grips your hips harsh enough to leave half moon dents in your skin you’re sure you’ll see the marks of tomorrow, as he pulls your heat closer to him.
“I know you taste good…”
…
The next morning you wake up sore; an ache between your legs was to be expected, but this was a dull throbbing from the top of your right leg. You reach a hand down to feel it, but running your hand down you stop short, your fingers falling to a mattress—a mattress that had to have been thinner than yours—your leg ending much sooner than you expected, much soon that it should.
You gasp and sit up with much effort, throwing a thin white sheet off of you to get a look at your right thigh.
At the sound of a shifting chair your head snaps up; Steve is seated by a door, leaning forward towards you.
“You didn’t need that, did you?”
♯
#sintember 2023#steve kemp x reader#dark steve kemp x reader#dark steve kemp x you#dark!steve kemp#dark steve kemp#steve kemp x y/n#dark!steve kemp x reader#steve kemp smut
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
First Christmas
Summary: A perfect Christmas dinner needs planning
Pairings: dark!Steve Kemp x female reader
Warnings: 18+, implied non-con, implied cannibalism, implied abduction, overal if you don't like creepy things stay away, but it doesn't get graphic anywhere.
(notes: this is something that came to me this morning, and while I know it's not for everyone, I hope some can still enjoy it. Un-beta'd, still figuring Tumblr out, also haven't seen the movie😌)
🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️
He placed the star on the top of the tree and took a step back to look at the result.
Perfect.
He mentally went over the list he had made; washing the plaid he placed on the couch so it was fresh and soft, check.
His favorite cd in the cd-player, check.
The Christmas tree decorated, check.
He heard the ping of the oven, indicating the roast was ready. Perfect. On time, like he had expected. It still made him smile that he was correct in his planning.
There was only one thing missing though. The main guest of the evening.
His heart beat just a little faster thinking of her, while he walked to turn the oven off, and let the door of it slightly open to not let it cook further and overdo the meat. It smelled amazing. It looked amazing too. The roast browned but not burned, the potatoes next to it looking crispy and golden. And dessert…well, dessert would also be going to plan if he had a say in it. He was sure he could convince her.
He walked out of the room and towards hers. Knocking softly, calling out her name. He heard stumbling, but the door didn't open yet. So he opened it for her, maybe it was still difficult for her. He popped his head in.
“There you are. You ready for dinner?”
She didn't answer, barely looked at him, but he helped her get up off the bed and looked her up and down, smiling widely. “Look at you! You look beautiful. I knew that dress would fit you, but it's exceeding my expectations. Honey, it's going to be an amazing night.”
He kissed the top of her head, smelling her hair subtly, his favorite scent in his nose warming his chest. She was so beautiful. He was a lucky man.
He helped her get to her seat, slowly making progress because he couldn't help letting his hands wander over her hips and back. Not too much, food was waiting for them and he wanted her to enjoy it. He put a lot of effort in it!
She sat down carefully, fixing the skirt of her dress so it covered her knees.
He grinned down at her. “You're going to love this.”
He turned to get the roast out of the oven, the dish still steaming with heat and the smell mouth watering when it got to his senses. He placed it in the middle of the table and heard her let out a sob she was trying to surpress quickly.
“I hope you'll enjoy it, honey,” he looked at her with a warm smile. “First of many Christmasses to come. Here's to us!”
He handed her a flute of champagne and she took the tiniest sip.
As he picked up the meatfork and knife, he watched the tears fall down her face as she silently cried, and looked at anything but what he was doing.
“You get the best part, of course, you deserve it,” he placed a portion of neatly sliced pieces on her plate and watched her. “Go on, try it.”
She shook her head and his face dropped for a second. “Now don't be difficult. We were going to have a great time. I am going to give you a beautiful gift afterwards, and all I ask is for you to eat the food I lovingly made for you.”
With trembling hand sheb lifted her fork and cut off a piece, the tears now falling in streams down her cheeks, as she put a tiny amount in her mouth and chewed. He saw her trying not to throw up and only barely succeeding. As she opened her mouth to show him it was empty, he smiled warmly at her again. Sitting down and filling his own plate, he put a much bigger piece of the roast in his mouth and chewed, humming appreciatively. “God, this tastes amazing.”
He ate further while she was picking her food. He didn't mind, she had tried, and he was proud of her. He knew things were hard for her now, it would take more time to get used to the situation. But she would. And it's not like she could run. It was hard to, with only one leg, after all.
As he finished his plate, he sat up straight, looking at her with eyes half-lidded, appreciating the pretty picture in front of him.
“So are you ready for dessert?”
She pursed her lips and spoke softly, hesitantly. “I thought you were going to give me a gift?”
He grinned. “And I will sweetheart. I thought we could combine it. Imagine our baby at this table next year.”
She froze and he got up to walk towards her. Placing a firm kiss on her trembling lips, he whispered softly: “Merry christmas, Darling!”
#dark!Steve kemp x reader#steve kemp fanfiction#Steve Kemp x reader#first Christmas#Steve kemp x female reader#dark!steve kemp x female reader#Sebastian Stan fanfiction#Steve kemp
39 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
vanikey
tbh i just want to play kh
sweet-lulunstuff
lulu
kubotajp-blog
Untitled
g-h-o-s-t-2000
Elagabalus
urdisappointmentsmovieblog
fuckin love movies dude