#steve kemp x ofc
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📖"First Taste"
Rated: Explicit
Pairing: Steve Kemp x reader
Tags: doctor/patient, medical kink, body image issues, oral sex (f!rec), fingering, dub-con, pussy worship, (inference of background cannibalism (b/c it's Fresh), but nothing to do with the plot or reader)
Summary: Steve Kemp sees a new patient for a consult about a rather ... intimate procedure.
Steve gets into the office at his usual time, coffee cup in hand as he catches the elevator. He sees Cassie jogging in from across the lobby in her colorful scrubs and holds the door for her. They greet one another amicably and ask how each other’s weekend was. She tells him about her new kickboxing class, he tells her about the pâté he made on Saturday.
“Liver?” She says dubiously as the two of them enter the office. She’s wrinkling her nose and laughing at him. “You’re some kind of Chef, Kemp.”
“I prefer the term gourmand. By the way is that Barbie on your—”
“Yep.” She goes behind the nurse’s station and hands him a clipboard. “Your morning appointments. Dr. Hickory went into early labor at like four am, so you’ve got some of hers.”
Steve’s eyebrows raise as he takes the clipboard and gives it a look. “What is she, thirty-eight weeks?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Should be fine,” he mumbles. He frowns at one of the patient slots on his clipboard. “I see I have an FGM consult at eleven,” he says, eyes flicking peevishly back up to Cassie.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she says, checking on her computer. “Yeah, Ms. Moreau. Be nice, she’s new.”
Steve narrows his eyes at the info. “You know I’ve tried to get away from doing those anymore,” he says, giving Cassie a look. Everybody in the office knows how he has a problem with the fact that Hickory’s turned their office into such a chop shop. Steve would’ve thought a woman would know better. Female solidarity, progressiveness, autonomy, kumbaya, whatever.
Cassie rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah yeah. Dr. Brendan the activist.”
“Hey, I told you, it’s—”
“‘Pathologizing the pussy’,” she recites with finger quotes. “We know.”
“Mm,” Steve grunts, assumes the ‘we’ is in reference to all the nurses at the practice. Those girls share a level of groupthink that is frankly eerie.
Steve works in plastics. He’s a vain man himself, so he knows he shouldn’t have gotten involved in a career field like this if he wasn’t prepared to be surrounded by other people’s body insecurities 24/7. It’s just… not how he pictured it.
Good thing he’s got this new side business venture going. He’s hopeful about it. Just last month he’d been able to send in the final payment for his student loans. Pretty soon he’ll have enough to get a house. He's entertaining the idea of a custom build, still scouting properties south of Portland. “I’ll see you later,” he tells Cassie. “Send my nine o’clock to exam three when they get here.”
“You got it.”
You arrive early for your appointment, plunking yourself down in the waiting room chair after the long walk from the train. You feel unpleasantly sticky underneath the cotton of your sundress. The office is cool, but it’d been hot outside. The near-boiling summer temperatures made you work up a sweat as you made your way across the city for this appointment.
Now, sitting in the chair, you can feel the sweat that’s formed on your body. It’s at your hairline, between your breasts and at the creases of your inner thighs. You worry about it, because soon you’ll be baring yourself to the doctor and you had specifically showered right before leaving for your apartment, used a pH balanced feminine hygiene product, just in case you were somehow scent blind to your own body. You didn’t want to be sweaty and gross when Dr. Hickory was going to be looking down there.
“Miss?” The receptionist smiles at you, holding out a clipboard from over the desk. “You need to fill this out, please.”
You stand, hurrying to go get it and the pen that she offers you as well. “Sorry,” you murmur. They’d told you that you would need to be there fifteen minutes early for paperwork. You return to your chair, feeling like such a hot sweaty mess, whereas the receptionist lady is so pretty and poised. You tuck some of your blonde hair back behind your ears and cross your ankles in an attempt to be even a fraction as put together as she is, you powder blue espadrilles knocking together as you prop the clipboard on your lap.
The office’s air conditioning is making the perspiration cool to your skin now, clammy and unpleasant. You read over the intake forms and fill them out. The second page has a line drawing of a naked woman’s body, front and back. It asks you to circle the areas you’re there to address. You bite your lip and circle the drawing’s pelvis. The anxiety you tend to get creeps back up on you, but you take a deep breath and let it out. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Dr. Hickory does this all the time. It’s her speciality. She will have seen it all, and you’ll be nothing new to her.
The door to the waiting room opens and a younger woman in hot pink scrubs peeks her head through. “Ms. Moreau?” she says brightly. She has café au lait skin, wild curly hair, and a genuine smile that helps put you at ease.
“That’s me.” You stand up, the only person in the waiting room. “Obviously,” you chuckle, grabbing your purse and following after her.
“I’m Cassie,” she introduces herself. “Hop on up here and let’s get your weight.” You step on the scale backwards and open your mouth to tell her that you don’t need to know the number, but Cassie cuts you off with a wry look. “Don’t worry,” she says, thumbing at her own chest. “I know how it is, girl.”
You flush and nod, glad that you don’t have to veer into that explanation. She records your weight on her clipboard and tells you to follow her to an exam room. Inside, she hands you a painfully thin paper gown and tells you that you can change. You fidget uncomfortably. “Um, actually I wore a dress so that she could just…” you make a gesture, “ah, dive right in. Is it alright if I just stay like this?”
Cassie nods and doesn’t try to foist the paper gown on you any further. “Have a seat,” she tells you. “The doctor is just finishing up with another patient.”
“Okay,” you whisper, getting up onto the exam table. After Cassie leaves, you look around the room, taking everything in. You’ve never been in a plastic surgeon’s office before. Everything looks just like any other doctor’s office would, except that instead of posters talking about BMI and heart disease, there are advertisements for laser therapies and Botox.
You spot a tray of breast implants over on a counter and can’t stop yourself from going over to look. You pick one up and poke at it, feeling it wobble in your hand. You giggle a little, before bringing it up to hold in front of your chest. Your own breasts haven’t ever bothered you much. They’re small-ish but have a good shape. One of your exes had complimented them excessively (though other parts had received thinly-veiled criticism). You pick up another of the implants, this one bigger and more viscous, and hold the two shapes up to each of your breasts, trying to imagine what it would look like…
“I wouldn’t recommend either of those for you,” a male voice cuts in, and you nearly jump out of your skin.
You spin around. You’re still holding the implants near your chest, startled as you blink at the man who’s entered the room. He’s wearing a doctor’s coat over scrubs, and his nametag says Brendan Kemp, MD. The bigger of the two implants rolls out of your lax hand, landing with a comical ‘plop’ right by your shoe. “Oh jeez. I’m sorry!” you say in a hurry, feeling like a child who’s gotten caught doing something bad. You rush to bend down and collect the implant from the floor. “Sorry I was just—”
The man steps closer with a smirk on his lips and gleaming eyes. He seems amused at you. “Everybody wants to grab the boobies,” he says, gently taking the implants out of your hands and setting them back onto the tray on the counter. “You’re fine, Ms. Moreau.”
You blink at him, stuck in place. He knows your name. “Oh,” you say, voice hushed, still embarrassed. This doctor is very good looking. He has a commanding presence, too. Something about his eyes draws you in, makes you want to be the object of his attention. He smiles warmly at you, perfect teeth flashing for a second, and you huff at yourself and try to laugh off your foolishness. “Yeah,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “Guess I was just curious.”
“Hey, at least you weren’t juggling them. I walked in on that, once.” He winks. “What’s your accent? French Canadian?”
“Ah, y-yeah. I’m from—” You watch as he barely listens to your answer, his eyes sliding down to the level of your chest and staying there, assessing. You flush under the scrutiny. But you don’t feel like you can move away without being rudely dismissive. You squirm, uncomfortable. “Um, I’m not—”
“I’m Dr. Kemp,” he murmurs offhandedly, still staring at your chest. You see his hands twitch, as if he’s thinking of touching, but stopping himself. “A woman with your frame wouldn’t look right with ones that big,” he says, meaning the implants you’d just been holding.
You feel the need to defend your own taste. “Oh I know that. I wasn’t—”
“These,” he says softly, taking one of the more modestly sized implants from the tray and holding it up in front of you to see. You’re caught looking more at the sight of his strong, elegant fingers than you are the implant. “These would suit you better. Though I honestly wouldn’t recommend augmentation for you.” His eyes finally return to your face. “Your breasts are lovely.”
You feel your lips part in shock. “Um…” you feel an odd combination of flattery and confusion. Is it normal for a doctor to talk to a patient like this? Maybe it’s different with plastic surgeons, you think. They are paid to focus on their patients’ looks, after all. Comments on what is and isn’t aesthetically pleasing must be par for the course, here. “Thank you?”
But then there’s his gaze, the way he stares at you. It feels like he’s not just looking at your body for his job, but also looking for himself, as well. There’s too much interest there to be purely professional. Your breath catches when you feel your nipples starting to tighten beneath your dress, and sure enough, when you glance down they’re very visible through the fabric. Shit. You see Kemp’s eyes look back down.
“Sorry,” you say in a rush, turning away from his assessing gaze. You should’ve worn a bra, you chide yourself. You try to take a deep, stabilizing breath while you have your back to him. “I’m here for… for something else.” You look down at your pebbled nipples, which aren’t softening as much as you’d like, and you sigh in defeat. No doubt Dr. Kemp has seen plenty of nipples in his day. You need to just get over it. You turn around and climb back up to sit on the exam table, the paper crinkling under your butt as you settle. “I’m just waiting for Doctor Hickory,” you explain. “For a consult. They said she’s with another patient.”
Dr. Kemp sighs and holds up his clipboard. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. I’ll be seeing you today.”
“What?” You sit up straighter, alarmed. “But…” You’d specifically sought out a woman doctor for this. The idea of a man looking critically at you, there, is mortifying. “But, but Dr. Hickory—”
“Is having a baby,” Kemp says. “She went into preterm labor this morning. But we hear everything’s going well.” He smiles at you, as if this is good news. “She’ll be out on maternity leave for at least six months.”
“...Six months,” you repeat weakly. You hadn’t even known she was pregnant. They hadn’t said a thing to you when you made the appointment. You’d been counting on her being your doctor. And now this guy, this Dr. Kemp, was stepping in? You swallow nervously, uncomfortable with a man (let alone a very, very handsome man) being your doctor. Not for this. “Um, well I…”
Dr. Kemp is already looking over your chart on his clipboard. He’s going to see what you circled, you realize, mortified. You watch helplessly as he reads all of your private details. “Dr. Kemp…” you say meekly,
“You're here for a consult for…” he reads, eyes scanning further down the page. “Oh. You’re the Labiaplasty.”
You flush bright red at the word coming from his perfect mouth. You squirm uncomfortably. “Um, well… yes.”
“Don’t worry,” he tells you, placing a hand on your knee as if in comfort. He pulls it away before you can process it. “I’m more than familiar with the procedure. I trained down in L.A.” He says this like it’s supposed to explain something, and he winks at you again. It’s… upsetting.
You swallow thickly. “The thing is, I’d been hoping for a female doctor.”
Kemp’s eyes fly to your face as he realizes how uncomfortable you are. “Oh, Honey. I see.” You blush and he gives you a tender look. “You’re shy? That’s understandable.”
“Thank you, I—”
“But I’m sorry to tell you, Sweetheart, there aren’t any other women doctors in our practice.”
“Oh.” Your heart sinks. Getting this consult appointment had taken months, and you’d wanted to go to a place where you knew they were very good, very experienced. This place had been recommended as the best. “I see.”
Dr. Kemp looks pityingly at you. “Did you want to reschedule your appointment?” he asks gently. “Dr. Hickory won’t be taking new patients until after her leave, but I can have the receptionist take a look at next year’s calendar.”
You look at him with wide eyes, disappointed. “Next… next year?”
He makes an apologetic face. “Yeah, sorry.”
Sighing, you try to put on a brave face. You’re an adult, you tell yourself. Buck the fuck up. You’ve put up with male gynos before, after all. None of them ever looked like Dr. Kemp, but you shouldn’t hold the man’s good looks against him. He’s just here to do his job, to help you. “It’s okay,” you say, trying to approximate a friendly smile. “It’s fine. You can… you can be my doctor.”
Dr. Kemp’s eyes flash in satisfaction, but there’s something about it that’s more than just professional. “Good girl,” he says, and he says it all chipper and like it’s a normal thing to say to a patient, like it isn’t supposed to make your panties feel a little bit damp (and honestly, the sweetheart’s and the honey’s and the your breasts are lovely’s has probably contributed to the situation in your panties, too). “So,” Kemp says, sitting down onto the physician’s stool and rolling over. “Why don’t you tell me what makes you want this procedure.”
He’s giving you his full attention. He’s not even holding the clipboard anymore, and you find that it’s nearly impossible to meet his gaze for long. You look down at your lap instead, at your clasped hands against the white fabric of your sundress as you tell him, “Um, well I guess I just don’t, ah, don’t really like how I look… down there.” You nearly whisper the last words, ashamed.
“What don’t you like about it?” he asks softly.
“It just doesn’t look right,” you say, echoing the things your boyfriend had told you, things that you couldn’t help but to come to see as true. “It’s too much. Too big. It looks like…” you can’t even bring yourself to say the words that he’d used. “It’s just not pretty,” you whisper, cheeks burning in shame. “I want it to be prettier. Like other girls.”
“Other girls,” he repeats. “What other girls are we talking about?”
You scoff quietly and frown at your lap. “Like… you know. Like what you see in, in—”
“Porn?” Kemp says, voice tight. When you look up you’re struck by his darkening expression. He looks pissed off. “Let me guess,” he says, jaw working. “Boyfriend?”
You gape at him. “Ahm… no. Ex-boyfriend,” you murmur. Dr. Kemp looks very displeased, and you shrink back into yourself. “Is it… isn’t this like, a common procedure?” you ask meekly, wary of the man’s expression. “I looked at the website. There were lots of before and after pictures.” When you don’t get a response, you prod, “Doctor?”
“Steve,” he says, his expression lightening up somewhat. “You can call me Steve.”
You glance at his name tag that says Brendan Kemp, MD. “But—”
He scoots forward and puts his hands on your knees, rubbing over them. It pushes the hem of your dress up by the barest degree, but you ignore it. He’s looking you closely in the eyes. He looks sweet, and kind. And because of how handsome he is, how sure of himself too, it’s intimidating as hell. “Why don’t I have a look first, hm?” he says. “Give you my professional opinion, before you go deciding what needs fixing.”
You gulp and manage a tiny nod. “O-okay.” This is the part you’ve dreaded. Dr. Kemp (Steve, he’d told you to call him, but that just makes this whole experience feel more uncomfortable, more personal) scrutinizing your most private place.
He pulls out the stirrups from the end of the table and instructs you to put your legs up. “Take your shoes and underwear off and get comfy,” he says, smiling nicely at you as he says it, as if “comfy” is something you could possibly be while doing this.
He scoots away on his rolling stool to go over to the room’s counter and don latex gloves, giving you an illusion of privacy as you untie the laces of your shoes and slip them off your feet. They land on the floor with a muted ‘clunk’, and you slide your panties down your legs and tuck them under your lower back. They have a little wet spot on them that you don’t want Dr. Kemp to see. You slide down the table and put your feet into the stirrups, getting into the familiar, yet never-not-humiliating, position. You feel impossibly exposed, the cool air hitting between your legs and making you want to close them. As a useless, last-ditch effort, you straighten out the fabric of your dress so that it covers you to your knees, serving as a sort of barrier between you and him. “...Ready,” you say quietly, when it seems that he’s not going to return without your say-so.
He sits on the stool and rolls up close between your legs. You start trembling a little and you shut your eyes to try and calm down. “...Hey,” Kemp says, getting your attention. When you open your eyes again you see him standing over you, looking at your face instead of between your legs. “Honey,” he says gently. “You seem really nervous.”
You wince. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He looks kindly at you. “I just wanted to double check. You didn’t indicate any history of sexual assault on your intake form.”
You blanch. “Oh! N-no I— nothing like that.”
“Okay,” he says gently, patting your knee again. “Just wanted to make sure.”
You’re struck by how sweet that is of him, and you try to relax to show him you’re grateful for his care. “It’s okay, it’s fine,” you tell him as he sits back down on the stool. “This just… sucks, you know?”
“Mm.” You gasp as his gloved hands appear on your ankles and give an indicative tug. “Scoot down closer to the end of the table, Sweetheart.”
Heat floods you as you do as you’re told, putting your ass right to the edge of the table like he wants. It’s so humiliating. You want to cover your face with your hands, only refraining by gripping the edges of the padded table instead.
“Shh. Good girl,” he praises you, and you feel your belly clench at the words. Below you, he chuckles and self consciousness floods you as you think of what he must be seeing. You’re suddenly, horribly curious if you’re at all wet. Good God, you hope not. But your panties had been damp, that one little wet spot on the crotch… You tense again as Kemp’s hands appear on the inside edges of your knees, pushing them apart. “Open up for me now.”
You realize you’d been closing your legs together somewhat. “S-sorry,” you whisper.
He rubs your inner thigh—close to the knee but still shocking. “It’s okay. I know this is hard. I can tell you’re a woman who doesn’t spread her legs for many men.”
Your lips part as your mind reels, offended and horrified that he’d say that. Nevermind that it’s true, or that it sounds like he’s praising you, like he’s just calling you a ‘good girl’ in a different way. You seal your lips shut to keep yourself from scolding him.
The next thing you feel is him leaning closer. You swear you can feel his breath down there, but surely he wouldn’t be getting so close. You grit your teeth and try not to let your mind run away with itself. “So,” you say to try and make conversation, to try and prove to him and yourself that you’re a mature woman who can handle this. “So y-you can see. See what I mean.”
“Mm, still looking,” he says thoughtfully. You inhale sharply when he touches you, but you quickly slam your eyes shut and try to take calming breaths. You knew going into this that you’d need to be examined. He drags his fingers over your mons and down the puffy outer lips of your pussy. It’s extra sensitive to you because you’d shaved yourself completely bare before this appointment. Silly, maybe, but you’ve always thought that hair down there was unsightly, gross, and you didn’t want Dr. Hickory to have to deal with it.
Not that she’s dealing with you at all, now.
You bite your lip as you feel him exploring you slowly, with the barest of touches. He’s touching you in a way that feels more like a lover than a doctor. His thumbs gently dip into the crease of your outer lips and pull them apart, baring everything between. “Look at that,” he whispers, and you nearly cry out in mortification. You must whimper or something, because Dr. Kemp pauses and checks, “Still okay?”
You nod, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “Fine,” you say breathily. Deep breaths. He does this all the time. It’s no big deal to him. Just take deep— “Oh!”
He’s stroking the hood of your clit with the pad of a finger, just the barest, gliding touch. It’s slippery with something, and you feel halfway sick as you have to wonder if it’s a medical lubricant he’s somehow fetched, or your own arousal that he’s gathered up and is using to explore you. No, you think, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t…
“You have a gorgeous pussy,” he breathes from between your legs.
“I… ex-excuse me?” you stutter. This time you can feel it when you clench and slick comes out of you. Dr. Kemp groans as if he’s seen it happen, and you feel your face flame. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, humiliated that you’re getting wet from this. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh sh sh,” he hushes you, one of his gloved hands smoothing over your inner thigh, this time much further up. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your body’s just reacting naturally to being stimulated.” His gentle explanation does absolutely nothing to help with your situation, and you feel your belly tighten again in arousal. You whimper helplessly, somehow wanting him to comfort you. And he does. “Honey,” he breathes, going back to tracing the hood of your clit. His fingers move down, following the line of your inner lips, spreading them out and gliding over the thickest parts of them. Shame curls in your gut as you remember the words you ex had used:
“Fucking luscious,”
You blink at the ceiling tiles, shocked. Those had most certainly not been the words he’d used. “Um,” you start to say, but he interrupts you in a firm tone,
“Baby, listen to me, okay?” You’re frozen, unable to respond so he takes your silence for compliance. Between your legs, his fingers trace up and down the wet folds of your cunt. There’s no interpreting it any other way now—he’s caressing you. “This?” he says, whispering the words what feels like only inches from your skin. “This is your labia minora.”
You exhale shakily. “I—I know that.”
“Mm.” He keeps tracing them, keeps gliding around in the wetness that’s now becoming obscene. “It’s natural for you to look like this.”
“I just…” you stammer, still trying to bring this examination back into the realm of productive. “I th-think they’re too big. There’s too much…” you tense up at another wet stroke over your clit. “Too much...meat,” you grit out.
Between your legs, Steve makes a displeased sound. “That’s what the ex told you, huh?” He doesn't wait for you to answer, one of his thumbs sliding down, down, until it starts rubbing down at your taint, pushing right up against the edge of your pussy. You gasp and he shushes you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong, here,” he murmurs, his breath a hot whoosh against you.
You whimper at the realization of how close he is to you now. “Please,” you whisper, “Dr. Kemp—”
“Steve,” he corrects gently, still thumbing circles of pressure into the thin skin at the edge of your hole, almost teasing, almost threatening with how close it is and how with only a little bit more pressure, a different angle, he could slide it right in. “I told you to call me Steve.” His other hand splays out over your mons, the thumb dipping down to swipe up and down over the hood of your clit. It’s a slick, gliding, barely-there touch. He’s hardly applying any pressure but that’s how you like it. You’re so sensitive there, and you can’t hold in the pitiful little moan that leaves your lips. Steve hums in approval. “Yeah,” he says, voice low and quiet. “You’ve got a prominent clitoral hood.”
You toss your head on the table, a whine building in your throat at his bold, clinical language. It doesn’t match his tone of voice or the way he’s touching you. This is so wrong. But you can’t stop it. You like it. He intimidates you horribly, and you like that, too.
He’s still stroking you there as he says, “What was that word you used, hm? ‘Meat’?”
You cringe.
“Well it is,” Steve says lowly. “Very meaty.” He traces your folds again, this time holding your labia delicately between his fingertips and rubbing the sensitive flesh. You just about die.
“St-steve, please,”
“And these lips,” he says, ignoring your pleas. “These gorgeous …juicy fucking folds.” he says, nearly growling the words. “Makes a man wanna lick, and suck…”
You go rigid at the first touch of his tongue. “Ohmygod,” you whisper, hips jolting up against his mouth without your permission. You’re about to apologize, but before you can, Dr. Kemp is loosing the filthiest, most appreciative groan, the tail end of the sound becoming muffled as he mashes his whole mouth against your pussy. “Holy—” Shit, you finish in your mind, unable to force words past your throat anymore. Steve mouths at you like he can’t wait, like he’s desperate, and you feel it as his tongue swipes broadly over your entire cunt. Your fingers spasm, digging painfully into the edges of the exam table as your whole body tenses up. “Oh, god,” you moan, hips jerking against his mouth.
He makes a muffled sound of pleasure and sucks everything he can into his mouth; your clit, your lips. He sucks, hard and sloppy, releasing it all with a loud, wet sound. “Fuck, honey,” he pants. “Never wanted to suck on a pussy so bad.” His hand returns to your mound, his thumb taking up the same swiping motion over your clit, only now you’re drenched and swollen, throbbing with sensitivity.
“Shit,” you whine, pressing up against his hand without realizing it at first.
He holds you down easily and flicks his thumb a little rougher, a little faster. “Yeah? He breathes, kissing at the edge of your sex, near your thigh in a move that is surprisingly sweet. “That feel good for you, Sweetheart?” You make an unplanned noise of assent, and he hums darkly. He’s pleased. “Good girl,” he says again, and flicks his thumb. “Such a big fat clit, and these pretty pink lips. Mmhm, so fucking plump. I could play with it all day, looove it.”
You toss your head, unable to take the words he’s saying. And he’s growling it all at you like it’s a good thing, like your pussy’s the best thing he’s ever seen. You can’t doubt for a second that he means it, but you’re just so overwhelmed by what he’s saying…
You make an embarrassingly high pitched sound when he presses a finger into you. “Oh!”
“Shsh,” he warns you, smoothing his other hand up the apex of your thigh, up under the fabric of your dress, over your belly. “Shh, honey. Don’t want the nurse to walk in, do you?”
You gasp, suddenly afraid of that possibility. He feels you get still and silent and soothes you with a heavy lick over your lips, the finger that’s inside of you curling. “You’re okay,” he promises, kissing your clit, sucking it and letting it pop from his mouth. You sob. “Shh. You’re okay.” He moves his finger shallowly, stroking you from the inside. It feels nice, and you exhale shakily, trying to calm yourself down.
“Steve,” you breathe. “You shouldn’t. We… I shouldn’t….”
All of a sudden he rises from the stool, standing to his full height and moving to the side of the table as he keeps his hand on you, in you. He stares down at you, his expression rapt but tender. It’s so much worse with him looking at you like this. It’s almost harder than when he had his face mashed against you and half your sex inside his mouth. It’s even more serious like this, you think as you blink up at him with parted lips. It’s more personal. He looks you right in the eyes, unfaltering, as he slips in another finger. You keen, and your hips press up into it, seeking. His lips curl, pleased. He moves his hand in such a firm, practiced way. He’s not pulling out very much at all. Not thrusting so much as he is rocking, grinding.
Inside, something starts to feel tight and desperate. You watch him watching you, watching it happen. He’s smiling, smug, he knows what he’s making you feel. “You’re soaking my hand, honey,” he murmurs, and you feel your cheeks flood hot with shame. “Uh uh,” he corrects you, stern. “No, it’s beautiful.”
He changes it, starts rocking deeper, curling against your walls and jabbing harder at that spot. It’s not an orgasm you feel so much as an urgency, and you squeak as the pressure builds. “S-something,” you try to say, try to tell him that something’s going to happen. But his eyes gleam in pleasure, like he already knows. Above your clit, the thumb of his hand starts rubbing in downward strokes: down down down. Holy fuck does it feel good. Your eyes slam shut as you feel it building, building and tightening. Oh—
“I want you to promise me,” Kemp says, and you’re shocked at how close his voice is. You open your eyes. He’s bent over, his face mere inches from yours as his hand keeps working. “Before I make you cum, I want you to promise me,” he growls. “Promise me that you’ll never let anybody cut on this fucking perfect pussy.”
You gasp, his words jabbing at the core of you almost as much as his fingers inside do, “Ahh-oh!”
“Promise me, Angel,” he says, rocking his hand harder, faster, harder. “Promise me now.”
“I… I…ha-oh! I pra–hom–mi–ssss!” Your eyes slam shut and your hips jerk against him as it happens. You cum, you cum hard. You hear him curse and know that he’s moving back down between your legs to look at your clenching cunt. He never stops jerking his hand into you, drawing the pleasure out. You’re loud. You squeal and shriek and jerk wildly through the whole thing, unable to control your body. It’s never felt this; this urgent, this out of control. You buck against his hand, feeling the wetness soaking everything beneath you, until finally it comes to an end.
He pulls out of you and uses both hands to spread your lips apart, staring. You whine and squirm, and then you really feel the extent of the wetness down there, and you blanch. “I—Oh no.” You try to sit up, try to pull away from him and get his hands off you, panicking. “I… I peed.” You struggle, mortified, pulling your feet from the stirrups and swinging them to the side of the table, trying to close yourself to him, trying to get off the table and—
“Heyheyhey, no. Hang on baby, calm down.” Steve stops you, his hands at your waist, keeping you seated on the table. He crowds you, holding you in place. “You didn’t honey, you didn’t. You’re okay.” He laughs. He’s laughing. You can’t believe it as you watch him. You begin to scowl, ready to be hurt and mad, but he hushes you with a kiss to your mouth.
You gasp and go silent, somehow more taken aback by this than anything he’s done yet. His mouth is so sure and confident over yours, his lips pillow soft but commanding. He pulls back from the kiss and looks at you. “You squirted, honey,” he explains, amusement still clear in his eyes, only now you’re calm enough that you can see the affection there, too. The satisfaction, the desire. He’s not making fun of you.
“What?” You look down to the end of the table, where you’d been splayed open for him. The paper covering and the vinyl padding of the table are soaked with a clear liquid. You look down to your lap, which is barely covered by the material of your bunched up sundress now. Between your thighs, it feels wet too. “I… I did?” you nearly whisper, astounded.
He laughs affectionately and leans in to kiss your forehead. “Yeah, Angel, you did. It was amazing.”
You flush and tuck your head down, feeling tingly from his obvious approval. The things he’d said about your body… “You really meant it?” you ask. “All the—”
“Yes,” he says firmly. He tips your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Hey,” he says gently. “Remember what you promised me.”
You squirm uncomfortably. Maybe he finds you attractive, but you can’t help but to worry about other guys, about the future partners you’ll have. Steve might like it, but he’s just one man. The fact remains that down between your legs, you still look like most of the before halves of the before and after pictures. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, apologetic to dismiss his opinion of you. “But I just… I want my next boyfriend to think I’m pretty, there,” you say reluctantly, glancing up at him.
He has a fierce gleam in his eyes as he boldly tells you, “He already does,” and then surges down to kiss you again.
It’s been a long day. With both his own patients and a bunch of Hickory’s to see to as well, Steve is pretty tired by the time 5:00 rolls around and the office staff is closing up. He changes out of his scrubs and lab coat, back into his gym shorts and sneakers that he’ll jog home in. That’s how Cassie finds him. “Brendan, check it out!” She holds up her phone for him to see the picture of a wet, vaguely purple-colored newborn. “Boy,” she tells him. “Five pounds, whatever ounces. Small but healthy. She says they’re naming him Grady Harrison.”
Steve grins. “Awww.” What a horrible name.
Cassie puts her phone away and tilts her head at him. “A bunch of us are going for drinks. You want to come?”
Steve shakes his head. “I’m beat. Gonna head home soon.”
“Mm. You know your nickname is Boring Brendan,” she teases, grabbing up her purse and heading for the exit.
“It is not,” he laughs, waving her out the door. “I’m just gonna finish up with a few notes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She waves goodbye and the office door falls shut, locking behind her because he’s the last one there and the office manager already left. Steve walks behind the partition of the nurse’s station and sits down, booting up one of the computers. He clicks the mouse over a few folders, typing in his password when it prompts him for entry into the patient data files. There’s one in particular whom he wants to learn everything he can about.
He finds the folder marked with her name:
Moreau, Ann J.
The corner of his mouth ticks up and he clicks to open the file. “Ann,” he murmurs the name, remembering the taste of her cunt against his tongue, filling his mouth, his senses. Mmm. She’d been delicious, exquisite. Not taking his eyes away from the computer screen, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tiny scrap of lace she'd left behind in her hurry to escape him. He holds the panties under his nose, inhaling. Fuck, he thinks, remembering her delicate body in that delicate cotton dress, how she'd cried out and creamed herself for him. So sweet.
He wants to learn more about her, fully plans on tracking her down and taking her on a date. On many dates, if he can.
Because he’s never been the type to be satisfied by just one taste.
Masterlist
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#sebastian stan#sebastian stan characters#fresh 2022#fresh movie#steve kemp#steve kemp x ofc#steve kemp x you#steve kemp x reader#au fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#sebastian stan fanfiction#fic writing#reader insert#reader fanfiction#reader fic
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Friends
Fandom: Fresh
Written For: Sebastian Stan Bingo
A/N: I do not own the pictures used, Anaya belongs to me. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. Please note this is a work of fiction, just because something is written doesn’t mean I as a writer agree with or condone it. Thank You. Any mistakes are my own.
A/N 2: Dividers made by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Bingo prompt is in bold.
Beta’d by: @endlesstwanted. Thank you so much for working with me.
Summary: Anaya has had a pretty rough life, finding a shred of light in a dark world. A year after her light died, she bumps into someone else.
Word Count: 3,749
Pairings: Steve Kemp x OFC
Warnings: Mentions of abuse, death, mentions of illness, flashback, kidnapping, blood, violence, Mentions of cannibalism, drinking and smut
Filled: @sebastianstanbingo Square: Spitting Blood
My Everything Tag List: @scarletwinchester84 @writercole @spnbaby-67
If you want on my tag list let me know or add yourself here >__<
Anaya flipped through the memories on her phone; it had been a year since her best friend died, leaving her all alone.
Anaya had never been good at making friends, coming from an abusive childhood she tended to keep to herself. When she turned eighteen she moved as far away from her parents as she could, meeting Kenzi shortly after.
At first they were just roommates in a dorm: Anaya minded her own business, and Kenzi eventually started dragging Anaya to parties and school events. When they graduated, Kenzie had asked Anaya to move in with her. Anaya had said yes.
After a few months the two were inseparable, Kenzi knew all of Anaya’s secrets and childhood, and Anaya knew hers; or so she thought.
Everything felt great to Anaya, finally happy to have a friend in such a cruel world. However, Kenzi got sick.
The sickness spread fast and just when they thought she was getting better, it hit her again, only harder this time. She tossed the phone down, tears filling her eyes.
Anaya had broken down, kept herself in their house whenever she wasn’t working or getting food.
She was at the grocery store getting a few things when she bumped into someone. “Sorry.”
“Not a problem, it was completely my fault.” The man smirked at her. “I’m Steve.”
She gave a half nod. “Okay,” she started to walk away.
“What’s your name?” Steve got in front of her.
“I don’t give out my name unless I’m at work.”
“And where is that? I’m a cosmetic surgeon.”
Anya sighed. “Look, I get that you’re being friendly, but don’t. I don’t do the whole friendship thing.”
“Everyone needs at least one friend.” Steve shrugged and smiled at her.
*Flash Back*
“Come on, everyone needs at least one friend.” Kenzi nudged her roommate. “Look, I don’t want to show up at a frat party alone.”
“Why?” Anaya looked up from her book.
“Because, they might take advantage of me.” Kenzi shrugged.
“Then don’t go.” Anaya rolled her eyes.
“Anaya, we have been in this dorm together for a few months, I don’t know why you keep to yourself but I think you should live a little, at least sometimes.”
“Not my thing.”
“Please. Come on, at least give me a chance.”
“Fine, but I’m telling you now. I don’t know how to ‘live’ or be a friend.”
Kenzi jumped up. “Yes! It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”
*Present*
Anaya shook her head. “Not me.” She walked off.
When she got home she put her groceries up and started a microwavable dinner, browsing her phone while she waited.
It had been a few weeks since her last one night stand, and she continued swiping away guys while she ate. After a while she sighed and sat the phone down.
If Kenzi were still around, she would tell her to go out. She was off work the next two days, anyways.
Anaya stared at the pictures of her friend. “I don’t need to go out, not tonight. I need you here, why did you have to go? Why couldn’t it have been me?”
She was cleaning up her house when she came across an old bag, it had been a gift from Kenzi. Something she kept, but had never used. Deciding to start using it, she grabbed her current bag and sat down to start switching things over.
First she looked in to make sure it was empty, finding an envelope. She pulled it out; on it was her name in Kenzi’s handwriting. She wondered why she didn’t notice it before and then decided to open it, inside there was a letter.
Anaya,
You found me! Look I know why you're reading this, I died. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone, knowing you probably a year. I mean, it’s a great bag, why are you just now using it? I’m getting off topic. Before I make you hate me (you can’t, I’m dead): you can’t do what you did in college. I know you were bullied and abused, but there are great people out there (like me) and you need at least one friend, someone you can settle down with and grow old (quit with the one night stands, it upset me in college and you can’t do it now. Don’t make me haunt you). Man this is getting long, sorry. I just want to make sure you keep living, for me. Now this is where you start to hate me (but you’re not allowed, cause I’m dead and it gives me a pass.) I knew I was going to die, so it’s not your fault. (Seriously, I know you, you probably think you’re cursed. You’re not!) See, when I was younger I was very sick. In and out of hospitals my whole childhood, like you, only for different reasons, and I’m sorry I never told you. You see, we thought we got rid of it and I finally got to leave for college and met you. I knew when I saw you that you needed a friend. When I got sick, I knew it was my past coming back but I couldn’t tell you, so I wrote this. Anaya, I need you to go out and keep trying the world isn’t always cruel. Not everyone is like your family. Keep walls up if you have to, but at least try to meet someone. And I know you’re going to ignore me about the one night stands, just be careful and stay away from the weird ones (let’s not repeat what happened in college.)
Love, Kenzie. P.S. I miss you too
Anaya wiped the tears from her face and folded the letter back up, sticking it in front of Kenzie’s picture. “Bitch.” She grabbed her wallet, keys, and then went out the door.
She headed to the bar, not planning on doing anything except drinking. She was working on her second jack and coke when someone sat beside her.
“Rough night?” Steve spoke, his voice soft and sweet.
She couldn’t believe she was seeing him again -perhaps it was fate, but she didn’t really believe in all that. She took a sip before deciding to respond. “Rough life.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He flagged the bartender. “I’ll have an old fashioned.”
“It happens, life can’t be all rainbows for everyone.” Anaya shrugged.
Steve chuckled. “I suppose you’re right, but surely it can’t be bad all the time.”
“I had a flash of goodness.”
“What happened?”
She thought a moment, wondering if she should just tell him to fuck off. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but the last time she let someone in she got hurt. “My best friend died.”
“That’s awful, I’m sorry. My sister died recently.” He took a sip.
“I’m sorry, I’m not close to my family. They don’t even know where I am.”
“I was only close to my sister.” He took a sip. “So you don’t talk to them? Ever?” Steve tilted his head a little.
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“So no friends, no family.”
Anaya shrugged. “I like being alone.”
Steve took another sip. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”
“Sure, but every once in a while I talk with a stranger and I’m good for a few more weeks.”
“That sounds like a very lonely life.”
“You can’t get hurt if you keep everyone away.”
“I suppose you have a point, but you know it’s still nice to have a friend, someone to notice if you go missing.”
She rolled her eyes, it was the same speech Kenzi used to give her. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She gave a half smile, standing up and walking away.
She was almost to her car when she was grabbed from behind. When she slammed her head back, the other person’s grip got tighter. She struggled more, only to have her head slammed against something.
When she came back, she was in a small room. Getting up, she looked around: there was a twin sized bed and a wooden chair. “Just great.” She tried the door, sighing when it wouldn’t budge.
Instead of panicking, she started to think of an escape plan. She wasn’t sure who grabbed her but she was sure she could probably hit them hard enough with the chair. Anaya was picturing Steve. She was pretty sure it had been him, just not a hundred percent.
The moment she heard the door unlocking she moved, standing behind the wooden chair.
“Oh, you’re finally awake.” A man she had never met smiled at her.
She gripped the chair. “What do you want with me?”
The man shrugged. “I haven’t fully decided. That will be based on your behavior. I overheard you at the bar saying you had no one, making you the perfect target. Are you hungry?”
She quickly lifted the chair and swung it. Once the man was down, she ran, but the man grabbed her leg causing her to fall, her head hitting hard on the floor. She could taste blood in her mouth.
“Fucking bitch!” The man drug her back, rolling her on her back. He stood and leaned over her. “That was not nice.”
She spit blood in his face. “Neither is kidnapping.”
He pulled her up by her hair. “Now you’ve done it.” He drug her up some stairs and into a room covered in plastic.
She jammed her elbow into his ribs, he let go and she took off again, slamming the door in his face. She headed to the front door, she had just made it when she heard him behind her. She turned the knob and mentally kicked herself when it turned out to be locked.
The man laughed. “Like I didn’t prepare for you trying to escape.”
She took off again, getting to the kitchen she grabbed a knife. “Stay away!”
“Okay.” The man grinned and pulled a gun from behind him. “So you’ve decided your fate.”
She gripped the knife tighter. “Shoot me, or let me go.”
“Is that really what you want? This is how you choose to die? Put the knife down, let’s go back to your room and maybe I will feed you after your punishment.”
“Go to hell!” She threw the knife and ducked down behind the counter.
“You missed.”
She crawled around when she heard him start walking, quickly crawling to a different room and hid.
“Come out, come out wherever you are.” He was in the same room as her. “You can’t hide forever.” She could hear him moving things around. “Maybe if you come out and beg for your life, I’ll let you live one more day.” She held her breath as his footsteps got closer.
She was just about to give up when she heard shuffling and things dropping.
“Who the fuck are you?!” Her kidnapper yelled.
She peeked out from the closet and Steve stood over the man, a smirk on his face. “That’s not important.” Steve looked over and made eye contact with her. “Get out of here. Don’t worry, the cops are on their way.”
She stepped out. “Are you coming?”
“I will leave after the cops show, you need to get to the hospital.” He reached in his pocket and handed her a paper. “That’s my number, you don’t have to keep it or use it, but I want you to have it.”
“How did you find me?” She carefully took the paper and stuck it in her pocket.
“Honestly, I saw him leave after you. I followed him, caught up to him just in time to see him throw you in his truck and leave. I followed him in my car and then lost him, so I called the cops and gave them his license plate number while I continued searching for him.”
She gave a slight nod. “Well, thanks.” She quickly took off outside, not stopping until she was far enough away.
When she got home, she caught herself sitting on her couch and looking at the paper. Maybe having a friend could come in handy. She wasn’t fully sure about his story, though.
She sat the paper down and grabbed a drink, a few drinks down later she picked the paper up and dialed the number.
She wasn’t expecting him to pick up but he did in two rings, “hello?”
“Hi, it’s Anaya. You, uh saved me recently.”
“I remember, are you doing okay?”
She started pacing her living area. “Uh, yeah. I was thinking maybe we can get a drink sometime, as my way of thanking you.”
Steve chuckled. “That sounds great. This Friday?”
“Yeah, seven work for you?” She bit her lip.
“I can do seven, text me where.”
She let out her breath, not even realizing she had been holding it. “Okay, sure.” Once she hung up the phone she plopped down on her couch and looked at the picture of her best friend.
“I can’t promise to let him in, Kenz, but for you I will try.” She took the last sip and passed out.
Friday came faster than she had hoped, having almost canceled several times. She couldn’t promise herself to make a friend, but the guy had saved her and he was pretty good looking, she could probably at least use him as a one night stand.
She spent hours trying to find the perfect outfit, finally deciding on a tight blue dress and her hair up. For make up she put on mascara, light blue eyeshadow and some lip gloss. She looked at herself one last time before leaving.
Steve was already sitting at the bar when she got to the location, her hand paused on the handle as she bit her bottom lip. Taking a deep breath, she finally headed over to him.
“Hello.” She gave him a friendly smile.
He looked over, stood and hugged her. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you. You look pretty great yourself.” She noticed his suit as they sat down beside each other.
“Not that I'm complaining, but what made you change your mind?”
“Who says I did?” Anaya smiled, pressing her lips to the glass.
“Well,” Steve chuckled. “You called me, then asked me out.”
“I do believe I said it was for saving me, maybe after this I plan on never seeing you again.” Anaya took a drink.
“I’m hard to forget.”
“Is that so?” She chuckled.
“It is, and you know I never got your name.”
“Anaya, my name is Anaya.”
“It's nice to officially meet you, Anaya.”
A few drinks later, Anaya and Steve were walking into her house. Their bodies entwined together as she unlocked the door and went inside. Steve kicked the door shut, deepening the kiss. A few moments later she broke the kiss, grabbed his hand, and led him to the bedroom.
She shut her bedroom door and began undressing. “Is this too fast for you?” She paused, her hands on her underwear.
Steve chuckled and bit his lip. “Not at all. However I will admit I wasn’t expecting this.”
Anaya shrugged. “I may not have friends, but I do enjoy the occasional one night stand.”
“Ah, so that’s all this is?” Steve pulled her to him and kissed her neck, then the top of her breast.
“It is.” She pushed him down on the bed and straddled him, his hands instantly going to her hips and gripping tightly.
He kissed her, rolling and putting her beneath him. He broke the kiss, standing and undressing and then getting back on top of her, taking her hands and pinning them above her. He leaned down and kissed her again, then moved to her neck, down to her breast, to her stomach.
He bit the inside of her thigh, causing her to give a soft moan. He moved one of his hands to her breasts, squeezing as his tongue entered her.
She bit her bottom lip when she felt his tongue, her hands staying put above her head as she let him take control. A moan escaped from her as his tongue moved around, her hands moving to her sides, gripping the sheets.
He licked up from her stomach to her breast; squeezing one as he began to suck on the other, switching after a moment.
She let out another moan as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He bit down hard on her neck, causing her to dig her nails into his back, so he gave a low growl and looked at her.
She leaned up and kissed his lips, kissed his neck before biting down just as hard as he had.
She grinned at him as she shoved and rolled, putting herself back on top of him. She placed one hand on his chest then moved down, gripping his cock and stroking as she leaned down and kissed him. Once she felt him twitch, she moved down and licked up his stomach, a moan escaping from him.
Anaya smirked and lined herself with him, sitting down. His hands gripped her hips tightly as she began to move slowly, both of her hands on his chest. Their nails were digging into each other as she moved faster.
One of his hands moved from her hip to her hair, gripping a handful and pulling as he started to bounce her. She moaned as her head was moved back, tightening herself around him and causing him to growl.
Her nails scratched down his chest as they picked up the pace, another moan escaping her. He pulled her hair again, this time rolling over. His other hand moved to her throat as he rammed inside her.
She wrapped herself around him as he slammed into her once more, her head lifting back, her nails digging into his back. He grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head,slamming into her again. Her legs dropped down to the bed and he slammed in her again, making her knees come up and her toes curl as she let out a loud moan.
His free hand went back to her throat as he continued, ramming into her harder than before, a moan escaping both of them.
“Fuck!” She screamed as he went harder, her fists clenching as she felt herself about to release.
Her legs dropped as she finally did, he slammed into her a few more times before pulling out and releasing as well. He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath.
“Wanna, uh. Want to get up so I can go get cleaned up?”
“Let me help you.” He smirked.
“Okay, but I’m gonna hop in the shower. You’re welcome to join me.”
After the shower, he followed her to the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”
“Sure.” He started to look around.
She was almost done with the tea when he picked up a picture. “Kenzi.” It was barely a whisper but it was enough to make her look at him.
“What?” She turned to face him.
“This girl in this picture, is that your best friend?”
She nodded and handed him a cup as he set the frame back down. “The one and only.”
“Did she ever mention me?” He made eye contact with Anaya. “I’m Brendan.”
“I thought your name was Steve?” Anaya arched her brow.
“Brendan Steve Kemp.” He sighed and set the cup down. “Kenzi was my sister.”
“The one that wasn’t at her funeral. Yeah, she talked about you, great things actually. Wanted us to meet.”
“She didn’t want me at her funeral because she knew it would cause trouble with our parents.” Steve shrugged. “I should have gone anyway.”
“Look, I completely understand wanting to do as she said.” Anaya took a sip of her tea as she thought of what to say next. “Maybe we can be friends after all.”
Steve’s lips tightened before he smiled. “Sure.”
“Sure? I’m sorry, wasn't the whole point of all this to prove to me that you wanted to be in my life?”
“Actually no.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not really a great person. I picked you specifically because you are alone.”
She set her cup down and backed away from him. “That's sounding very murderous of you.”
“Probably, because I was going to gain your trust, get you to my place, drug you and keep you locked up as I slowly cut you up and ate you; as well as sold some of your meat to other people that would eat you too.” He shrugged as he picked up his tea cup and took a sip.
“And you’re not, now? Even though you just told me your plans?” She backed up to her counter, her hand trying to find a knife without breaking eye contact with him.
“I like you, and that was before I realized you knew my sister.I will admit that liking you wasn’t going to change the outcome.” He paused. “Kenzi did, she would never forgive me if I killed her best friend.”
“She’s not here anymore.”
He nodded. “True, but that doesn’t change the fact.” He set the cup down and moved closer, his body pressed against hers as he grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back. “I’m not going to do any of that, and I would very much like to be your friend.” He paused. “However, if you tell on me or even try to, for that matter, not only will I get away with the accusations but I will find you and kidnap you too.”
“So you expect me to just go along with everything? Be friends, like I don't know you’re some cannibalistic freak?”
Steve chuckled. “Think of it this way, I will protect you like she did, only I can do it better.”
Anaya looked away from him, he had made a point and was offering to let her live. All she had to do was keep his secret. “Did she know?”
“She did. And even though she disapproved, she kept the secret.” He grinned. “However she did try to get me to find your parents, but didn’t actually want to, so she never gave me names.”
Anaya looked back at him. “You know? She told you, about me?”
“A few minor details.” He moved one of his hands to her chin. “I can protect you.”
“Fine, I will be your friend. As long as you don’t try to turn me into a cannibal.”
Steve laughed. “Deal.”
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Could you write something where steve kemp meets reader's very protective family and they doesn’t really like him?
A/N: Ofc! I hope this is what you wanted!
Pairing: Steve Kemp x gn!reader
TW: Steve being Steve, me assuming reader has two parents (both not assuming any genders), abuse and manipulation
MINORS DNI !!! 🔞
Word Count: 199
So, let’s just say for this, you had been with Steve for quite a while and he had started to allow you more independence. Also, for the sake of this, let’s just say you have a family (unlike most of the rest of the others in he keeps).
Steve is very used to being able to charm his way out of any scenario, it’s what he does. He is extremely proud of this, after all, his manipulation is his most powerful tool. However, the second he meets the eyes of your parents, he clams up. He knows they see through him, and it scares him. Never in his life has he been this disarmed. He tries to compensate with a joke or two, but it’s useless.
By the time you two have left, he’s fighting back a full-out panic attack. It would take you calming him down on the drive back, assuring him that your parents didn’t really hate him, that they were always like that, etc., for him to finally feel safe. Regardless of how much you try to soothe him, however, it would still be a long, long time before he ever lets you see them again.
#i don't even know if this is what you wanted ;-;#i'm so sorry#pauliluv#answered asks#steve kemp#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x gn!reader#fresh#fresh movie#sebastian stan
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Ghost
Chapter 5 of The Neighborhood Series
Dark Ari/Freezy/Bucky/Lee x Dark Ofc
Summary: Bucky meets his match, and she is more than meets the eye. She has her own agenda, and this neighborhood may never be the same
Warnings
This is a dark story, as are all of the other parts. Do not read if it will upset you in any way. I am not responsible for holding your hand or your media consumption
“Is everyone clear on the plans?” Ari asked, taking a pull off his smoke as he looked around. Steve, Ransom, and Kemp nodded silently, confirming things were set on their end. Ari looked over to his left, sighing in exasperation from the lack of response. “Freezy, are you fucking with us here?” Ari snapped his fingers directly in front of the hitman’s eyes.
“Jesus fuck, yes asshole. I get it. I’m not fucking deaf, and I’m not a complete moron like the other three dickheads. Can we start now?” Freezy pulled a smoke from his pack, pulling out his lighter, his eyes glowing from the flame.
“Don’t forget who this is for, cocksucker. I don’t need to help you at all if this is how you’re going to act,” Ari replied, a hard line of disapproval sealing his lips.
“Don’t act like you’re doing this for anyone else but yourself, Levinson.” Freezy pulled another drag, then pointed the cigarette towards Ari. “You want Bodecker and Barnes out just as much as the rest of us. And not because they did anything to you, solely because they scare you,” Freezy spat, his anger rising every second he thought of Lee.
Time may have passed since Freezy lost his puppy, but she was never far from his mind, and neither was killing Bodecker. Had he known the little skank from yesterday was Lee’s, he wouldn’t have hesitated to take her, torture and taint her, break her very being down into nothing. He wouldn’t kill her, that would be too easy. He would make her an empty shell of the woman Lee had found, a vessel without a soul. So completely broken and useless, devoid of any emotions.
When Freezy first approached Ari, it was with intent to rid the neighborhood, and world, of one Lee Bodecker. As time passed though, he decided he didn’t want to kill Lee. Oh no, death was too easy for that asshole. No. He wanted to break him, take away everything he held close: Bucky, his parents, his next project. Anything Lee cared about, Freezy wanted to destroy, keeping Bodecker from ever feeling any happiness again. Empty and alone, like Lee had left him.
Freezy had tried to move on, throwing himself into his work, keeping so busy, he wouldn’t have time to think. But he couldn’t work twenty four hours a day. And in those moments when he was alone, he often sat in the dark, drinking his soul away, never feeling whole or complete. His puppy made him whole, and now she was just another body in the freezer. He hadn’t been able to part with her yet, storing her as his daily reminder of revenge.
“Come on, Bobby,” Kemp said, clapping his roommate on the shoulder. “You work non stop, and when you do get a break, you lock yourself away and drink with the devil. You need to move on from this, pal,” Kemp continued, completely ignoring the side eye Freezy gave. “We haven’t played together in so long. Let’s do this right and get back
to our lives.”
“I said I fucking got it. Get the fuck off my nuts about this. Dumb and Dumber over there may need every last detail explained, but I don’t,” Freezy said, putting out his smoke on the ashtray with more force than necessary.
“Oooh Bobby, don’t get so feisty. I know it’s been a while since anyone sucked your cock, so I’m going to let your comment slide,” Ransom replied with a smirk as he took another bite of his biscot. Playboy, fuckboy, whatever you could think of as an insult, that was Ransom Drysdale. He paid for his freedom, pinning the murder of his grandfather, and benefactor, on the old man’s poor nurse, swooping in to comfort her while also setting her up. He would go on record saying she was the best pussy he ever had. He always said those little foreign sluts were better than any cunt walking around here.
“Fuck you, Drysdale. At least mommy and daddy didn’t have to buy me my pussy. Suck my balls,” Freezy said, lewdly grabbing his sack while flipping the bird at Ransom. Freezy knew this was the easiest way to get under the rich boy’s skin. He hadn’t hunted. He hadn’t trained his pussy. Nope. Mommy and Daddy scoured every dark web site they could find to get the pretty boy his match. Having to already deal with Harlan’s murder and making sure Marta took the fall, they didn’t want to take anymore chances.
Before Ransom had a chance to respond, a small voice broke the tension.
“If I may, I think I might have some insight on how to dismantle these two from the inside,” the small voice squeaked. She stepped out from the shadows where she had been listening completely unobserved. Only Freezy knew she was there, she being his secret weapon for this task. She was petite, dressed in black, wide leg slacks, a grey shimmer blouse, and heels to complete the outfit. She didn’t look like one who would be involved in this conversation or situation, and that is what made her the most lethal hitman, hitwoman, hitperson right now. Freezy didn’t know what was the preferred term with political correctness and shit, but he did not want to piss her off.
Her small stature and even smaller presence had lulled many victims into a false sense of security, taking one look and dismissing her as docile and sweet. She was sweet, very polite and pretty, but she could kill a man three times her size in less than thirty seconds. She was often able to walk right out past the police or security as she didn’t stand out and was not memorable.
Freezy knew better than to underestimate her, the one they called Ghost because no one had ever actually been able to give an accurate description of her, only seeming to remember generic details which could be used to describe any female. He knew one of these assholes would fuck up and he was here for it. He needed a good laugh.
“Listen sweetheart , I don’t know who you belong to, but the whores don’t get to speak. Go find your master and suck him off, put that mouth to good use,” Ransom sneered patting Ghost on the head patronizingly.
“Well, I’m here as a guest…” Ghost started to explain before she was once again cut off.
“Run along and find your master. This is men’s business, and a sweet little thing like you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Ransom stated condescendingly. “In fact, why don’t you go grab some beers and make some snacks like the good girl you are.” Ari and Steve snickered along with Ransom, but Freezy moved to get a better view of what was about to happen.
A cry of pain and anger rang out, and Freezy started laughing. Before Ransom could even turn his back on her, Ghost reached out and grabbed his balls, twisting them around each other.
“I’ve just given you testicular torsion. I would recommend seeking medical intervention immediately or else blood flow will stop and your testicles will need to be removed,” Ghost said quietly, her tone never shifting, and without having to move from where she was standing.
Ransom fell to the ground, writhing in pain. “YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he screamed, rage replacing pain as the adrenaline kicked in.
“Mr. Drysdale, I would highly suggest your friend, Mr. Rogers, get you to an emergency room immediately. We wouldn’t want you to lose what little shred of manhood you have left. From what I felt, the balls pack a bigger punch than the main attraction.” Ghost smiled sweetly, looking almost childlike in her innocence.
Ari couldn’t hold back his laugh any longer, doubled over with tears streaming down his face. Drysdale had been a massive pain in the ass since his arrival, but Ari wasn’t allowed to touch him. Rules and what not.
Freezy smirked, looking at, for lack of a better term, a friend and colleague, happy Drysdale had finally suffered the consequences of his actions.
“Gentlemen, may we get started now? As I previously stated, I have an idea on destroying the brothers from the inside. Robert, you said Bucky was in search of his own pet?” Freezy nodded, confirming what had been previously discussed. “Why not make me the bait? I go in, Bucky thinks I’m his, I kill the girl, I kill his mother and father, I torture Bucky until he’s pleading for a swift death, and Lee has to watch it all, knowing he caused this to happen.”
“Ghost, you’re a fucking genius,” Freezy said, his plan starting to fall in line. He’d waited two long years for this. Another week or so wouldn’t matter. Remembering how his puppy had looked, Freezy went over Bucky’s preferences, and stated he would pay for all procedures needed to fit Ghost into that mold.
“I will head to the salon, also some shopping for new clothes based on your information, Robert. We will meet back in one weeks time to lay out the final plan and then get Barnes to take the bait. Are there any questions?”
“One: will you fucking marry me?” Ari joked, completely and utterly blown away by this short but deadly weapon in his presence. Ghost smiled, feeling her face heat up at the half joke.
“I apologize Mr. Levinson, but you aren’t my type,” Ghost replied, not meanly, just matter of fact.
“Ouch, that hurts deeply, sweetness,” Ari said, mock sorrow and pain laced in his commentary. Ghost laughed, a small sound like a mouse. Freezy looked around, ready to fuck shit up, and he couldn’t see any other way to do it except with Ghost. This was going to be fun.
————————————-
A week later, Ghost returned with her newly updated look: hair, clothes, shoes, even eye color. Freezy, Ari, Steve, and Kemp were already waiting on her arrival. Ransom chose to stay home, not wanting to face her quite yet. He said it was because he would “kill the bitch on sight,” but Freezy was pretty sure it was because he had to wear a sling for his balls to heal. It made him look like an emaciated sumo wrestler with bladder control problems.
The plan was simple: Ari and Steve would act as if Ghost was a reject of theirs knowing she matched every aspect Bucky looked for, especially the doe eyed innocence she naturally projected. Ari would drag her out into the neighborhood with Rogers making sure Bucky was home. As they pretend to hurt her, or in this case, actually hurt her, they were banking on Bucky interfering and staking a claim. She would allow him to take her, “train her”, and once she had his trust, she would strike. At least, this is what she allowed Ari, Steve, Kemp, and Freezy to think.
Ghost checked her reflection again, wanting to be nothing short of perfect when she finally came face to face with her soulmate, one Bucky Barnes. Ghost had seen him a few months ago on a job Bucky helped Lee with, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. His broad shoulders and chest, his chestnut hair flowing down to his shoulders, sometimes down, most times back in a bun. She liked both looks but that isn’t what excited her. Soon she’d be able to run her fingers through those soft locks, either in affection or while fucking, she really didn’t care how.
This was so out of character for Ghost, she actually felt like a silly school girl. She never actually got to be one, being ushered into the business at the ripe age of thirteen, sold by her alcoholic and druggie father for his next fix. The men never touched her, that wasn’t their style. They saw the opportunity to get ahead and help a child in a bad situation. Two birds, one stone.
Ghost trained for four years, never alone. She learned how to be seen but never really be focused on. She learned how to use her innocence to catch the guilty, finding more monsters out in the world than people actually knew about. She was sold to the most efficient and elite killing company, learning from only the best. She lured many men to their deaths, and some women although those were few and far in between. Most of the bad people were men and she set up her own code of killing after seeing this world for the depraved wasteland it truly was.
As she grew older, they started to train her to become a killer as she excelled in the art of staying anonymous. The victims never suspected her, nor did anyone else pay her enough attention to see her intent. She became the first Dexter, before Dexter was actually mainstream. On her eighteenth birthday, her benefactors gave her the most glorious present in existence: her first kill, who happened to be her junkie father. Although selling her had ultimately led to a better life, the fact remained she was sold to complete strangers for a forty and a bump.
She learned her love of the psychological torture from this kill. He didn’t remember her at first, so she cut off his toes and fingers, cauterizing the wounds as she went to keep him alive and present. She proceeded to apply deep cuts throughout his body while avoiding all major veins and arteries. She regaled him with the tales of her childhood, things he let happen. The touching, the strange men she would be left with as collateral, the molestation. She didn’t cry through all of that, no. She was too strong and willful, she refused to bend and break. Even at her youngest age and memory, the only feeling she held onto was the cold and empty shell she created to protect her. She promised herself she would have her revenge, and she did.
After torturing her father with cut after cut, amputation after amputation, she slit his throat, his neck resembling a smile when all was said and done. She didn’t feel better, she thought a weight would be lifted, but the shell was still empty. It wasn’t until she started hunting and killing every last asshole who touched her, groped her, used her for their sick fantasies that she started to heal.
The first time she saw Bucky, she knew he was different. She’d seen monsters up close and they all had a certain look in their eyes. Freezy has the look, as do all of the men in this neighborhood. Well, except for Bucky, the cop Shea, and the golden retriever with the horrible dye job, Jensen. Lee almost had the look, but over the few months she’d been watching and learning, the look slowly dissipated with the arrival of a new female in that household. She had to tamper down the rage and jealousy she felt knowing Bucky had touched this other woman. He wasn’t hers yet, she didn’t have any room to be angry.
That changed today. She watched carefully for months, taking in his schedule, learning his different looks, watching him eat his favorite foods, watching him stroke his dick before she came along, then watching him fuck her. She watched him work, his kills flawless, his technique a work of art. He could write the perfect How to be a Hitman for Dummies series, proving his worth once again. But now, now it was time for Ghost to claim Bucky, to make him whole, the way he made her whole. He didn’t know it yet, but he would. And he would never hurt her, not like the others, he would never leave her, he was her forever.
She gave herself one last look, took a deep breath, and made her way over to Freezy’s. Robert Fucking Pronge. He was not going to be happy with this turn of events, but honestly, what did he expect. He was always nice enough, never one of the men who underestimated her or treated her differently because she was a woman. He showed her plenty of respect, but when she found out where he lived, she worked more, got to know him, let him open himself up until she came up with the perfect plan.
If Pronge made a wrong move, she wouldn’t hesitate to put him down. She hoped it didn’t come to that, but she would always choose Bucky. If that meant choosing Lee too, then her path was clear and she would do what needed to be done. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, she respected Pronge, but he was no different than any of her other jobs/victims. Happy with her reflection, she started the trek down the street to Pronge’s house, directly towards her future. And it never seemed brighter.
—————————————
Ari grabbed Ghost by the back of her shirt, pulling her behind him down the street. She knew he had to make it believable, but a small part of her realized Ari lived for beating women. Rogers went around to the houses, calling all the neighborhood out, but especially making sure Bucky and Lee were present.
Ransom stood on his porch, hidden from plain sight to watch this little bitch get hurt, even if it wasn’t real. He couldn’t wait for this to play out, although he’d have to appreciate it away from the others so they wouldn’t make fun of his dick and balls. He snapped his fingers, making his slut jump and massage his neck.
“Think you can sneak in here, try and break into my house?! Do you have any idea what men like me do to whores like you?” Ari screamed, kicking Ghost in her ribs. She was so used to hiding her pain and compartmentalizing, she actually had to act out when she was hit or kicked. She fell to her knees, gripping her side and crying.
She looked around her, trying to not only garner sympathy from these assholes, but to also find her target. As she locked eyes with Shea and Jensen, who turned their heads, trying not to acknowledge what was currently happening. Kemp, Freezy, and Rogers laughed with every blow landed, Ari now holding Ghost by her hair and smacking her cheeks and ass. She made herself small, trying to hide yet be seen.
Bucky and Lee walked over, and she knew this was the moment. She looked at Bucky, locking eyes and asking for his help. She had blood dripping down her face, bruises already forming on her cheeks, and difficulty breathing from most likely a few broken ribs. Take the bait, she screamed internally, waiting for her rescue.
“What the fuck are you doing, Ari?” Bucky yelled, moving towards Levinson, and prying his hand out of her hair. He moved between her and the much larger man, offering immediate protection. Ghost collapsed, needing a moment to compose herself. This was it, she was ready, and he was hers.
“This bitch wandered into our neighborhood and tried to break into my garage. She needs to learn her place, and that there are rules and consequences when said rules are broken,” Ari replied, pulling a gun from his waistband. “Get the fuck out of the way, Barnes.”
“You stupid cocksucker. You can’t just kill her. Your rules, remember? Besides, even Shea wouldn’t be able to make this one disappear.” Turning around, he kneeled down and lifted Ghost’s face up to look at him.
“What’s your name, little one?” he asked, concerned yet fascinated with her presence all at once. He couldn’t describe this feeling, it’s as if some part of his soul immediately recognized hers, making him feel complete for the first time in his life. Even his first catch never made him feel this way. He knew she was his. Ghost gave the first generic name that came to mind, then collapsed unconscious, finally succumbing to her injuries.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Levinson. I claim her. I’m taking her with me,” Bucky said, gathering Ghost in his arms. He turned around and started walking back to his house with his little one, knowing Lee would protect them. Lee understood this feeling, it’s what he felt with his Dollface.
“The fuck you are!” Ari screamed, raising his gun to the back of Bucky’s head. Lee stepped in, pulling his own guns out, aiming at Ari and Freezy, his cold stare never wavering.
“I fucking dare you,” Lee replied. He would love nothing more than to drop these two idiots, not only for himself, but for what they forced him to do to his brother.
“What the fuck ever. You can have that fucking slut,” Freezy said, taking a drag from his smoke and blowing it directly into Lee’s face. “You two love the strays, just make sure he keeps his pussy on a leash.”
Ari smirked, lowering and uncocking his gun. “If I catch her stepping out of line even once, she gets a bullet in her head.” Ari turned on his heels and headed towards his house, Freezy and Rogers doing the same. If only they had any clue what was going to happen. Because if they did, they would have executed Ghost immediately. Instead, they allowed Bucky to take her, sealing their fates.
Requested tags: @cjand10 @kitty1960
#dark story#dark bucky barnes#darker than i intended#Bucky x Ghost#sorry if this sucks#Ari is an asshole#ransom drysdale#ransom got what he deserved#soft!dark lee bodecker#soft!dark bucky barnes
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Ignore it if you're uncomfortable💕
Reader catching Steve eating um... "meat" or put suspicion on foods he cook cuz it's a little different from usual meat😔
Idk choose one or maybe both or maybe none
ANYTHING FOR STEVE KAMP I'M EVAPORATING RN
This will be a story told in infrequent, anachronistic snippets, as I love the story idea but don't really want to commit to another WIP. I hope you enjoy!
📖"Amuse Bouche"
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Steve Kemp x Reader
Tags: cannibalism, held hostage, basement wife, captor/captive, dark Steve
Summary: Amuse-Bouche (/əˌmuːzˈbuːʃ/; French; N.) : to delight the mouth.
You feel your ears buzzing as you sit across the island, frozen in place. The soft sounds of Steve's knife against the cutting board drumming in your ears inordinately loud, warring with the drum of your own thundering pulse. You lick your lips nervously, biting your tongue to keep from saying anything.
"Everything okay, Hon?"
You blink, startled out of your thoughts and surprised to find Steve staring at you from where he's working, his eyes boring into you, rather than the raw meat under his hand, the chef's knife in the other. Your heart pounds hard in your chest, and you're sure he can hear it, can tell exactly what you're thinking.
What are you thinking?
"Y-yeah," you stammer, forcing a smile. Oh god, he can tell. He knows what you're -
"Good." His smile is sweet and honest, unsuspecting, and he goes back to his work on the cutting board. You swallow, your mouth horribly dry. "Just hungry, huh?" Steve smirks down at his bloodied hands. "Really worked up an appetite this afternoon."
You chuckle nervously, shifting in place on the barstool. "Haha, yep. Yeah."
"Mm. Well I know how to fix that," he says. Eyes still on the meat.
You look down nervously to it again, and away again before he can catch you looking and see the thoughts going through your head. You avert your gaze around the kitchen. - the beautiful kitchen.
It'd seemed like such an easy mark. Middle of nowhere, no visible security. Single occupant who went away for hours at a time. It'd been easy to case. You'd thought you'd make out good on this one. Just one more job. A little more money to get you in a good spot. Then you'd go straight.
It hadn't worked out that way.
The links on your cuff make a quiet sound as you shift. You reach for your wine glass and take a big sip. It slides over your tongue in a burst of flavors: fruity and lush, decadent yet light. It's red wine, a Beaujolais, your favorite. Steve always pours it for you before dinner, and you always drink it as you watch him cook.
Lately you've been drinking it faster.
Your eyes are back on the bloody cutting board when Steve's amused voice jars you back to attention,
"Need another pour already?"
Your eyes jerk up to him in fright, and it must show on your face, because he sobers. "Hon? What is it?"
You fake another smile - something you've gotten quite good at, ever since you woke up one day in a carpeted cell. "Nothing," you assure him, batting your eyelashes and drinking the last few sips from your glass. You set it back down on the counter. "I think I would like some more, please."
Steve squints at you briefly, concerned, or maybe suspicious, but your smile seems to do the trick and he sighs good naturedly. "Okay, why not?" He sets the knife down on the cutting board and turns his back to you, going to the sink to rinse his hands. "I'm chilling a white for the main, and I thought we could have that honey wine with dessert."
"Oh." You can't keep your eyes off the cutting board - on the carefully trimmed hunks of meat that don't taste like anything you've ever had before ... and on the knife. "That sounds nice."
Steve chuckles. "My little woman loves her dessert wines."
You could reach it. It's within reach. If you just leant across the counter, you'd be able to -
Steve 's hand appears in your field of vision and you flinch. He's reaching to take your empty glass. He eyes you knowingly as he pours from the bottle of Beaujolais. You expect him to say something, but he just finishes pouring and slides the glass back across the countertop to you. "There you go," he says, staring at you.
You lick your lips and swallow heavily, feeling caught. He knows. "Thank you, Steve," you whisper.
The edge of his mouth twitches up. "You're welcome, Little thief."
Your guts churn at the words he's somehow turned into a term of endearment. Steve's no fool. He knew you'd look. He put the knife within reach to test you, and you've failed the test. Internally you sigh, and you meekly sip your wine. You've got a long time to go before you'll be able to get the better of him.
"What's for dinner?" you ask, resigned, eyes back on the mystery meat.
"Rosemary."
"What?" You look up at him, catching the tail end of something indecipherable in his eyes. "Rosemary?" you ask, heart beating faster.
"Mm." He nods and goes to pull something out of the fridge. He returns with a bundle of green herbs. Your shoulders slump. Oh. rosemary. Right. "I'm cooking it sous vide with herbs," he says, and starts plucking the needles off the stalk. "Rosemary, Thyme, bit of sage."
You nod vacantly, thinking of the Francisco Goya that Steve has hanging in the hallway: Saturn Devouring His Son. You used to appreciate his quirky taste in art, had planned to get rich off it. But now you're starting to suspect there's something else to it.
Still, you know it'll infuriate Steve if you refuse to eat the food he's prepared for you, so you focus on sipping your wine steadily, hoping to maybe get another pour in before the meal.
You don't ask what it is that he's cooking sous vide. But deep down, you think you know.
This has been a fill for: @badthingshappenbingo
Card: sarah-writes-stucky / sarahyellow
Square O4: Kidnapping
Masterlist
#bad things happen bingo#steve kemp#steve kemp x ofc#steve kemp x y/n#steve kemp x reader#steve kemp x you#fresh hulu#fresh 2022#fresh movie#sebastain stan#bingos n bangs#my asks#basement wife#held hostage#held captive#yandere#dark fanfic
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Pairing: Steve Kemp x reader
Rating: Mature
Tags: sex worker reader, escorting, sugar baby/daddy
Summary: The first time you met Steve was in a hotel bar
"It's an underappreciated artform, the sitting around in hotel bars and exuding the right kind of allure, drawing in the right kind of men."
First Encounters: Steve Kemp
You've never taken offense at the term "prostitute."
"Whore," "hooker," "call girl," "escort," "lady of the night." They're all just different words to describe the same thing: sex for money. An exchange of goods and services that took you from an indebted college student to a lady of leisure in only two short years.
You live in a gorgeous apartment on the upper east side, have a massive wardrobe, access to endless beauty treatments, VIP membership at Equinox gym, a bevy of handsome suitors, and more leisure time than you know what to do with. So you couldn't really care less what people want to call you.
But as they say: "it takes money to make money." Back then, you hadn't exactly had an extra grand lying around for designer lingerie or boutique hair appointments or Botox, so you'd gotten started at an Agency, where—in exchange for a demoralizing thirty percent cut of your profits—a team of other people were willing to spend tons of money to turn you into a perfectly polished, highly desirable product.
Back then you'd been doing more traditional sex work, and maintained a full client list. You would refer to yourself as an "escort" or a "girlfriend" around said clients, depending on what seemed to make the man of the hour happiest. The men would always wind up calling you by your first name, or else by whatever silly pet names they inevitably came up with—Kemp, for example, has always liked to call you "Angel" and "Bunny."
And speaking of Kemp: he was the first of The Five that you met, back then; back before you ever knew you'd wind up being the kept woman of five different sugar daddies.
It'd been winter. You remember because you'd just set out on your own, and that meant giving up the Agency's private door to door car service; which meant sometimes navigating the slushy, snowy New York sidewalks—in heels—on the way to your ... engagements.
You'd parted from the Agency on good terms, bringing with you a decent but not robust client list of about two dozen gentlemen. Most of them were infrequent flyers, however, so business wasn't exactly steady. With a lease in Manhattan and other bills to pay, you'd taken to spending your evenings out on the town, dipping your toes into the fancy sorts of watering holes where the city's elite tended to congregate.
The sorts of men you entertained would often want you to come to their own private residences, but that was strictly against your rules, especially since you were newly absent the Agency's security personnel. The environment in which you met clients had to be somewhere you could maintain control, and that meant either hotel rooms booked by you, or else a private location of your own. Since you hadn't yet gotten the funds to rent out a second apartment purely for gentleman callers back then, hotels were where you worked. And their smokey, soulful lounges were where cast your line.
It's an underappreciated artform, the sitting around in hotel bars and exuding the right kind of allure, drawing in the right kind of men.
You'd been channeling the 90's that night with your sheer black stockings, velvet pumps, and a scandalously short LBD. Your hair had been freshly set and brushed out into Veronica Lake waves. Your lips, lined and matte red, sipped vacantly on a martini as you purposefully made yourself look like a woman sulking over being stood up. That was when Kemp had glanced over from the bar with that unmistakable glint of male interest in his eyes.
You'd clocked the Rolex as soon as he was withing speaking distance, and your eyes dragged slowly up his body: Gucci shoes, Versace bespoke suit, salon-cut hair. Oh yes. He would do nicely.
"I'm sorry, maybe this is forward, but I saw you alone over here and wondered if maybe you'd like some company?
"Do I look that lonely?"
"Perhaps not. But a woman as beautiful as you shouldn't be sitting alone at all. It's a waste."
You'd smiled coyly and feigned being flattered, then pouted over the imaginary date who'd stood you up, scooting your chair to the side and welcoming him to join within flirtatious proximity on your side of the table.
An hour spent talking and sipping cocktails together had you aware of his general profile: married, kids, from Portland; in town frequently for work, surgeon, rich; handsome, witty, and amiable enough to talk to.
Another hour had him aware of your profession, agreeing to your fee, and offering to take you upstairs.
But of course you'd said, "Oh no, silly. That's not how it works." You'd trailed your finger up the edge of his lapel with a demure smile. "We have to get to know one another."
"Yes."
You'd slid your business card across the table with one nude, lacquered nail, and told him how thrilled you were to have met him, and that he would need to make an appointment with your "secretary" if he wished to see more of you. A luncheon was first required, and then the two of you could move on from there, depending on his wants and needs.
"I had a great time with you this evening, Brendan," you'd simpered, standing and smoothing out the lines of your dress, picking up your clutch and tossing your hair over your shoulder. "I do hope I hear from you."
Many lesser working girls wouldn't have shown such restraint. They would've taken the sure thing and allowed Brendan Steven Kemp to whisk them away in the hotel elevator, lay them out on six hundred thread count sheets, and have his merry way with them for a guaranteed sum.
But even back then, you'd known better than that. Sure, you ran the risk of never hearing from him again, but that was the price one paid when going for the bigger fish. You weren't interested in reeling in the sorts of clients who only wanted a one and done.
You were on the hunt for big game, the sort of men who got off not just on having you in the moment, but also on knowing that they had you in reserve, waiting in the wings for their own capricious desires, whenever they should arise. It was the getting you and keeping you; the wanting to feel alive again on the regular, whisked away from boring lives and mundane wives.
So you played the long game, knowing that the right sorts of men will call back, if it's meant to be.
No ultra-high-value man goes after something easy more than once. But if you only let them have a taste, if you make yourself into something elusive and desirable and seemingly rare; well then you're bound to have them swimming round again and again. Men like Kemp want the chase. They want the surface-level mirage of a relationship that makes the sex so much more thrilling.
So you'd shot him one last, lip-lined smirk from across the lounge, and then you'd sauntered out of that hotel bar like you owned it, able to feel the heat of his gaze on your back all the way out to the lobby doors and beyond.
He'd emailed to book his luncheon less than thirty-six hours later, and the rest was history.
Other First Encounters coming up in this order:
Sugar*Baby & The Five Daddies Imagines Masterlist
Masterlist
Tips go in the Kofi cup! 🥰 (Much Love!)
This has been a fill for @sebastianstanbingo
Card: @sarahowritesostucky
Square G1: Escort/Client
#steve kemp#sebastian stan#sebastian stan characters#fresh 2022#fresh hulu#fresh movie#steve kemp x ofc#steve kemp x y/n#steve kemp x you#steve kemp x reader#sugardaddy#sugar baby au#sugarbaby#sex worker reader#getting together#first meeting#ari levinson#bucky barnes#andy barber#lloyd hansen#reader insert#fanfiction#fanfic
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♀️, straight, "she/her," American
Erotic Romance e-book author (coming 2024)
pro-ship🍖🌈(aka vehemently anti-censorship)
👩🏻🦽disabled creator
mental health advocate ❤️🩹🧠
🍸🚫sober alcoholic
🎂 cake artist
tattoo fiend 💪🏼🎨
🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️ ✡️ally
🐒Italian greyhound mommy 🤪
❣️causes: food pantry, addiction recovery, crisis hotlines
🧌Tumblr Staff Troll forecast: ☀️
I write Stucky, EvanStan, Chris Evans characters, SebStan characters, and reader insert fanfiction.
I reblog tons of fanart and other Marvel and MCU fan content.
I also write erotic fiction e-books under the penname L.T. Swann (available for purchase starting Oct. 2024!)
Currently Participating in the following B-I-N-G-O's
@anyfandomdarkbingo
@anyfandomgoesbingo (AFG kink)
@allcapsbingo
@steverogersbingo
@sebastianstanbingo
@ultimatechrisbingo
@marvel-smash-bingo
@badthingshappenbingo
@mcukinkbingo
Currently Writing For:
|| m/m || m/f || original characters || reader insert ||
Chris Evans
Sebastian Stan
Steve Rogers
Bucky Barnes
Ari Levinson
Andy Barber
Lloyd Hansen
Steve Kemp
Curtis Everett
Ransom Drysdale
Lee Bodecker
original characters: Bohdana "Bo" Harding, Lucas Dearbourne, Verne Dearbourne (neé Thibodeaux)
Tips in the Kofi🍵 cup are always appreciated
Commissions: contact via Tumblr messenger or Kofi
#trolls#mental health#positivity#marvel#mcu#chris evans#sebastian stan#writers on tumblr#tumblr culture#sarahyellow#sarah-writes-stucky#bucky barnes#captain america#steve rogers#fanfiction#ao3#ari levinson#ari levison x reader#ari levinson x female reader#ari levinson x you#steve kemp x ofc#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen#reader insert#lgbtqia#fanart#andy barber x reader#andy barber#fanfic#reading fanfiction
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Chapter 22
Content Warning, this is intended for people that are 18+ and this chapter includes ddlg themes (always forced age regression) abdl themes, m/m smut, kidnapping, swearing, cannibalism, lil bit of fluff.
Sebastian’s POV
That lying son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him. He has lied to me about her again, but this will be the last, I’ll make sure of it.
After the day Jessica had I decided that she needed a treat. She had begged us to bring her back down to the beach. Today was the day. She laid next to me in our bed, little snores escaped her mouth. She looked so cute. That was until she let out the biggest and wettest fart. Definitely sounded like more had come out than just gas. I would soon find out when I changed her. I peppered her forehead with little kisses. She scrunched up her face and her tiny hand pawed at mine trying to push it away “nooo daddy. Sweepy time.” She whined. “Ok baby, sleepy time.” I relaxed down beside her again and snuggled my face into her hair. “We can just sleep here and save the beach for another day.” Her eyes popped open, she let out a gasp and proceeded to kneel on the bed and shove me to get up.
While she ate breakfast, I sent Chris a text informing him of our girls beach date. He immediately responded and said he would be over at our place in 20 minutes. Jessica was beyond excited about the beach, I had to keep an eye on her while she ate or more like inhaled her food. I couldn’t figure out why she wanted to go to the beach so badly, but I guessed it had something to do with not being cooped up at home. 20 minutes later Chris arrived, beach toys and a towel in hand. He had his tight swim trunks on, his abs were even more defined than the last time I saw him. He was fucking gorgeous. My cock started to stir in my jean shorts, and I struggled to keep it from becoming fully erect. Today was about our little girl. Sadly, I lost the fight when Chris immediately gave me a deep and passionate kiss. He too was feeling the aftereffects of our girl knowing and accepting our secret.
——
We headed down the winding stairs to the beach. The remnants of her sandcastle was still there. It looked like it was poorly fixed, I suspect that was Chris’s handy work. We spent hours at the beach, she broke down the old sandcastle and started a new one. And after a couple of hours and with lots of help from me and dada, it was starting to take shape. We had lunch and afterwards continued with our creation. Chris had shown Jessica the pretty fish in the water and immediately jumped in to get them. I swear this little girl was going to give me a heart attack one day.
I stood up from the lounge chair and shouted for Chris “I’m going up to the bathroom, do you two want ice creams?” Of course, Jessica got all excited. I mean, who wouldn’t it’s ice cream. One of my many guilty pleasures. I went back up the stairs and instead of going to my house, I turned towards Chris’s. The house was silent, not a soul to be heard. Maybe Jessica was wrong, maybe she just heard the name Bunny. A familiar sound stopped me in my tracks. A clank from a restraint. I went over to her nursery and quietly opened the door. And sure enough, the not so dead girl lay in her crib. Our eyes met and she began to thrash around at the sight of me, her restraints meant that was all she could do.
——
I returned back to my family, for that is what they are now, holding 3 chocolate ice cream bars. We ate them and talked about some exciting new things that we were planning, like nothing had just happened. The little one started to snuggle up closer to Chris and it was the sign to go home. Chris helped me carry her back home and into her crib. Once snoring away, we sat on the couch and talked about last night’s events. Chris was as shocked at what happened as I was, but he knew she was committed to whatever she was doing.
“I was so scared when we told her, I was sure she was going to reject us, and now that she knows everything, It’s such a huge relief. And I’m so happy and…” Chris ended his sentence with a laugh and a bemused shrug as if he didn’t know how to express what he felt. I could see the sparkle in his eyes and knew exactly what he was feeling, I’m sure he could see the same in mine. On impulse I reached out and slid my hands through his short brown hair.
“Fulfilled.” I said the word looking deep into his eyes and I could see it resonate there. “The missing piece we have always been searching for is here. Me, you, and our little girl our family is complete.” I said the final word into his mouth. My lips were pressing against his, I didn’t even know if it was me that moved in or if it was him that came to me.
His hands were on my chest and one of mine was on his back the other was intwined in his hair. Always eager his hands roved downwards across my rock hard abs and onto my even harder cock. He yanked on my jean shorts so excited to get at the prize inside he couldn’t take the time to undo a button. I laughed at his excited face turning to dismay when my shorts didn’t drop straight to the floor so he could get to his toy. Taking pity on him I released the handhold I’d found on his ass and popped the button free for him.
He yanked again and my dick popped free. His eyes and mouth opened wide in excitement and that was all the invite I needed. I pulled him toward me by the hair and my member passed between his lips and thrust deep into his throat. In our haste I felt the slight scrape of teeth on dick and a shudder passed through me at the thought of Chris’s appetite for fresh meat getting the better of him. But a moment late all I could feel was lips and tongue, my thoughts subsided into the soft warm pleasure of being in his mouth.
After I came, he left. He made up some excuse of wanting to do laundry. To get the sand out of his swim trunks. I sat there and waited for about 10 minutes before sending the text.
Chris’s POV
I headed home shortly after face fucking Sebastian. I had left her too long and without a doubt the pull up I put her in before I left would be bursting at the seams with piss and other bodily messes. I rushed back to my house, opened the front door, and was greeted with silence. Nothing. Maybe she was still asleep. Especially after what happened last night. I opened her door and was shocked to see it empty. Did she get out? Where could she be? I searched everywhere. She was nowhere to be found. I wish I had Seb’s security cameras. I joked that he was doing too much, now I regretted not having any of my own.
I was in my living room having a full on panic attack when my phone pinged. I opened the text. A picture of Bunny sitting in a cage in Sebastian’s basement popped up with the caption “Looking for something?”
Fuck!
Chapter 23
#sebastian stan x ofc#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan fanfiction#dark!daddy!sebastian stan#daddy! chris evans#dark fiction#dark!sebastian stan#dark fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#marvel#bucky x little!reader#steve rogers x little!reader#steve kemp#cannibalism#fresh movie#book blog#sebastian stan smut#chris evans smut#Chris evans#Sebastian Stan#books#forced age regression#ab/dl fiction#ab/dl babygirl#ddlgkinky#ddlgbabygirl#ddlgblog#sebastian stan x little! reader#sebastian stan fluff#mob chris evans
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Chapter 10
Content Warning, this is intended for people that are 18+ and this chapter includes graphic acts of violence, swearing, mentions of sexual assault, unplanned pregnancy, mentions abortion, stalking, torture, DDLG, pet names, smoking. Let me know if I miss anything.
Sebastian’s POV
I dropped Jessica back at her house, watching the poor thing look back at me as she closed the door I almost felt bad for her. One date and she was already head over heels, I couldn't truly feel bad for her though. She would be mine soon and that's where she belonged. Poor thing is walking right into my trap. Soon she will be mine and only mine.
The door slammed shut and the smile I had pasted on for hours sank into a scowl. Her talking to those other men was bad enough, but I could forgive her, once. My baby girl had not been informed of the rules yet. What I couldn't forgive was how they treated her. How Brad had treated her, he hurt my baby's feelings, there was no forgiveness for that, for that he had to pay.
I pulled out my phone and called “?”.
“Hey Seb, how was the date? Sorry I called, I just…”
“I don’t care about the call. Is it done?”
“Uh yeah, all taken care of” “?” said, he sounded confident, but I knew him well enough to see through it, to hear the slight hitch of hesitation as he swallowed around "yeah". I knew it would be hard on him, but at least it was taken care of and we could move on to more pressing concerns.
“Good. Make sure you do it right. I want the freezer full, ready for when we get there. But first I need your help. Some asshole hurt my baby’s feelings. I need to know everything about him, where he lives, works, shits, and fucks. Everything.”
“Sure thing. Nobody hurts our…”
“Our?! I think you’re forgetting who’s plan this was Chris. You got to pick the last pet and look what happened. Jessica is mine. If you do a good job with this, and things go well with her I might share later, for now she's all mine”.
“Ok, sorry. So, what’s this guy’s name?”
“Brad”. The name comes out in a snarl and I have to pause to gather control of myself, and wipe the image of his smug sneering face from my mind. "He went to school with her and probably follows her on Instagram”.
"Leave it with me and I'll get you everything there is to find."
“You better, and no more screw ups or you'll be the one in the freezer." I cut the call there not interested in anything more he had to say.
————
As promised, I took Jessica out on a little date to the park. We picked up some food and had a late lunch picnic by the cherry blossom tree. She waffled on about some brand deal with a clothing company. I tried to focus on her but my heart wasn't in it. There was only one thing I wanted to do and when I got a text from Chris I smiled a true smile for the first time since I had seen Brad hurt my baby.
Check your email
"Sorry baby I have an important work meeting that's just been rescheduled. I promise I'll make it up to you."
"What, but our date." Her cute little lips curled into a pout and her tiny hands balled into miniature fists. It was so cute that I was tempted to stay, maybe let her argue a bit and see if she would stamp her dainty little feet. But no I couldn't, protecting her was my responsibility, until Brad was dealt with it would always be there distracting me.
Before she could get any more worked up I pulled her in close, she squeaked as she rose through the air, but I silenced her with a kiss. I held her there, our lips locked tongues coiling together, until I felt her melt into me. When I set her down she looked almost hypnotised, I ruffled her hair and planted another kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you soon darling, and we'll go wherever you want my treat."
————
In the comfort of my new home I opened my email to find that Brad was a very bad boy, not that I was shocked. I could have guessed that just from looking at him, even before I had seen the way he treated my girl.
• Brad Hastings, 20, son of Emily Hastings and Josh Hastings. Mom is a local news reporter. Dad is unemployed. Stepdad Will is a police officer. Still lives with parents at 52 Maple Grove.
• Brad works at the Walmart in Auburn Creek. 10 minute drive from New Market. Schedule is fixed at 9pm to 4am Monday to Saturday.
• He was diagnosed with anger issues after an altercation with his Father.
• Brad also sexually assaulted a girl at a party. She got pregnant. His mom and stepdad kept it quiet and paid the girl to get an abortion. She never did, she kept the money and moved out of state.
————
By ten to four that night I was waiting outside Walmart. I could've taken my time and planned it out, but the bubbling rage inside was too much I had to punish him, had to hurt him as soon as I physically could. The one concession to practicality I made was to drive by beforehand and scope out the lot for cameras. When I walked back, after finding a convenient spot to stash my car, I made sure to stand in a spot that I knew the cameras didn't cover.
Twenty minutes later I spotted an orange ember hovering in the air, a moment later the dim shadow behind the cigarette tip grew close enough to a streetlight that I could see his face. Brad. And on his own, just what I wanted.
I pulled the balaclava over my face, maybe not necessary in the dark, but experience had taught me that it was better to be safe than sorry. I started moving walking directly toward him, he might have noticed if he had been aware of his surroundings, but on a dark night like this and with a dim mind like his that was never going to happen.
He fumbled with his keys by the car, I could see his face in the reflected light on his window, and just when it was too late he could see mine. My gloved hand snapped around his face tight as a vice. I ripped his coat and shirt up at the back exposing some bare skin and pressed the taser to him.
He jerked and squirmed In my grip, more a reaction to the taser than in attempt to escape. I held it there until I knew any fight in him had been broken. I let the taser die and his body grew slack and still. My hand on his mouth and body against his back were the only reason he still stood. I let go and he slid toward the ground, slid past the taser. I couldn't resist, just one more taste. The taser crackled and Brad spasmed one hand shot out and slammed into his car door with a painful smack then he hit the ground with an even more painful thud.
“Where should we start?" I asked aloud, I heard a faint grunt from Brad, but couldn't be sure it was a response he might have just been trying to breathe. "How about we start at the bottom and work our way up? Sound good to you Brad?" He screamed in reply, too loud for me to hear his ankle crack under my foot. Maybe I should've started at the top so I could do my work in peace.
By the time I got to the top I was sweating even in the cool night air. My boots and gloved hands were encrusted with blood. I chided myself for leaving wipes in the car and made a mental note to clean the car inside and out when I got back. The quivering wet lump at my feet gurgled, looking down at it I wondered if I should just put it out of its misery.
"No." I gave it another hard prod with my foot. "It deserves the misery." If I had the time I would take it back with me and show it what true misery was. But time was one thing I didn't have, I had to get my baby to the cabin soon, and this thing in the backseat would ruin the trip.
I grabbed its wallet and phone, in this state it would be hard to believe the motive was robbery, but I had learned never to overestimate cops. Still the more red herrings the better. "Think about this the next time you stick your pencil dick where it isn't wanted." I hissed into what might have been an ear once.
Ten miles going the wrong way out of Auburn Creek I pulled over If they could track the phone it wouldn't lead them anywhere near me or my baby. I checked its phone, there wasn't even a pin, just a tap and it was open to me easier than spreading a whore's legs.
I remembered it and its friends laughing at something on this phone in the diner and I wanted to know what.
I checked his social media, nothing. I checked his photo app and bingo, I found the source. The motherfucker took a video of me and my baby on our 1st date. Making comments on how she looked. I deleted everything off the phone.
Smashed it to smithereens and tossed it out the window along with a cashless wallet. Only a measly $35 bucks, but I’ll buy my baby something with it, as payback.
Chapter 11
#sebastian stan x ofc#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan fanfiction#daddy! sebastian stan#daddy! chris evans#dark fanfiction#ddlgblog#marvel#bucky x little!reader#steve rogers x little!reader#sebastian stan fluff#sebastian stan smut#Sebastian Stan#chris evans fluff#chris evans#dark!sebastian stan#steve kemp#fan fic author#book blog#fanfic#chris evans smut#stalker!sebastian stan#smut fanfiction#pov story
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Chapter 23
Content Warning, this is intended for people that are 18+ and this chapter includes ddlg themes (always forced age regression) abdl themes, graphic violence, kidnapping, swearing, cannibalism, mentions alcohol. If I left anything out, let me know.
Chris’s POV
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What am I going to do? Maybe it won’t be too bad? Maybe he’ll forgive me. Although I lied to him about her once before. Fuck! I thought as I paced around my living room. Beads of sweat were dripping down my face. Real panic started to kick in, I felt my breath catch in my throat and my heart begin to race. What was he going to do with her, and me? We’d only just started the perfect family and then this. I knew I should have hidden her when Jessica was here. I can’t be mad at her though, I never told her to not mention anything to Seb. She didn’t know.
I stopped pacing by the front door, sucked in a deep breath for confidence and headed over to their house. I didn’t bother knocking, he was waiting for me. Sure, enough he was on the couch, exactly where I left him. “Oh! Forget something babe?” He mocked. I closed the door and immediately the confidence left my body. I started to ramble “It’s not what it looks like, I loved her but now I only love Jessica. And you, I love both of you. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” He said nothing just let me ramble on.
“I promise I’ll do anything, please don’t kill me. I don’t care if you kill her. She means nothing to me.” He gave me a serious look “Ok.” He said. “Ok?” I repeated. “Yes Chris, ok. I won’t kill you. Fortunately for you, I also love our family. Things are finally as they should be. I won’t let her ruin this. I will spare your life. What you’re going to do is take our little one to your place and you will stay there with her until I’m done.” He said with a stern expression. “What are you going to do?” I asked. “That’s none of your concern now.”
I didn’t want to question him again. I’m grateful that I’m still alive. If it wasn’t for Jessica, I would be dead. Without wasting anytime, I went to her nursery and gently picked her up. Seb was still in the living room, he kissed her on the forehead before I left. I laid her down on our bed but didn’t join her. There was no way I could go to sleep. Back in the kitchen, I poured myself a generous glass of whiskey, plopped down on the couch and waited.
——
Sebastian’s POV
I headed down the basement stairs with the plan to kill our former little girl, once and for all. I flipped on the switch to the single warm light that revealed the small girl in her cage. It was like history was repeating itself. I pulled over the chair from the desk and sat down in front of her. She sat there, naked and curled up on herself. Sobs escaped her mouth. She finally looked up at me “Dada, please….” I stood up quickly and bashed my hand against the top of the cage, causing the girl to flinch back in fear. “Don’t you fucking call me that.”
I turned around and grabbed a knife from the table “Here’s what’s going to happen Rebecca, you’re going to die a slow and painful death. And then we’re going to eat you.” Her eyes went wide. “Yes, you heard me. All those playthings we brought home, all got fucked and eaten. You even ate them too.” Her face went deathly pale, and she puked emptying her stomach and dry heaving when there was nothing left. The sight disgusted me. Just another reason why I love Jessica, she accepted our secret. She loved it too. Bored, I started to open her cage, I grabbed her and dragged her to the cuffs on the wall. She begged and struggled, but that made it more fun. I always loved it when they tried to plead their way out of what was coming.
But it was time for her to learn that there was nothing she could say to stop me, I took the knife and ripped it across her inner thigh causing a nice deep slice in my once favourite place. Her leg kicked and jerked, but it couldn’t escape my knife. She let out a shriek of pain, a sound I was well used to though for some reason it didn’t spark that same joy that it normally did. Snot ran down her nose and onto her mouth, and tears streaked down her cheeks. Looking at her face I was filled with pity, but I clenched down on the feeling with an iron grip and steeled myself to take another swing, when she confessed. “I still love you.” I chuckled “love me? How pathetic. If you love me then why did you do it, why did you run away?” I questioned. “I… I.” “Can’t even come up with a good answer?” “I was hurt, I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you and Daddy. You hurt me, I thought you didn’t love me anymore. You loved your plaything more than me. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you broke my heart. Marc promised me a movie night, that’s why I left. I always loved you and always will.”
I lowered the knife and took in what she said. She continued “Daddy knows everything, that’s why he kept me. He knows I love him too and he… loved me back.” So, this was why he kept her. I knew that night I went a little overboard with my dirty talk, but I didn’t know how much it affected her. Thinking about that night and finding out that she left shattered my heart. A single tear fell down my face. I turned around quickly so that she didn’t see it and wiped it away. Memories flooded back to all the fun times I had with Bunny. A smile grew on my face. Did I still have feelings for her? She was my pick after all. I only let Chris think that he picked her. But she was mine, she was my Bunny. But I have Jessica now, it couldn’t work, could it?
I pulled out my phone and texted him.
We need to talk!
——
Chris’s POV
I was just about to finish the bottle of whiskey when I got the text. He didn’t take too long. Knowing Sebastian and how he felt towards Bunny especially after she left us, I thought he would hive her a slow painful death. I had been crying, although I have Jessica now. Bunny was mine. I picked her, I loved her and now she’s dead. Dripping blood on the concrete floor in his basement. Her death was meaningful. She wasn’t like the other ones. We bonded and even though I told her I didn’t love her, it was a lie. I love both of them.
Seb came bursting through my door, tears streaming down his face. I gave him a confused look. Standing before me was the big bad cop, known for being hard (not in that way) and basically never showed any emotions. And now he’s crying about her. I embraced him and let him cry onto my shoulder “It’s okay, it’s over now.” I consoled him. Very quietly he said “I couldn’t do it. I hurt her, broke her heart. I caused this.” I pulled him back “she’s not dead?” “No, why didn’t you tell me? All of this trouble could have been avoided.” “To be honest, I was scared what you would to do me.” Seb chuckled “I love you too much to hurt you, you big ole goof ball.”
We sat on the couch and talked things over. “We could make this work, maybe. How did Jessica get on with Bunny?” Seb asked. “Well… Bunny was being cold to her, obviously not liking the fact that we replaced her with a new little girl. But I think she can be put into place, with some reinforcement and punishments if needed.” Seb took my hands in his, looked me straight in the eyes and said “I want you and Bunny to move in.”
Chapter 24 - Christmas Special
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Chapter 8
Content Warning, this is intended for people that are 18+ and this chapter includes amputation, ddlg vibes and pure fluff.
Authors Note: Hi everyone, thank you for all the love and support, I really do appreciate it. If you have any feedback or suggestions, please leave me a comment.
Jessica’s POV
Today was the worst day! After having my lovely shower, I struggled to get my leg back on. I then couldn’t get any skinny jeans on. So, I had to settle for overalls and a cute graphic tee. My hair dryer decided to blow a fuse and just stop working altogether. Resulting in me plaiting my hair in pigtail braids. It was not the vibe.
I clambered up onto one of my stool chairs and stretched up as high as I could to reach the my cupboards. After all that effort I yanked them open to find completely bare shelves. I really didn’t want to leave the house today, but things needed to get done. I did a load of laundry (including bun-bun , I must've spilled something on her while I was drunk on the night of the accident cause she stank and there were a couple of crusty marks on her) and left to do my morning errands. I still felt uneasy leaving the house and double checked that I locked my doors. “There’s nothing to worry about, you’re going to be okay” I thought and turned quickly. Inhaling all the good and positive thoughts and exhaling all of the negative ones.
With my cute canvas tote in hand and my backpack slung over my shoulder, I started to make my way into town. Grateful that I didn’t live too far away and was only about a ten minute walk, well it used to be, I guessed it would take me a bit longer now, but I needed to get used to walking again
I popped into the local pharmacy to pick up more of my prescription. I was total blown away by the price, $247 for 2 months’ worth of painkillers and muscle relaxers. Thankfully I had insurance and that covered my medication and brought the price down to $14. After picking up some unnecessary skincare and makeup, I went to supermarket and grabbed some food for a couple of days. I finished up my morning (now afternoon) by grabbing some brunch. There’s this cute little café in town that makes the best French toast. I go in and immediately feel like everyone is watching me. Eyes follow me and whispers start to form. It’s been like this all morning. Sure, I love the attention, but so much of it was starting to make me uncomfortable.
Thankfully the lady at the counter shouted “next” and I placed my order. I sat down at a window seat and scrolled through Instagram whilst I waited. A couple of minutes go by, and I’m pulled away by a plate put in front of me and a strawberry lemonade.
“Here you go sweetie,” said the waitress.
“Thanks”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but it seems you’ve had a bit of an accident?”
The room went silent, and the music was turned down slightly. Not subtle at all.
“Oh yeah, well. I was moving furniture about, and one thing led to another, and my leg got crushed. There was nothing they could do so they had to chop it off. Doctors said I have weak bones due to cancer. I’ll be starting treatment soon” The words all tumbled out in a rush and I could see her flinch back a bit as they crashed into her.
“Oh sweetie, that’s terrible and you’re so young” She said after a moments pause to take it all in. Her eyebrows dropped and her shocked face morphed into one of concern
“Yeah.” I sagged a bit suddenly tired after expressing so much to someone in person, it wasn't the same as telling everyone online. Rather than the excitement and desire to keep going I normally had I mostly just wanted the conversation to end.
“Well, I’ll let you get stuck into your food and you let me know if you need anything ok?" She squeezed my shoulder as she said this and I mumbled back a noncommittally reply while trying to subtly shrink out of her grip”.
I snapped a quick pic and ate quickly not wanting to be under everyone’s stares. Before leaving I ordered another lemonade to go. As soon as I left the café my phone started going off. I had thousands of notifications from Instagram. I tried to ignore them and started to walk home. Unfortunately, my curiosity got the better of me and I opened the app. I continued walking periodically looking up making sure I didn’t bump into anything. But a message from asos saying that they wanted to work with me, it made me lose complete focus and then THUD!
I bumped into a huge figure, my lemonade went everywhere. My clothes and tote bag were completely drenched. Thankfully my phone was spared from the sticky liquid.
“What the fuck?!” I said, pissed as hell
“Oh my gosh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay?”
I looked up at the figure and completely melted. He was absolutely gorgeous. He had dark brown hair and steel blue eyes. His facial expression was soft and concerned. All my anger vanished in an instant.
“Oh…I’m okay” I say, my cheeks blushing bright red.
He crouched down to my height. Eyes wandering all over me.
“That’s good. I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going. But I’m glad you’re okay, wouldn’t want you to be upset. I’m Sebastian”. He said with a soft smile.
“I’m Jessica” I say shyly. I don’t know why I’m so shy. Maybe it his soft looks, his smile, or the fact that he seemed so genuinely concerned.
“That’s a pretty name. Are your parents picking you up? I could wait with you and explain what happened.”
“Thank you. No, they don’t live here. I was just walking home”. My stomach dropped and my face would have gone red with shame if it wasn't red already. I felt so stupid for wearing my pigtails and overalls of course he thought I was a kid.
“Wait what, you’re walking home by yourself? I know the town is small but is it safe for a little girl like you to be walking home.” He said, once again concerned written all over his face.
“Oh yeah. It is, I’ve lived here my whole life, also I know I look small. And well I am but I’m actually 19. I just have bad genetics”.
“Well, you definitely fooled me. But you’re still as cute as a button.” He said and then booped my nose. I flinched back, but couldn't suppress a giggle even though I was sure it made me look even more like a little girl.
“Hey, what would you say if I asked you out for dinner. Seeing as I ruined your clothes and your day?” He smiled at me again and I felt a pool of drool forming at the corner of my mouth. My heart pounded so hard that I was sure he would be able to hear it and my face was so hot I was worried it would burn.
“You didn’t ruin my day, you actually made it better. I would love to.”
His soft smile turned into a big contagious one. His face lit up when I said yes and he slightly blushed.
“How about the cute little 50’s diner, say about 8 o’clock?”
“Sounds like a plan. Oh! Put your number into my phone, just in case I’m a little late.”
I hand over my phone and he proceeded to put in his number and hand it back to me. I sent him a text, I know he just gave me it but I needed some confirmation otherwise I would think this was all a dream by the time I got home.
Hi, it’s Jessica ☺️
His phone pinged and he smiled when he saw the notification.
“Okay, I’ll see you at 8. Are you sure you’re ok walking home by yourself?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at 8”.
I waved goodbye and rushed home with the biggest smile on my face.
Chapter 9
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Chapter 21
Content Warning, this is intended for people that are 18+ and this chapter includes kidnapping , ddlg themes, abdl themes, graphic violence, murder, fluff, cannibalism, swearing, let me know if I need to add more.
Jessica’s POV
I woke up a couple of hours later. Eyes shut, I stretched out my body until my hand connected with Dada’s face. Panic settled in but my hand was gently grabbed and kissed “good morning to you too princess.” He chuckled and pulled me closer to him. He showered me in kisses. “How’d you sleep?” He asked. “Good Dada but you snore… a lot.” “What?! I don’t snore little one.” He started to pretend snore and tickle me at the same time. The room was filled with giggles and laughter until there was sounds of crying and screaming coming from outside. Dada sighed. “Wanna help me get Bunny up?” I nodded, unsure what to say. I didn’t like her very much but didn’t want Dada to be mad at me. He quickly changed my diaper and carried me on his hip. As we entered her nursery, his tone of voice was annoyed and monotone “Stop your nonsense, I’m here.”
He gently placed me on the rocking chair and lifted up the sobbing girl. He placed her on the changing table and started to undo her diaper. “Hey baby, can you go to the closet and grab me a pull up.” He said as he was wiping Bunny down. I got up and opened the closet doors. “They’re on the right, next to the laundry hamper.” He said. I grabbed the pink printed pull up. I handed it to Dada and returned back to the chair. “What a good baby girl.” He praised. Bunny didn’t look too happy. “Now Bunny, you need to keep this pull up dry. Daddy only has and wants one baby in his house and seeing as you think you’re a big girl, you’ll start acting like one.” Bunny didn’t say anything. He lifted her up and planted her feet on the ground. “Let’s get you two fed, can’t be having your daddy mad at me baby.” He carried me into the kitchen and placed me down in a highchair whilst Bunny sat at the table. Not saying a word but her stares said a million things. She hated me.
Dada fed us breakfast, got us changed and let us play for a bit before taking Bunny into her room for a nap. We were chilling on the couch when daddy came in through the front door. “There’s my little pumpkin, you look very happy.” He cooed. Daddy and Dada shared a looked before he sat down all serious. I panicked thinking that I was in trouble, but dada reassured me that everything was ok.
Daddy started to clear his throat to get my attention. “So, honey, you know how I told you everything about how we met? Well, me and Dada want to let you in on a little secret of ours.” My ears perked up and I sat up a little straighter. Dada continued “there’s no real easy way to say this… um.” He stopped and thought what to say next. Daddy had an aha moment. “Honey, you know how people eat bunnies.” My face dropped “Not my bunny?” Little tears started to form “No, no sweetie, not your bunny. But bunnies, the animals like cows and chickens. Well… me and dada like to eat animals and people.” People? I thought. I gave them a confused look.
They both looked at each other. “Yeah, people. It gives us um… grown up feelings. Like butterflies in our tummies when we eat them.” Explained Dada. “One thing you should know honey, the people we eat are bad, bad people. People that have hurt daddy and dada.” He continued. “Hurt?” I asked in a small broken voice. “They hurt our feelings or worse, they made us cry.” This made me mad. How could anyone make my daddies cry. “They’re real meanies.” I said. “Yes, they are.” A thought crossed my mind “Have… I?” “Eaten people, yes sweetie.” Daddy answered. He watched my face for disgust, but it never happened. “You know daddy’s amazing spaghetti bolognaise? Well, that was people meat.”
I gasped. Daddy’s spaghetti was delicious. He told me it was a secret recipe. It didn’t give me butterflies, but it did taste amazing. Whilst I was stuck in my thoughts, daddy and dada were over to me in a heartbeat. Concern washed all over their faces. When I snapped out of my head, I couldn’t understand why they were so worried. Oh, my little gasp. I giggled and leaped into daddy’s chest.
“Daddies so silly. I loved daddy’s spaghetti. It was super-duper yummy.” I said. A thought popped into my head. I leaned forward and whispered into daddy’s ear “Does dada knows of my secret?” A playful smile was plastered on his face. “He does sweetheart. Dada knows you’re secret.” “Oh! I’m sorry I lied Dada.” I said looking sad and pouty. “Hey none of that now. It’s okay pumpkin. You know our secret and we know yours. All is fair. Just no more keeping secrets or being a bad girl. We wouldn’t want your followers to find out your secret. Now, would we?” Shocked, I shook my head. “I’ll be good, I promise.” Dada smiled before kneeling down on the ground and smushed us together in a daddy sandwich.
——
We had hung out in Dada’s house until I let out a little yawn. Daddy picked me up and gently rested my head on his shoulder. He shushed me and started to sway as he made his way to the front door. He whispered something to dada, but I was far too sleepy to hear. I was out like a light, this afternoon’s discussion clearly took it out of me. I woke up in a pitch black room. The days sunlight was long gone. I lazily turned onto my side and immediately let out a long groan as my stomach began to rumble.
Daddy was in my room at lightning speed “sweetie, are you okay?” He hovered over my crib, picked me up in one big swoop and comforted me in his broad chest. I didn’t need to answer as my tummy did all the talking. “Oh, looks like someone’s hungry. Good thing I’ve just finished making dinner.” He said with a chuckle. I wondered what dinner could be. Was it an animal or human? After changing me, daddy placed me in my highchair and placed dinner on the tray. “Bon Appetite mon petite cheri.” Daddy said in a sing song voice. “Tonight’s dinner… is breaded chicken, roasted potatoes, and your favourite… honey glazed carrots. And not forgetting the most important part, chocolate, and vanilla pudding for dessert.”
A smile of relief formed on my face. The thought of eating a person wasn’t on the top of my list for this evening. Especially when I was starving. Dinner was polished off in no time at all. Daddy seemed a bit off, like he was nervous but maybe that was my imagination.
——
Sebastian’s POV
I tried to stay calm during dinner, but I think she may have picked up on my nervousness. I’m relieved that we told her about our secret. She seemed to accept it, but the true test was going to happen after dinner. She demolished her food and afterwards we played with her toys until it was time. “Sweetheart, there’s something I want to show you.” Her body perked up as if she was getting a surprise. She was but not the kind she was expecting. I continued “the reason why you spent yesterday at dada’s was because I had to run to town for a few supplies. Whilst out, I went to the local bar, and I met a girl.” I immediately regretted phrasing the last sentence like I did. Her little eyes went wide, most likely thinking I didn’t love her or other thoughts. She tended to get stuck in them.
“Shh no, no honey it’s nothing like that. I was sitting at the bar when this girl came over and tried to flirt with me. I calmly told her that I have a beautiful girlfriend and wasn’t interested. The girl wouldn’t accept no for an answer, she said some horrible things about you and tried to touch me on my boy parts.” The lie continued to spill out of my lips, and she believed every word. “She came onto me and kissed me even though daddy told her no. She wouldn’t listen. She wanted me to have grown up playtime with her. The playtime we had.” Something in her changed, her eyes no longer watered, they looked like they were full of anger.
I guided her to the basement door. “Remember when me and dada said that we only eat bad people.” She nodded. “Well, I brought her home.” I said as I unlocked the door. I took her little hand and brought her down into the cold, dark and damp basement. On the back wall furthest away from the stairs, laid a young blonde girl. I chained her up to the steel handcuffs that were bolted onto the wall. Her purple satin dress that revealed too much, was now dirty and wet from her piss. A table stood between us, on top laid various torture weapons. I gave Jessica a tight squeeze of her hand before walking over to the victim, our victim.
The girl looked up at us tiredly, immediately she used whatever energy she had left to lunge at me with a scream. I felt Jessica’s body tremble. I crouched down and faced my baby. Her eyes never left the women. I had to gently pull her chin towards me to get her attention. “It’s okay honey. She won’t be able to hurt you. Daddy will protect you, always.” The girl scoffed “You’re truly fucked in the head, you brought your daughter into your sick game. How old is she anyway? You’re a sick fuck you know that!” I ignored her comments, my attention was focused on Jessica. She didn’t say anything, she just stared at the chained up woman. I whispered “I’m going to step away sweetie. I’ll still be here but I just want you to experience this.” She gave a little nod and moved closer to the table.
Ignoring me, the women diverted her attention to Jessica. “Hi, what’s your name? Mine’s Lauren. Honey, you need to help me get out her here. Your daddy is a bad, bad man. He hurt me. He tried to do bad things to me.” She started to cry. Finally, Jessica let out a little word. “No.” “No?” The woman repeated. “Honey, I’m telling the truth. Why would I lie to you?” Jessica stopped to think “Cause you is a bad person. My daddy told me the truths. Told me what you did.” The woman’s tone changed “Your daddy lied you, how old are you? You seem a lot more mature than you look.” Jessica ignored the question. “Has he taken you? Has he done bad things to you too? Sweetie, whatever he’s told you is a lie. He doesn’t love you.”
As I stood in the distance by the stairs, the next thing I saw was a total shock. Jessica picked up a knife from the table and ran screaming towards the woman with full force. The knife collided with the woman’s chest, but it wasn’t enough to break the skin. The woman just laughed. Jessica swung back her arm, aimed a little lower. I gently held it and together the knife ripped through the dress, the women’s skin and into her guts. Shock and tears plastered the woman’s face. I let go of Jessica’s arm as her continued to plough the knife into her body. The woman went limp.
Jessica was about to give one last stab before I took the knife out of her hand. She turned around but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. I saw the same excitement in her eyes like I did when I first killed someone. Her little body shook with excitement and a newfound confidence. She looked up at me. The adrenaline left her body, and she collapsed in my arms.
She woke up 10 minutes later back up in her room. I was cradling her in my arms, praising her and kissing her softly as she woke. She looked up to me groggily and softly spoke “Daddy? I don’t like dada’s Bunny, can I kill her too?”
Chapter 22
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