#steve kemp au

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi!! I’m in love with your writing, could I request a fic for Steve Kemp that he kidnaps Y/N because he obsessed with them not knowing the’re the same like him.

hi honey! thank you!

summary - steve becomes obsessed with you, and because he's too blinded by your beauty, he doesn't know you are just like him, maybe even better.

warning - stalking, slightly dark, kidnapping, hints of cannibalism, talks of men and women.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You were so beautiful, and Steve couldn’t just not have you. You were so soft and perfect the first time he saw you, better than any of the women he met up with and killed. His mouth watered at the thought of what you’d taste like. Would you taste sweet? Or would you taste salty? These thoughts corrupted him, nearly causing him to go insane, leaving him to now. Your goddess-like self was knocked out and tied to a bed in his basement. But not just any bed, no. You deserved the best quality, the finest of things. Steve had gone out and purchased a frame, a new mattress, silk sheets and soft pillows. He felt giddy as he sat in the chair in the corner, watching you. You looked perfect, even asleep. How was that possible?

He watches you wake with wide eyes, wondering if you’ll scream and cry like the other women. Maybe he’ll get to taste your sweet tears. Would you look as beautiful crying? His head tilts as you look around, unbothered as if you are bored, as if you’ve been through this before. “You’re not afraid?” His breath caught in his throat as you looked at him with those captivating eyes. You blink once and then again before tilting your head. Your gaze then moves to the bed, hands slowly moving through the silk and feeling it, your brows furrow.

“Hmm, I personally wouldn’t have given such nice things to my victims, but I guess men are different.” Steve’s mouth falls open, and his brows furrow as you turn and look at him with an emotionless look. You raise your own brow, questioning him silently. “I’m guessing this is your first time?” He slowly shakes his head, still confused because the times he has watched and stalked you, he never once saw you being like him. “Huh. This is all new.” You look at him with a slightly dark smile. “Did you do all this for me? Wanted to impress me more than the stalking you were doing?” Steve’s eyes widen even more, and you lick your lips, eyes moving up and down his form. 

“You knew?” As those words passed his lips, your eyes rolled, scoffing.

“Of course, I knew. A woman knows, Steve.” If it were possible, Steve’s eyes would’ve widened more. “It’s not safe for a woman to not know her surroundings. Men have proven that constantly.” 

“So… You’re like me?” He scoots closer, dripping with interest.

You hum, playing with the fabric between your fingers. “Sort of.”

He tilts his head, “What do you mean sort of?” 

You squint your eyes, nibbling on your bottom lip as you think. “I don’t go after women as you do. I like preying on the predator. It’s always fun and exhilarating when the men realise a woman has beaten them.” You play with the chain connected to your wrist. “See, that’s where you and I are different. You pray on women because they have been proven weaker against the male species, and I pray on the men because they are the stupider of the species.” Steve blinks in wonder, “It’s so easy getting a man to follow you home and do whatever you want with the promise of sex. No dates need to be planned because they’ve never needed to worry.” You smirk, giggling at the gobsmacked look on your captor's face.

“But, I caught you? You are locked in my basement because I beat you.” His head tilts again, confused.

“That’s what you think, my love. But, really. This was my plan all along.” The sound of the chains being undone cause Steve’s eyes to widen even more, watching as you stand from the bed, and fix your dress. “You’re lucky you didn’t ruin this. I just bought it.” You pout, looking at the man through your lashes. “Shall we play a game?”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 50

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: getting close.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hate the smell of hospitals. It clings in your nose even after you leave. You can taste it. It dries out the mouth. It stains like the blinding lights against the sterile walls. Your vision is washed out in the hangover of your outing. 

The doctor took your blood. He asked questions too but you didn’t answer them. Ann did. Even if you had tried, you wouldn’t have gotten a word in. 

You left with another appointment scheduled and an endless list of rules. No caffeine, no lunch meat, no hot baths, only sleep on your side... Your body is a prison. It always has been but now, it’s like solitary confinement. Dark and isolating. You can’t see the way out. 

You sit in the back of the car, staring at the seat in front of you. Like a child. She didn’t stop you from sitting back there but you can’t sit beside her. Maybe she prefers it too. Her touch has always said more than her words. She despises you. 

The colours of the city blur. Pallid and dull with the late dregs of winter. You hug yourself and a new tide of nausea overwhelms you as you touch your stomach. You try not to. It’s a reminder. You’re not showing yet, not there, but in other ways. You can feel it even if you can’t see it. 

Ann sighs as she rolls slowly down the suburban street. You recognise the brick house. You rarely see the outside of it. She hits the button below the rear view mirror and the garage door opens. You know what they do. They don’t let you out of the car outside, only in the garage. They’re hiding you. 

As she pulls in, you slump against the door. She unlocks the doors and clicks the button on her belt. You unhook your own seat belt and follow her at a delay. It’s easier to just do everything she wants. 

She hums as she stands, “oof, I’m sore,” she complains, “will you get the door.” 

You nod and go to the button mounted on the wall. Before you can hit it, a grizzly voice wafts through the frigid air, blowing in with the wind under the open garage door. Your hand lingers before the close button but doesn’t hit it. 

A man ducks to see through, “hi, excuse me,” he says as he raises a hand above him to grip the metal, “I’m looking to deliver a package...” 

“Oh, a package?” Ann echoes, “I’m not expecting anything.” 

“Uh, yeah, it’s for... Dr. Steve Kemp?” He shifts the flat box under his arm to read it. “It’s pretty cold out here. Think you can take it off my hands?” 

���Why, of course,” she strides along the length of the car, “I’m his wife.” 

The man nods as she approaches and his grey blue eyes wander over to you. His dark stubble refines the angle of his jaw as a tuque covers his hair. You squint. He’s familiar but you don’t know how. He stares for a moment then hands over the package, “just sign here.” 

He takes out his phone and presents it to her. She drags her finger over the screen then pulls back to examine the box, “thank you, sir. Bit late for a delivery.” 

“Got backed up with the ice up on the freeway. Everyone’s taking the back roads today.” 

“Ah, makes sense,” she says, “well, you have a good day.” 

“You as well, ma’am.” 

He backs up and marches off without another look or word in your direction. She looks down at the box and rolls her eyes. She backs up.  

“Close the door. It’s freezing.” 

You tap the button and the door descends with the thrum of the motor above. You wait for her to go inside first before you follow. You hear the kids and Steve’s low timbre. You wonder why the courier didn’t knock on the front door. Maybe he did but couldn’t be heard. The TV is blaring as the kids giggle and holler. 

“Steve,” Ann calls out as you leave your shoes on the mat, “you got a delivery.” 

He doesn’t answer. She keeps on down the hall and drops the package on the side table against the wall. She stops to peer into the front room. 

“Honey,” she says curtly, “package.” 

“Alright,” he says, slightly agitated as he helps Harper build blocks into a castle. “Thanks. Any idea what it is?” 

“I don’t know. Looked like more of those magazines. Aren’t those supposed to go to your office?” 

“Could be an old subscription,” he shrugs. You stand back in the shadows but he finds you, “how’d it go?” 

“Fine. She’s on track. She’ll have a scan next week,” she sniffs. “You made a mess in here.” 

“The kids are bored. It’s too cold to go outside,” he grumbles. 

“As long as I’m not the one cleaning it up,” she tuts. 

“Love you too, honey,” Steve says dryly.  

“Got enough to worry about with the baby...” she mutters, “I’m thinking of sending out a card as an announcement.” 

“Ann, really? No one cares about a third kid,” he chuckles. 

“I care,” she snips. “Aren’t you excited?” 

“Of course I am. I just don’t see why it needs to be a whole broadcast.” 

You shrink away from their argument as the children give pause at their parents’ tones. They might be young but there’s an obvious tension there. You don’t dare interrupt. 

“It’s a big deal,” she growls. “It’s almost dinner time. Did you take out the chicken like I asked?” 

“I promised the kids pizza. Figured we’d order.” 

“Pizza? It’s so expensive these day--” 

A knock cuts her off and she winces. She huffs and shakes her head. “Busy day.” 

“Could be Jeff. He borrowed my drill.” 

“Tell him to keep it,” she ignores the door and struts back down the hall. “You never use it anyway.” 

You flatten yourself against the wall to let her pass. You stare up the stairs, wondering if you should just go and hide. When they need you, they’ll find you. 

“Get the door, will ya, sweetie?” Steve says. 

You hesitate. That’s all you are these days. A thing to be used. You’re not a person to them. Just a means to an end. You nod. 

You go down the hall to the door. You’re nervous. You don’t like strangers. You’ve had enough of them for the day. All those nurses poking and prodding and preening over that thing inside of you. 

Just get it over with. You make yourself open the door. 

Before you can say a word, you’re name whispers with the wind. You’re seized and pulled into a hug. You barely catch a glimpse before the woman has you in her arms. You can smell her. She always smells of cinnamon. 

“You’re alive,” she says. “Oh my god, you’re alive.” 

“Huh?” You wriggle in confusion, “Amber?” 

“I’ve been...” she loosens her hold but keeps her hands on your arms. “I’ve been looking for you. All these months. I’ve been...” her eyes gleam with tears. “I’ve been so afraid.” 

You’re frozen by more than the chill creeping in around her. Something cracks. Like a toothpick between your fingers, you feel it. All those weeks of hiding behind a wall, of telling yourself not to feel, to just get through it. It’s more than her being there, it’s the care and gentleness in her touch. That’s different. 

She lets you go and holds you at arm’s length, “hey, bub, what’s... you okay? Come on, let’s go home.” 

You blink at her. You look around at your eyes burn with a glimmer of tears, “what?” 

“Home, bubba. Please.” 

“Why?” You breathe. 

“Why? Because...” her voice trails off as you sense a shadow behind you. 

You turn as Steve stands in the doorway, his hands on his childrens’ shoulders. His eyes narrow and his jaw squares, “kids, go find your mother.” 

“Daddy?” Avery says. 

He hushes her and nudges them both down the hall. They run up the stairs and he turns to face you. And Amber. You don’t like the way he looks at her. 

“Ah, took you long enough,” he steps up next to her. “Right, dove? She really took her time. Almost like she doesn’t care at all.” 

You look between them, a sinking sensation rising in your chest. “What?” 

You can’t understand any of it. That wall is slowly crumbling. The only protection you have from any of this. The only thing keeping you from destroying yourself. 

“As if you do, doctor!” Amber snaps.  

He snorts, “as far as I have it, I’m the only one who ever tried to help you find her. Thanksgiving wasn’t that long ago, was it? You can’t blame me for your lack of follow up--” 

“Bullshit,” Amber snarls, her tone and words frightening you. “I’ve been searching for months. I’ve been tearing my hair out and you’ve had her all this time. Do you understand what that man’s been doing? He just sits outside my house and--” She throws her hands up, “you’re just like him.” 

“I’m helping this poor woman escape years of abuse and neglect. Neglect of her mental wellbeing, narcissistic abuse, using her to prop yourself up--” 

“I never—she's my sister. I take care of her.” 

“You do, Amber? So where have you been?” Steve chuckles. 

She lunges forward but doesn’t reach Steve as he steps back and she’s caught from behind. Another man stands behind her, his arm hooked around her middle as he restrains her. It’s him, the delivery man. You recognise him now. He was on her Insta. 

“Amb, please, calm down,” he holds onto her, “shhh, come on. Everyone, let’s be calm.” 

His voice alone puts his words into effect. You feel calm. He slowly releases Amber and squeezes her sleeve. He looks between you and Steve.  

Steve grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, “I should call the police. You’re disturbing my family--” 

“She’s my family,” Amber growls. “Bub, please, come home.” 

“This doesn’t have to be hostile,” the other man says. “We came here to bring her sister home. That’s all.” 

“She is home--” 

“Ask her,” Amber cries out. “Look at her. I know she wants to come home. Right, bubba? Ask her. Ask. Her.” Amber’s close to tears as she begs, “please. Listen to her. Why does no one listen to her?” 

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. She’s right. No one listens, not if you don’t say what they want. No one but her. Your sister. The only person you ever had. The one who kept you behind her when your mother was having one of her fits, the one who told you to lock the door when the screaming got loud, the one who held you even when it hurt too much to be touched. 

The one who loves you.  

“Home. I want to go home,” you say and try to push past Steve. He turns and holds you, an arm across your chest. “No, home. With her. Amber--” 

You reach for her but he keeps you from getting to her. Amber extends her arm as you wriggle against the restraint. You stomp your feet and thrash. 

“This isn’t my home!” You holler. “This isn’t--” You’re breathless and dizzy. “Amber, help! Amber!” 

“Let her go, man,” the other man says. He’s taller than Steve. He steps up, filling the doorway. 

“Curtis,” Amber whines. 

“She’s not fit. She’s manic. Having an episode. You don’t understand. She’s in treatment. I’m a doctor--” 

“She says she wants to go.” That man, Curtis, grits through his teeth. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Ann snarls sourly as she comes down the stairs, “there are children in this house.” 

“Shouldn’t be,” Curtis sneers. “The meaning is simple. We came for her, we’re not leaving without her.” 

“And who the fuck are you, pal?” Steve puts himself between you and the door. Ann latches onto your wrist and tugs you back. 

“Let her go!” Amber cries out. 

You twist your wrist free as the room tilts and spins around you. Your head bobbles as you look around at the hazy figures. You back up and turn, racing away from the chaos. You hear your sister wail and that man she’s with snarls. There’s footsteps and a clamour. A mess all around. 

You hurl yourself upwards and stumble over the top step. You’re not thinking, just doing. You burst into the guest room and tear open the drawer in the nightstand. You grab your sweater and your journal and a few random pieces of clothing. You bundle it all up and charge back out. 

“Fuck off of her!” Curtis barks. 

“She’s trespassing,” Steve snarls. 

“Oh, stop it! Stop it!” Ann shrieks, “would you stress a pregnant woman like this? Oh my, oh my!” 

You barrel back down the stairs and stop at the bottom. You look at Ann as she touches her stomach. You curl your lip and the realisation startles on you. Locking you up in the room, not letting you out front, keeping you inside all day long... 

“What is all that?” She turns on you. “You’re not going anywhere.” 

“Come on, bub,” Amber shouts as Ann grabs your ear. “Let her go, you bitch!” 

Steve slips in his socks as he tries to hold her back. He flies back as Curtis throws him into the wall and stomps forward. Ann cries out and cowers away as the sting of her pinch throbs in the shell of your ear. 

“Shoes,” Curtis snarls, “go get em.” 

You look down as he glances at your feet. He turns back and grabs Steve by the back of his sweater and drags him away from Amber. He spins him by the shoulder and pins him to the wall. He snaps his fingers. 

“Amb, help her find her shoes.” 

Amber squeezes by and Ann moves toward you. Your sister puts her arm across you and steps up to the other woman. 

“Touch her again and I’ll rip your pretty hair out,” Amber lurches as if she might actually do it. Ann shies away with a screech. 

“Please, please, don’t hurt me,” she keeps her hand on her stomach, “you wouldn’t hurt a pregnant woman.” 

You shrink away and scuttle down the hall to the mat by the garage. You bend down the back of your sneakers as you step into them. You come back as Ann sobs. 

“Oh, please, we were only helping her,” she rocks against the wall. “Please, don’t hurt my husband. Steve, baby, are you okay?” 

“Fucking take her,” Steve shoves Curtis off of him as he kicks his foot into the wall. “She’s broken anyway. Can’t fix that.” 

Curtis staggers a single step and tilts his head dangerously. His hand balls to a fist. “That’s fucked up, doctor.” 

“Curt,” Amber puts her arm around your shoulders and ushers you forward, “let’s just go.” 

“Yeah, fucking run like you do from everything, Dove. Isn’t that how it goes?” Steve snarls. 

You stop beside him and waver. Amber stops too. You look at her and nod. You pull away and she lets you go. You face Steve with watery eyes. 

“You’re evil. I hate you.” You say. “You don’t deserve those children. Or mine.” 

His eyes flare and he stands straight. Curtis looms and you turn away. You walk forward and Amber follows. You don’t look back. You can’t. You’re going home. 

[lilacevans]

meet some of the pete's place regulars!

˚ ♡ ✧.* : ̗̀➛ requests by: two anons, @welight-theway, @crokitheloki, @hansensgirl, @buggy14, @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

this is a dark au/verse. minors need not interact. happy endings don't happen here.

𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫

41 years old.

6’2’’.

Suburban dad with a dark side. 

Likes flashing the cash for a look as he doesn’t get much attention back home.

Never misses stopping by when he’s in town.

Has a type and it just so happens to be you.

Brings you gifts; new outfits, new shoes, gold chains, etc, every single time he visits the club.

Will spend the whole night promising you the world– and his wallet, if you just go home with him.

Top Three: Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Praise Kink. 

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐕𝐞𝐭

45 years old.

6’4’’.

Oh, what a nice man–

Warning sirens sound in the distance.

Danger! Danger! 

The man will make you beg, make you cry, rearrange your insides, make you fall in love and break you down all within a night.

The man is all kinds of fucked up. But knows how to hide it well.

Under Lloyds employement so like, you can guess the kinds of fucked up. 

Did awful things while serving in the army, brought some of that back home with him.

Protect you? More like slaughter anyone who gives you a momentary glance. 

Top Three: Rough (Violent) Sex, Service Kink, Corruption Kink.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐲

28 years old.

6’1’’.

Cocky motherfucker, hot and he knows it.

The embodiment of a hyper puppy. 

Acts like he’s always got the zoomies whenever he’s in the club.

Annoys the absolute shit out of all the girls but he’s hot, so they deal with it.

Secretly a sweetheart but never shuts his mouth.

Gets a little too handsy when he’s had a drink– or five. 

Always asking Pete to loan him one of his girls for the night.

Don’t get him twisted, the guy FUCKS. and he's NASTY about it

Top Three: Dirty Talk, Deepthroating, Body Worship (receiving). 

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟

43 years old.

6’0’’.

Corrupt little wank, like’s to make Pete nervous when he comes around, but he’d never spill on the shady things as he likes the club’s views. 

Talks big shit but you’ll find him in the VIP rooms on a Saturday night. 

A little wrong in the head, but treat him right and he’ll make you scream. 

Can get a little rough with the girls when he's had a few.

Tight with money so always tries it on for a discount for not opening his mouth.

Has a big cock and is smug about it.

Likes 'em on their knees with an wide open mouth.

Top Three: Daddy Kink, Corruption Kink, Choking. 

𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐬 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐲𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫

32 years old

6’0’’.

Troubled addict that’s in the club; Every. Single. Night.

Likes just to watch, girls kinda hate him in the club because he won’t even throw a dollar bill but will spend a paycheck on drinks and other things.

Spends money he doesn’t have, does the odd job for Pete when he’s in a little legal trouble which gets him the odd night in the VIP rooms.

Don’t underestimate him though.

Will have you crawling back for seconds.

While not the roughest by any means, get him high enough and annoyed enough, he’ll make sure you’re not walking for the next two weeks.

Top Three: High Sex, Overstimulation, Throat-Fucking. 

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐦𝐩 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

35 years old

6’1’’.

Idk, fam, somethings off about this one but we're gonna ignore it, okay?

Stares a little too long, kinda like he’s hunting.

Makes your heart race a little being around him– fuck or fight i guess. I know which I’m doing. 

Tips nicely but never wants a private dance, likes to watch and drop cash at your feet after.

Weirdo tbh. It’s not like he ain’t got the money. 

Sucks to be you if you decide to go home with him.

You ain't coming back, honey.

Top Three: Blood Play, Knife Play, Bondage/Rope.

*** if by chance, i have missed your req and you know you sent it before reqs were closed, please let me know asap so i can add it to this list!! thank u all sm for u patience. i love u all<33

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

i have this idea for a porn au/cam au.

basically, camgirl!reader is in college, having fun there (with some frat boys), then things evolve when people in the industry falls smack dab in love with her and her vibe, so she starts doing porn.

my question, however, where i need your help, is what dudes should be in it? i need a good handful to go in a lot of different places...

my first thought was a mix of sebastian stan characters and chris evans characters. idk they just seem like they could fit the vibe... is that crazy or are there others that would fit the mold better?

i was just having thoughts today... no idea when or even if this becomes a thing, i don't usually share ideas when they are this raw, but hey, this is just for fun giggly times, so no pressure or anything

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐔 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: 𝔸 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥.

October 2nd Every Breath Like Smoke from a Cigarette

October 9th Filth in my Bones

October 16 Never Really Mine

October 23 You sang it like Hallelujah

October 30th Fate dealt you a trick hand

．．．🌑🌒🌓🌔𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖🌖🌗🌘🌑．．．

[thebluemage]

The Hills | Steve Kemp

Pairing | Steve Kemp x dark!reader

Warning | Explicit sexual content, 18+, smut, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, cyberstalking, hacking, gaslighting, dark web, black market harvesting, manipulation, mentions of canibalism, mentions of distributing of body parts, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, dark themes, Steve Kemp (he's a warning on his own!)

Summary | You discover Steve’s dark secret but you still admire him for it.

Word Count | 3163

A/N | Here’s the next part to Obsession, enjoy! ❤️ Beta’d by the amazing @lunarbuck, but all mistakes are my own. Banner & divider made by @vase-of-lilies. If y’all enjoy it, leave some feedback, comment and reblog. I’d really appreciate it!! 💗

Taglist: @superdcchick @hallecarey1 @dangertoozmanykids101 @jobean12-blog @buckysteveloki-me @happydelightfulstrawberry @lovehotch87

First chapter | Series Masterlist | Masterlist | My Ko-fi

‘I only call you when it’s half-past five. The only time that I’ll be by your side, I only love it when you touch me, not feel me. When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me. When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, yeah.’ - The Weeknd

A few days go by, and you can’t stop thinking about Steve. Between the back-and-forth texting, he is nice and funny, everything you could ever ask for. You’re absolutely smitten with him. Just as you pull your laptop onto your lap, you receive a text from Steve.

Hey, Angel. Want to meet up? 

Yes, of course! Are you calling me ‘angel’ now?

Oh, yeah! Unless, you want me to stop… If that makes you uncomfortable.

No, no, please. Keep going, I like that! 

Good, it’s a date! I will send you the address and time! I can’t wait to see you again! My angel.

He sends you the address that is located near the bookshop where you first met him, and it’s not far from your place. You decide to walk the distance there, which is just a few blocks away.

You walk into a warm and cozy cafe. The smell of coffee roams around the acoustic atmosphere of the place. It’s lovely. As you look through the crowd of people, you lock your eyes on Steve again. A smile spreads across your face.

“Hey there, handsome.” You approach the booth where he’s sitting. He stands up and greets you with a hug. “Hey, Angel.”

He’s wearing a soft brown sweater with black pants to complete the look. You wrap your arms around his body as you slide closer to him. His large hands touch your back while he pulls you into his embrace. The scent of his cologne infiltrates your nostrils as you smell his strong scent, a mix of a dewy scent of sage and bergamot. You never want to let him go, not ever.

“You smell nice.” You voice out when you sadly pull away from him.

“Thank you, Angel. You’re so delightful, and you look beautiful as ever.” He compliments  as he takes another look at you, roaming his eyes on your body. “Magnificent.”

Steve is utterly fixated on you. He can’t believe that he has found someone as heavenly as you are. Ethereal yet tangible, wholesome yet sinful to his desires. He only wants more of you with each passing second, he wants to know what you feel like wrapped around him as he rampantly thrusts into you. Fire arises when you look at him, as if you can see right through him. He can’t wait to take a bite out of you.

“You flatter me, Steve.” You reply to him, when you avert your eyes back to Steve, becoming aware of his intense gaze on you. Your eyes connect together, and you feel a spark igniting in your gut.

“It’s the truth.” He states as his stare lingers on. You couldn’t look away from him, afraid to lose this sense of coming home.

“Uhh, let’s sit down.” He takes your hand and maneuvers you into the booth. He takes his place with you sitting next to him.

“So, here come the awkward questions,” he declares while he laughs a bit. 

You tell Steve some basic information about yourself as he listens intently. You don’t want to reveal everything about yourself to him as you feel apprehensive about opening up, so you improvise a generic white lie.

I won’t tell him about my job and about my hacking skills. Maybe I can do more damage and use it to my advantage. 

You tell him a different job occupation and he nods notably.

A waiter comes to your booth to take your orders and leaves quickly, hurrying to the next customer. Several minutes later, another waiter comes with your orders.

“So, what brings you to town, Steve?” You ask him as you tilt your head curiously.

“My second residency.”

“Nice. I can imagine many women would line up just to get a procedure done by you.”

“Not that many, if I’m being honest. Most women that come to me want to change their physique. You have the occasional boob job, tummy tucks.” He plucks a red cherry out of the cup and pops it in his mouth.

“And butt lifts.” You finish for him with a smile.

“Yeah, that too,” He chuckles knowingly.

“Do you have any social media, perhaps?” You ask him as you take your phone out of your bag to search him online.

“I don’t have any.” He shakes his head immediately.

Hmm, strange. 

“Instagram?” You question, persisting on answers as you move closer to him.

“I don’t feel like sharing things about my private life.”

“Okay, that’s valid.”

“What about Twitter?” You continue the questions as you bring your body forward to him and lean your head against your hand for support. He takes a few sips from his drink, taking his time to answer.

“No. Does anyone have anything smart to say on Twitter? No way.” 

“How am I able to contact you more easily? If not via social media, and only texting?”

“I don’t know, you can always send me a letter the old-fashioned way,” he suggests jokingly, as you laugh at his witty comment. He looks up at you, and something mischievous glimmers through his eyes while he smiles at you. 

“What?” You ask him when he keeps staring at you, taking a glimpse at your mouth.

“You have such a beautiful smile.”

“Thank you, Steve. You’re so kind.”

The afternoon progresses to evening, and you and Steve lose track of time. When Steve goes to the toilet, you decide to peek into his wallet that he left behind. His ID card  presents a different identity than what he alluded to. His actual name is Brendan Steven Kemp. 

Huh. Should keep that in mind. What secrets are you hiding, Steve? No social media? Come on now, what doctor doesn’t have a social media of their own?

Before he comes back, you take a picture of his ID card from both sides for later search purposes and neatly put it back into his wallet. Between laughter and regular flirting, you both seem to be in a trance-like state, together in your own little bubble. The tension builds up between you and him; it’s undeniable. As soon as you two walk out of the cafe and walk the short distance to your apartment, the attraction is palpable.

“Fuck this.” You approach him and close the space between you and him. You grab his face and crush your lips onto his with a passionate fire.  

Steve immediately reciprocates and kisses you back. His mind races due to his own duality for you. He must have you. You moan when you feel his tongue sliding into your mouth, clashing onto yours with wild abandon. Steve is enticed by you while he roams his hands all over your body, like a madman. Overwhelming and hot. When you open your apartment door, you both storm through it. When your back hits against the wall of the tiny hallway, you start to pull your jacket off, and let it fall to the floor.

He pulls away slightly to catch his breath and looks at you through gentle eyes while cradling the sides of your face. “Maybe we’re going too fast.”

Oh. That’s the first time. Why is that?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush into it, we can slow down if you like.” You start to back away from the wall when Steve moves away from you, contemplating on what to do. You pick your jacket from the floor and neatly hang it to the coathanger.

“Uhh, do you want something to drink?” You ask him as you go further into your living room, going towards the kitchen. Steve runs a hand through his hair before scratching his forehead with his thumb as he watches you intently and doesn’t respond. He looks away for a second before you continue.

“Or eat?” He looks straight at you with a wild look again, as if he changed his mind again. 

Steve can’t let you go, no matter what. To him, you feel like a necessity, a longing that he hasn’t felt in ages, similar to the longing that he only has when he eats his type of meat. It’s inexplicable and indescribable. You’re the quintessential person of his desires. He lets himself fall on your couch when he sighs and directs his gaze to you again, almost pleading and hopeful. 

“Just you, Angel.” He gets out of the couch and makes a beeline straight toward you, grabs your face, and pulls you into him, pressing his lips hard against yours. Your breath catches in your throat while you place your hands on his head. A whimper slips past your lips as you’re unable to resist your longing for him.

You greedily touch Steve’s body wherever you can as you guide him to your bedroom. Every touch makes you crave him more, your thoughts whirl around in your mind at a rapid pace. He groans and moves the hand to cup the back of your neck and deepens the kiss, spearing his tongue in your mouth. Your nipples harden and your pussy clenches the longer Steve kisses you. You lay on your bed and start to undress all of your clothes quickly while Steve does the same, staring at you with a hefty and lewd gaze glimmering through his eyes. 

He climbs on top of you as he hovers his body over you while he stares passionately; his cerulean eyes growing darker by the second. He can’t believe your beauty, a stunning sight before his own eyes as if you’re a celestial being. He slowly moves his head down and starts to kiss you deeply again.

“I want you, my love,” he muses out hoarsely. He’s breathing just as harshly as you are.

“I’ve wanted you for days. Ohh!” You exclaim when Steve cups your breasts in his hands and molds your flesh before he pinches and plucks at your nipples, sending shivers up your spine.

“Hmm, you’re so responsive to me. Good girl.” He utters out seductively. He takes one of your breasts to his mouth and laps at your nipple with his tongue while flicking the other with his hand.

“Oh, fuck!” You announce as you close your eyes at the way Steve’s salacious tongue swirls around your sensitive nipple. He hums with how your soft skin feels to him, savoring every inch of you; his hands making their way to your aching core. 

“Let me worship you, angel. I need to taste you now.” He rasps out, with urgency in his voice. He makes his way down while he gently bites into your skin, leaving red marks on the surface. He sets himself between your thighs and bites into each of them.

“Oh, fuck Steve!” You moan as your face contorts with pleasure as he suddenly shoves his face right onto your heat.

“I’m going to ravish you until you’re not able to utter a single word.” His dark cerulean eyes pierce through you as he hums. “And you’re going to be mine.” The feeling of his tongue going through your slit makes your back arch from the bed, and you moan out his name.

“Please, Steve! I– I’ll do anything!” You plead through jagged breaths while he deliciously defiles you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you firmly into place. He gives you long strokes, capturing every bit of essence you have. He sucks and laps your wet slick up with his mouth as if it’s the last drop of water he’ll ever drink in his life. He’s enticed by your taste, and he can’t wait until his cock is deep inside of you.

“Aahh! Steve!” You wail as you grasp a handful of his luscious hair and pull it. He groans, sending surges of lightning over your body. Your hips buck up as your body quiver underneath him, taking in all the bliss until you feel one of his fingers prodding into you, seeking entrance to your wet and aching pussy.

“Oh fuck!!” You exclaim as you arch your back from the bed while you hear the muffled groans of Steve underneath you. In one swift motion, he delves two fingers into your slit. A coat of your slick envelops his fingers as Steve licks ferociously on your clit.

“Come for me.” His sultry demand comes out low and husky as if he’s trying to contain his never-ending lust for you.

Your hips buck as your head falls onto the pillow from beneath you, when your eyes roll back into their sockets. You feel yourself come undone for him as your walls squeeze around Steve’s digits. 

“Aaaahh, Steve!!”

“Good. Good girl.” He ushers to your cunt as his strokes lightly decrease. He licks your wetness up with his tongue, and he hums out delicately.

“Hmm, you’re so exquisite.”

“T–thank you, Steve.” 

Your chest heaves heavily up as you gradually catch up your breath. He picks up your body tenderly and lays you gently next to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. You still feel his erection against the lobes of your ass.

You turn your head in his direction with a questioning look.

“Huh, and what about you?” You look at him, confused yet still dazed from your ravenous orgasm.

“Shh, sh, don’t worry about me, I just want to be close to you, skin-to-skin contact. This night was about your pleasure, not mine,” He simply answers. “Go to sleep, my Angel. You deserve to be well rested.”

Your eyes begin to feel heavy as the dim night light protrudes from the curtain of your window. You lift your arm and wrap it around his chest, pulling yourself more into his embrace. 

“Okay, Steve.” You softly accept his demand as your mind dwindles away from any worries. Steve sighs peacefully in return.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, my Angel.” It’s the last thing you hear before your eyes drift to a close, and you fall into a deep slumber.

The next day stumbles in slowly, with the sunlight peeking through the curtain. Rays of sunshine fall upon your face, enveloping you in warmth. Your eyes open slowly, and you’re in Steve’s arms. He’s still sleeping peacefully when suddenly an alarm starts to go off. Steve opens his eyes rapidly and checks the clock, he hurriedly gets out of bed.

“Oh, fuck. I totally forgot the time,” He says when he starts to dress up in his pants again before taking his shirt off the ground. “My shift at the hospital starts in thirty minutes.”

“Oh, what hospital do you work at?” You ask innocently.

“St. John’s Hospital,” He answers while he pulls his shirt over his head. “My first procedure starts in an hour. A patient is going to be very happy with their boob job.” He continues.

“Well, they’re in good hands with you.” You affirm encouragingly. You hoist yourself up from the bed in a sitting position. 

“Why, thank you. I'll see you tonight, Angel.” He takes your hand in his and kisses the top of your hand gently. 

“That’s alright, have a good day at work, handsome.”

“I’ll be thinking of you,” He softly intones when he’s all fully dressed and gathering all his belongings. “See you later, Angel.” And with that, he leaves through your apartment door. 

You squeal cheerily as you start your daily morning routine. Once you’re dressed and finished eating, you think you should do research on ‘Steve’. You want to know everything about him, so naturally, you take up your laptop and place it on your island and decide to do a simple search on Google. The only results that come up are from his reconstructive surgery website and a few articles that he wrote but there’s something else too, another result, a woman named Ann Kemp. 

Out of curiosity, you click on the link. And it redirects you to a Facebook page of a blonde-haired woman with a picture of her family standing in front of a house. And there he is, Steve, standing and smiling with his family. He has a wife and a dog. Ann is holding the dog on a leash. You can’t help but to take another look at the woman, there’s something off about her, but you can’t exactly pinpoint it. You zoom in on her, looking at her hand, and you notice she’s wearing a wedding ring on her left hand. 

You should have known that he was married. He’s too good to be true. You take a different approach with your searching. Since you're a talented hacker, you know your way around technology and the mechanics of it. You pull up a more advanced browser that can search literally anything related or attached to that specific name, word or thing.  The general public would know that browser and use it to go on the Dark Web. You have a program installed, so your IP address isn’t trackable. You remember having a picture of his ID with his real name on your phone. So, you take your phone out and look into it and you type in his name ‘Brendan Steven Kemp’. Up come a thousand search results from the normal search results of ‘reconstructive doctor' to a much sinister, more disturbing and shocking result.

There’s a business. The logo contains a white background, and a red logo of a head of a goat with a snake eating itself around it is displayed. You click on the logo, and it redirects you to a website. To your horror, you come to find that Steve practices in the most inhuman activities ever done. He harvests human meat and sells them on the dark web. And here you are, looking at his webshop. The various ‘products’ are listed by mainly female names. There’s a hand that goes by ‘Hope’, and the description is ever so horribly detailed as if it is a delicacy. With a price tag of thirteen thousand dollars!!

I knew it!! You have a wife!! I have to get out her of the picture, though. I can’t have her orbiting around you like some lost puppy dog. I can’t have that, Steve. There’s also something wrong with her, and how did you meet her anyway? Let me guess, you probably kidnapped her too, and she got Stockholm syndrome as a result.

You immediately go to work with it and pick through his encrypted layers of codes, and when you finally reach the barrier, you unlock the access. With ease, you gain access to his illicit webshop. With another set of difficult codes you shut off his website, and everything turns black.

So, that’s why you’re so private, Steve. You have a wife and are a cannibal. Being able to kidnap dozens of women, probably mutilate them, so as to keep them alive until there’s nothing left, consume them, and ultimately kill them to sell them. And I thought so highly of you. Are you going to do the same to me? Only one way to find out, I guess.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"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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[funkybarnes]

if bad guy why hot??

[abbatoirablaze]

Welcome To The Dollhouse, Same Tastes

Word Count:   2k

Warnings: mentions of being drugged, violence, mentions of cannibalism, manipulation, mentions of smut, dubcon relationship, secrets, angst, threats of murder,

“Ohhh, fuck…you’re so beautiful like this, baby,” he growled, his hands trailing over her breasts and the swell of her stomach until they were in line with his face, which was inches from her core. His breath fanned across the warmth radiating off of her petals as his hands reached forward and spread them, revealing the glistening of her lips, “god, I want to eat you…”

“I’m not on the menu, Brendan,” she giggled softly as she reached forward and her hands began to play with his hair, “you know that…”

“Mmm, you know in what way I meant,” he growled playfully as she tugged on his tresses.  Their eyes met, and she saw a sensual danger to them before his eyes flickered hungrily back to her cunt, “I want to devour every morsel of your arousal.”

She shifted, the words affecting her in a specific way, “Brendan…”

His own erection pressed against the bed frame as he pulled her forward until he could drape her thighs over his shoulders.  She moaned as he pressed a delicate kiss to her mound.

“I love seeing you like this,” he growled, his hands trailing back up to her stomach where he cradled her bump, “love seeing you pregnant with my child…breasts swelling…pussy always sopping wet for me when I come…I love the way your body reacts to me, goddess…”

“Brendan…”

“Shh,” he cooed, trying to dissuade her from thinking about their own lives outside of what was in the room, “I want to enjoy the moment with you, goddess.  I want to relish in my partner’s sweet, perfect form…her immaculate beauty.  How we create perfect, gorgeous babies…how well that tight cunt milks me dry…”

“I wanna come home,” she whimpered softly, eyes meeting his as she begged him, “I-I want to be home…with you…with the boys…I want to know them….I want them to know me as mommy…not her.”

“They do,” he promised gently, kissing her thigh, “the boys know that you are their mommy…they know that Ann is just a facade…they-“

“Then let me come home…I want to be home…with you…”

His jaw twitched, “Goddess-“

“I’m not just a toy,” she said quickly, cutting him off as her lip began to quiver.  She hurriedly pushed herself away from him and up the bed, “I don’t want to do this anymore, Brendan…aren’t you tired of this?”

He sucked in on his cheeks and looked away from her, defeat coating the air, “of course I’m tired of it, goddess…don’t you think I wish it was you in my bed every night?  Don’t you think I wish that when the boys have nightmares and ask for mommy in the middle of the night, you were there and not Ann?  They won’t let her touch them.  They won’t allow her to be part of their lives because they know that all she is to me is live-in cattle.  But Ann doesn’t want you home, Lindsey, we’ve gone over this.”

“In nine years all you’ve taken is an arm and a leg, Brendan,” she spat, “nine years.  I’ve given you our sons.  I-we’re going to have a daughter in two month-“

“Don’t you think I know that?” he growled, cutting her off as he stood, “don’t you think I know how messed up this all is, Lindsey?  I want you home.  I do.  The boys want you home.  I DON’T WANT TO RAISE ANOTHER CHILD WITHOUT YOU!”

“If you really felt that way then you would have told Ann to go to hell.”

“She knows too much,” he hissed, “she knows all about my operations…she could make sure that I never saw life outside of a prison, Lindsey.  She could make sure the kids were taken away and that I never saw them again.”

“Then put her on the menu…”

“I-I can’t…”

“Then get out of my room…” she growled, “I don’t know why I thought you would have changed after my fling with Lee…but you haven’t.  Tell Barnes and Rogers you’re done…I’ll go back to the floor.  There are plenty of men with this kind of kink…”

“If another man touches you, I’ll kill them!” he promised.

“No, you won’t,” she spat, “just like you won’t touch Lee…because this is what I want…and you promised that you would always listen to me…remember?”

“Lindsey!”

“Get out, Brendan…”

“You’re taking her!”

Her arms crossed protectively over her chest, and she rolled her eyes, “I don’t want him here.”

“Well, you are no longer welcome at the dollhouse, Lindsey!” Bucky growled from his spot at his desk, “we don’t put up with those sorts of things.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” he mumbled sadly as his eyes fluttered shut.  Goddess watched as the lawyer’s eyes fought against the powder she’d mixed in with his own party favors.  His hand slid down her frame and stopped over her stomach.  The baby kicked against his hand, “y-you’re pregnant…it’s so hot, goddess…”

“You’re tired, Mike!” she whispered softly, petting his short hair.  The lawyer looked up at her through thick lashes, confusion crossing his features if only for a moment until she stroked his warm cheek, “get some sleep…”

“You’re su-such a good woman,” he muttered, “if-if this was my baby, I’d treat you so good.  Y-you wouldn’t even be in a place like this…”

“But it’s not!”

She barely recognized how hollow her own voice had sounded. 

“I know,” he frowned, eyes trailing back down to her stomach, “but we could pretend…right?  I-I know that you would take Bodecker up here and that weirdo has a kink of playing cops and robbers…di-did you roleplay with him?  Or-or is that why the two of you stopped?  Got too frisky and tried to rail you while he pretended to arrest you.”

“Go to sleep, Mike.”

“I-I’m not tired,” he lied, fighting against his own exhausted eyes once more, “I-I wanna stay up with you…play house…we-we can pretend that-“

“No…”

His brow furrowed as he looked back up at her, “No?  Y-you girls don’t say no.  Why are you being mean to me Goddess?”

Her jaw twitched as she fought back the urges she’d felt in her first two pregnancies…urges that had normally made her stomach turn, but when she was pregnant, was like her own personal high.  It was the reason Brendan had two identical bite marks; one on his ass and one on his inner thigh. 

Her eyes focused in on the lean muscle on the lawyer’s thigh. 

His cum was already drying against it, and that would make his lightly sheened skin taste all the more salty, but she didn’t mind. 

“Mike…”

“Yeah goddess?”

“Do you think that maybe…I could make it up to you?”

“Hmm?”

She shifted until she was out of his reach, and she pushed him onto his back, before sliding down his chest, “let me make it up to you then, Mike…me being mean…”

“Y-you wanna make it up to me?”

“Mhmm…”

He smiled as her hands trailed down his chest.  His cock started to twitch once more, already hardening again as she placed herself between his thighs. 

One hand gripped his length and began pumping him, while the other searched along his thigh for just a plump enough piece of flesh. 

She started kissing along the lean frame of the lawyer, and he frowned, watching her sink lower on his body until her lips were just a few inches above and to the outside of his knee. 

“Wh-what are you doing baby?”

“Just playing…” she offered, pressing another kiss to the skin that was made up of just enough muscle and the slightest bit of fat.  She watched as his eyes fluttered shut once more when her other hand reached up and started playing with his balls.  His hands went down into her hair and when he moaned again, his eyes fluttering shut once more, she took her chance.

“She took a chunk out of his thigh, Kemp,” Steve Rogers growled at the doctor.  When he didn’t react, Steve slammed his hand down heavily on the desk, causing Goddess to jump, “God DAMN IT, KEMP!”

“I didn’t ask that you call him!”

“Well, we can’t get ahold of your sister,” Bucky grunted, “ever since Steve called Hansen out and he beat the shit out of the magician then bought Angel out they’ve been off the grid.”

Her eyes snapped to his, “you tried calling Jen?”

“Don’t worry, she doesn’t know of you and the cannibal corpse’s similar tastes,” Bucky grumbled, instinctively looking away from the couple, “but Steve and I are in agreement with this…either he takes you or we’re turning you over to the authorities…as of now, we have our asses covered.  Bodecker has a soft spot for you so he’s making sure Weiss doesn’t file a report.  Cho took care of it to make him think that he just took too much drugs and stumbled out of the dollhouse then got attacked by a dog…she already altered the bite so that it doesn’t look human.”

“Then problem solved,” Brendan began, his hand running through his hair, “I mean-“

“We know that she had this taste because of you, Kemp!”

“Bunny-“

“No,” she said firmly, pushing away from the wall where she stood to go towards Goddess, “she wasn’t like this before you, Kemp….but I know what happened on those little getaway trips to your workshop when you found out she was pregnant.  I know how you conditioned her to crave what you do…just like I know about how you let her do something to you that no one else ever has.”

He paled before looking at his Goddess, “L-Lindsey…”

“What is she talking about?” Bucky asked, shooting daggers at Kemp.

“What are you keeping from us, Bunny?”

“You promised-“

“And you promised me that you had it under control,” Bunny replied as she pulled her younger counterpart into her arms, ignoring how the bits of blood stained her clothes, “you told me that you were okay…that you could contain it…”

“I-I thought I could,” she whimpered, shaking her head, “Bunny, I-“

“Tammy told me you got GHB from her…that’s why he wasn’t able to fight you off completely…” she told her softly, “you broke too many rules, Linds….I can’t let you put Steve and James in that position…he’s done this to you…he’s continued to knock you up and condition you to crave it…he needs to own up to the responsibility he has…”

“What the hell is going on here?” Steve growled, suddenly realizing there was much more going on beneath his nose that he’d ever imagined.

“The house upstate…my workshop…th-that’s the only place I could take you,” He admitted nervously as he looked at the woman that he really had trained to be the perfect woman for him, “I-I can’t stay there all the time with you, Goddess…but that-that’s the only place I have…”

“I want the kids there with me.”

“But Ann-“

“Fuck Ann,” Goddess spat, “if you want me to leave with you then you tell me right now you put her in that basement the second you get the chance…I-I’ll let them do what they want with me otherwise…but I’m not playing second fiddle anymore, Brendan…it’s me or Ann.”

“Okay…” he replied after a moment, “I get it…”

“No…I don’t think you do,” she said firmly, “I want you to take me home…and then tonight when you go back to her, I want you to tell her that you are taking her on a surprise vacation…then drug her.  After she’s out, you tell the boys that we’re finally going to be a family and you have them pack a bag.  And you drive them to me.  If she’s not in the basement, her auction started by the time sunrise hits…if I’m not hugging my sons by the time the sun peaks over the tree line, if the first thing I don’t hear about on the news is you burning down the life you had with her, and that house engulfed in flames, then I’m disappearing, Brendan.  And then, I’ll do what I always told you…I’ll hunt her down, and kill her.  And then I’ll come after you.  You taught me all of your tricks, Brendan…I love you…but I’m done pretending that we aren’t the same.  You made me…now you choose how this ends.”

[navybrat817]

https://www.tumblr.com/navybrat817/750225493090074624/hi-navy-hope-you-dont-mind-the-question-but?source=share

I thought Lee, Steve, and Andy were there, too?

Hi, nonnie. Are you referring to this ask here?

Lee, Steve, and Andy do exist in this universe. I just don't have readers planned for them at this time because my muse isn't cooperating for ideas for them.

Love and thanks. ❤️

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅

this is the more extended version of my unwanted drabble, thank you to @jessybarnes for some of the ideas. I hope you all enjoy.

summary - steve tricked you before kidnapping you, leaving you locked away in the basement as you begin to mess with his mind.

warning - angst, mentions of killing, mentions of sadness, mentions of being trapped.

the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

“What? You want me to meow or something?” 

Steve sat there shocked, staring at you with wonder. It’s as if you had no care and weren’t freaking out like others. He stares into your eyes, seeing nothing there, and his head tilts as he looks at you. “No..?” He looks confused, wondering. “How do you feel?” 

“I don’t.” You state, turning your head back to the wall and staring at it. You miss how his eyebrows shoot up. “So… When are you going to kill me?” You pick at your nails, continuing to feel stupid for thinking someone like him would actually want you. You turn your head when you don’t hear a response and tilt your head as he stares at you, confused. “That’s why you tricked me, right? To kill me, you didn’t exactly pretend to like me, drug me, and tie me up in your basement because you’re madly in love with me, and that’s the only way you thought you could get me.” 

“You’re not afraid? Why aren’t you screaming, crying or swearing at me?” He’s so confused, getting closer to you, kneeling before you as he looks into your eyes. “Why is there nothing? You’re so empty.” 

You blink, staring at him blankly. “If you don’t mind, ‘Steve’. I would like not to talk and for you to just get to the point.” You move away from him, crawling up the bed and lying on your back as you stare at the ceiling. “I’ll be here… Waiting patiently for my death. Not like I have anywhere to go.” 

You let out a sigh when he left the room, one side of your mind begging for him to stay and the other staying quiet. You couldn’t let yourself fall for his stupid face again, and you didn’t want to beg someone to love you. You wanted that to come naturally. But you don’t think that will ever happen because… You were you, and people didn’t like what they saw.

Steve was curious, and you were like a puzzle to him. He had never met anyone so void of emotion and missed the woman he met. You seemed so happy and carefree, sure. He did notice that you were more closed off and didn’t seem to let him so close. He wanted to change that. He needed some sort of reaction, some sort of emotion. How can you be so calm during all this? Steve left you alone for a while, barely acknowledging the other women locked up, barely acknowledging his wife and kids, or the women he promised dates to. You were occupying his mind, and it was driving him crazy. He had destroyed most of the upstairs, trying anything to get you out of his head. He couldn’t take it. The look in your eyes, your words, it was all getting to him.

Steve remembered your dates and how you told him about the books you used to write. He recalled that you said it was the only thing that made you genuinely feel something, and an idea sparked. Steve gathered a notebook, some pens, and some food and water before making his way down to the basement. He knocks on the door before sliding it open and smiling at you. “I brought you something that I think you’ll enjoy.” You continue to stare at the wall, your eyes tired. Steve sighs, softly walking over and placing the items before you. “I’m trusting you with these pens, but if you do something—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” You scoff, eyes slowly moving to connect with his. “That was already your plan, and this would make the killing go faster.” You roll your eyes, barely looking at the things he placed before you. “Did you need anything else? Because I’d rather you just hurry this along.” Your head turns again, ignoring him because what was the point of giving him any more attention? 

“Why are you behaving like this? I bought you some of the things I remember you talked about. You should at least feel happy?” Your head falls back as you let out a laugh, startling Steve, who stares at you as if you’ve grown three heads. “What? What’s so funny?!” Why wouldn’t you just submit?! Why were you so different from the others?! It bewildered Steve how you could sit so emotionless and then laugh as if he had said something funny.

“You. Do you think giving me a notebook and pens would suddenly make me happy? Did you not stop to think that you are the problem? I have already come to terms with the fact that no one will ever love me, that you only pretended so you could kidnap me and kill me. So why aren’t you killing me?! Why are you taking your sweet time?!” You snap, struggling against the chains as you stand and move toward Steve, punching his chest. “Kill me! Kill me, goddammit!” You scream, your eyes are still emotionless, yet your words hold so much power.

Steve holds your wrists, stopping you from hitting him. He stares down at you, wondering why his heart clenches like this. “No.” He moves away, needing to get out of this room and get away from you as you make his head fuzzy. He watches as you stare at him in disbelief.

“So, what… I’m not good enough to love and not good enough to kill either?” You sink back onto the bed, your eyes staring at the wall as you realise you will never be good enough for anything or anyone. Steve quickly leaves the room, going through the house, destroying more things on the way. How could you get into his head like this? No one else had done it, so why were you so different?

You sat there, staring at the untouched notebook before slowly reaching for it, and as you grabbed the pen, the words began to flow out of you and onto the page. Everything you felt deep inside was coming out through stories. Not feeling in the mood to eat or drink, you spend most of the day and night writing. As many more days pass, Steve comes in and out with more gifts and food. You continued to ignore him, not knowing how to react, waiting for him to decide when it was your time to die finally. But the day never came. You think a month had passed, but you weren’t so sure. Steve walked into your room, undoing the chains and holding out his hand. “C’mon. I’ve prepared us some dinner.” You stare at him warily before slowly standing and following him. He leads you to the kitchen and pulls out the chair for you. 

“Why am I out here?” You sit, tapping the table, watching him place the food onto the plates, not daring to touch it as Steve sits across from you. 

“I’ve come to realise something, and at first, it scared me. You’re different from the rest.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. Do you know how confusing this is for me? You’ve taken over my mind, and I can’t focus on anything else.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I’ve stopped you from tricking other women into believing you love them.” Your eyes roll again, leaning back into the chair. “Do you need a tissue?” You pick up the napkin beside your plate, offering it out to him.

Steve stares at you blankly, his eye twitching as he’s stuck between wanting to strangle you and make love to you. “No, I do not need a tissue. I’m trying to tell you that I feel something for you.” He’s startled again as you laugh.

“You feel something for me?” You feel tears prick your eyes as you continue to laugh. “Oh, god. That’s probably the funniest thing I’ve heard. I think you are delusional.” You shake your head, and your laughter slowly dies down. Your eyes connect with him, and you stare. “You’ve already got me here. You don’t need to keep lying to make yourself feel better.” You continue to tap on the table. “So… When am I going to die?” 

“You aren’t. I’m keeping you alive.”

“Oh, great. Fantastic. Sounds so fun to be alive and kept locked away in a basement for the rest of my life. Good plan.” You give a little clap and throw him a fake smile. But deep down, your stomach twisted, and your heart dropped. This was worse than waiting to die. Now you would be locked away, unloved, and eventually wither away. Your expression on the outside stayed void of any emotion. 

“No, you will stay up here. With me.” 

You wished you had never even gone to that stupid market. You wished you had never believed Steve’s stupid words or smile. How could you be so stupid to believe someone would ever choose you?

You were unwanted.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[sstan-hoe]

𝒊. 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺 𝑫𝑬𝑵 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — fem!reader × incubus!andy barber/bucky barnes/steve kemp/steve rogers/nick fowler/ari levinson/ransom drysdale/lloyd hansen

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — all you wanted was to go on vacation but your car didn't have the same idea. Almost breaking down in the middle of nowhere you luckily made it to a house with lights. A handsome stranger and his friends offer to help you. They're devilishly handsome…or almost demon like? Something about them entrances you.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — nothing major yet!!! it's not violent or smutty, will pick up tho in the next chapter

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — the first ones here! It's short but the smut ones will be longer and the next one may be a little longer depends if I add smut or how much, follow, reblog, comment!!! follow @sstanhoe-updates for updates — taglist is with conditions

After all the stress you had to endure in the past few months in your office you finally had the long-wanted vacation. Away from the loud noises of New York and over to Italy Lemon Sul Garda for ten days, but first you decided to visit an old friend of yours in New Haven and from there to Boston to fly to Europe.

You checked if you had everything before getting into your care and starting your engine, it wasn’t a too long drive to New Haven. You typed in the route into you navigation to make sure you would drive correctly.

However, you hoped you wouldn’t just stop in the middle of the road. Your car wasn’t the newest and it had a habit of driving you crazy.

The drive started out good until there was a traffic jam causing you to almost park on the highway for two hours until you were near the next exit. Finally driving off you drove and sighed in relief, the navigation quickly switched and led you over a country road where there was nothing but trees and trees.

It was an endless road and always looked the same. Now thanks to the traffic jam it would not take two and a half hours but almost five.

The road got boring, so you put your playlist, the first song that came up was Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA. A big smile spread on your face, and you started to sing along, rolling down your window letting the warm summer air flow through your hair.

“And I'm possessive, it isn't nice. You've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice!” you shouted on the top of your lungs while laughing.

All the stress from the past washed away from you, you felt free for the first time in ages. “But now it isn't true. Now everything is new,” you continued singing along. The road got emptier as time passed, the sun set, and you groaned as you noticed. You planned on getting to New Haven while it was still bright outside.

Now it would be dark when you came to New Haven, and you hated that. Shortly after the fifth song the sun was gone, and the only light were your headlights occasionally a streetlamp.

Suddenly there was a loud sound coming from the hood of your car and you slowed down unintentionally. Your face fell as you car came to a complete stop.

“No, no, no what are you doing? This can’t be happening,” you complained letting your head fall onto the steering wheel with a heavy sigh. You looked up and saw smoke coming from the hood, it made you quickly put on the hazard light and get out of the car.

Opening the hood, a huge cloud of black smoke busted out causing you to cough horribly.

“Fucking shit,” you cursed, it looked awful, and you probably needed someone to tow the car and you would need a taxi or something.

However, to even get a tow truck you needed your phone, getting it out of the car you noticed that you had no signal. Your face changed into confusion, your playlist was just playing so why wouldn’t that work?

Just then your playlist stopped as if it heard your thoughts. You looked around to see if there was anything, in the distance you thought you could make out a house.

You had no other choice but to walk there, it was too late for any car to come by, and it wasn’t like the road was very busy anyway. In the last hour you drove there was not one car coming by.

Walking down the dark, empty street an uneasy feeling climbed up your neck. You may be the only person on this street but that didn’t stop the fear.

After an exhausting fifteen minutes you finally found a house or more like a mansion, it looked beautiful. It was mostly dark, but a few rooms were still illuminated giving you a hint that someone was still awake.

Nervously you walked up to the front door and knocked while fumbling with your fingers.

The door opened and revealed a man with short brown hair, piercing blue eyes in a blue henley and dark jeans, had a broody expression on his face. “Hello?” he asked, confused looking you up and down.

“Hey, my uh car just broke down like fifteen minutes away from here and I’ve got no signal so I couldn’t call anyone. I don’t mean to intrude but uh, can you help me?” you asked softly not quite meeting his gaze.

“Yeah sure, let me just call Ari,” he turned around into the house, “Levinson! There’s a girl who needs help with her car, get ya ass down here,” he shouted making you flinch slightly.

Ari jogged down the stairs, stopped midway as he saw you. You looked gorgeous and so needy. He came back and continued towards you and Bucky, “hey there, I’m Ari nice to meet you,” he gave you a grin extending his right hand to you.

He had lighter hair than the other man but almost the same blue eyes, a full beard and longer hair, broad shoulders overall huge in contrast to the brunette he wore a light blue flannel and shorts.

Taking his hand you told him your name, your voice sounded melodic to both men.

“Let’s go Bucky,” Ari patted Bucky on the back and walked out, sending you a charming smile, “shit it’s rainin’,” he said after coming to a stop to wait for Bucky.

You didn’t even know it was raining, the door was covered. “Do you have an umbrella?” Bucky interrupted and you shook your head slightly. For the first time the brunette gave you a smile, “it’s okay, you can wait inside. Andy will keep you company, don’t worry we will find your car doll,” he promised before turning back once again, “Andy! Look after the pretty girl,” he shouted and followed after Ari.

Right then a man with the same dark hair as Bucky, just a little longer and more styled with a neat full beard walked in, he had a white dress shirt with a loosened necktie paired with dress pants.

Andy had the same reaction like Ari and Bucky, fully blown away by your beauty. Him and Bucky being the oldest in the house made them see a lot over the years but never someone like you. “I'm Andy,” he extended his hand to shake yours, you took his hand saying your name again, “my car just broke down,” you quickly added.

You were taken back by all the handsome men that lived here, you didn’t know how to act.

“Well come in I will make you a cup of tea and you can meet the rest of the guys,” Andy explained as he led you inside the house. Your eyes widened, there were more?

You followed him into the kitchen where you found another brunette, his hair was maybe as long as Andy’s but not as styled and looked like it had more volume. Unlike Andy and Ari he had a clean shaved face, even Bucky had a light stubble meaning it was still a difference to the other three. He had white shirt on with a red jacket on top that suited him perfectly and he was definitely on the hot list. “That's Brandon, but we call him Steve. We have two Steve's so to differentiate them just say Brandon,” Andy enlightened you.

Steve turned around, his reaction no different to Bucky, Ari and Andy. “Well hello, where did you come from?” he asked with a sly smirk. You are at a loss of words, too flabbergasted with the fact that you were in a house with four hot men. “Her car broke down, wanted to give her tea,” thank god Andy jumped in. He moved around the kitchen gathering the ingredients, “what kinda tea you like?” he questioned.

”Uh, I uhm like peppermint,” you said quietly not trusting your voice.

Andy gave you a reassuring smile, he liked your shyness but was also interested in seeing what else there was to you. Steve on the other hand wanted to get you out of yourself, he took your hand and guided you to sit on the kitchen island.

“Where were you headed?” Steve began asking you and leaned himself against the counter next to you. You took a shaky breath,“New Haven and then Boston to Italy.” The man's eyes widened and his lips formed into a grin, “I was in Italy once, a beautiful country.” As you were about to respond two new men walked in.

One had a mustache that looked like he came straight from a porno and shortish hair, he wore an expensive looking polo while the other man had shorter hair than Bucky but the same stubble and wore like Andy a dress shirt and pants. Both looked surprised to see you sitting on the counter.

“Just perfect! Bunny, that's Lloyd with porn stach and Nick with the Andy slash mob boss look,” Steve told you pointing at each one.

Your mouth dropped slightly open, another two men which looked hot as hell.

Before either one of them could say a word Ari and Bucky came back bearing bad news. “I'm sorry doll but that car of yours is gonna take a while, we could get a tow truck tomorrow. Do you have anywhere to be?” Bucky was the one to tell you.

“I wanted to visit my friend but I can cancel, I have this flight to Italy in four days though,” you explained to them. You had no idea what they would do, would they let you stay? You had nowhere else to go. “I think you can stay here, what do you guys think?” Ari asked out loud, stepping forward.

Lloyd as well as Nick were sure they would have no problem with you staying here and the others thought no different. That was when Lloyd remembered something, “we gotta ask Rogers, he will freak out if we don't and Drysdale too or at least tell him.” There were two more?

All of the men nodded, as if on queue there could be heard loud bickering from the next room.

Nick shook his head and walked to the door, opening it he shouted; “get in here assholes we have a meeting. Now,” the bickering stopped and in stepped a blonde man and brunette, both shaved clean and the hair as long as Andy, tall and good build. A wet dream.

“This is Y/n our guest, her car broke down and she needs a place to stay. Doll that's Ransom and Steve.”

So this was the other Steve, you looked from Bucky to the two who looked intrigued like the other seven did. “She can stay,” Ransom instantly said, causing relief to wash over you, thankful you didn't have to sleep in your car. “Yeah it's the right thing to do, we have enough guest bedrooms, I'll show you,” Steve waved at you to follow him. You quickly jumped from the kitchen island to follow him but not before Andy pressed the cup of tea into your hands. Whispering a thank you, you went after Steve.

As you were gone, Lloyd clicked his tongue against his teeth, “we're keeping here right?”

“Yes,” “definitely,” “yep,” “for sure,” “uh huh,” “'course,” all men in the room agreed with Lloyd.

“But I do wanna go to Italy,” Brandon cut in, for a moment everyone looked at him before they nodded their heads and gave their consent again.

“One thing though, do we tell her?” Andy asked, looking around. Some faces looked unsure while others thought they needed to tell you.

“I mean she will find out either way…,” Ransom brought up and got agreement in response. “Well then let's wish her a good night…separately,” groans could be heard as Andy made the announcement and got a pad on the back from Bucky.

𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺 𝑫𝑬𝑵 — @smile1318 @georgiapeach30513 @alina02 @rogersbarber @antisocialwritingx

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 49

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: mondays are for pain.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

“What’s wrong with her?” Ann’s sharp tone is dulled behind the dim blur all around you. 

“She... she’ll be fine. She’s... adjusting,” Steve explains hesitantly. 

A heavy sigh makes your shiver, an echo of another monster. You sink further down into the bed, eyes shut, body locked up. You couldn’t move if you tried. 

“You had to get her? She’s stupid. Maria wasn’t--” 

“Shut up about Maria,” Steve barks at Ann. “She’s gone. You want a kid, this is what we do.” 

“Should we... should we talk about this here?” She asks. 

“You’re the one who brought it up, Ann,” he retorts. “Besides, she’s dissociating. She probably thinks she’s at home. It’s better she’s like this. Easier.” 

“It won’t be when--” 

“Shut up,” he snarls again. “Go.” 

Silence. Tense and thick. Finally, a set of footfalls depart and another come closer. You don’t react as the figure sits on the edge of the bed, not even as they touch your shoulder through the layers of blankets. 

“Sweetie, how are you doing?” Steve coos. “You wanna get up? You must be hungry.” 

You don’t answer him. You can’t. You’re embarrassed. He’s right about you. Ann is right about you. You’re broken. That fact doesn’t hurt as much as another epiphany; he chose you because of that. You’re not special, you’re not pretty, he doesn’t want you. They want what you can give them. Just like Andy. 

“Can I bring you some food? You have to eat, sweetie,” rubs your shoulder. “Not just for you.” 

You want to scream. Just the very thought of having a baby makes your skins crawl. Your muscles constrict to the point of agony every time you try to imagine it. To you, the very idea is a like a parasite invading your body. 

Just like they did. 

Andy. Ann. Steve. 

She’s right. You are stupid. You made the same mistake twice. Worse, you betrayed and abandoned the only person who every cared about you. The person who would never violate you or call you dumb and useless. You left Amber behind but you think it’s better that you did. Better for her. 

You have no where to go. You’re trapped. This is how it’s going to be. You’re going to keep letting them use you and then you’re going to have a baby. A baby! A baby? No, no, no. 

“Sweetie,” Steve pulls down the blanket to caress your face, “you wanna come to the office today? We can talk. Maybe after, we can go shopping. We’ll need to start getting stuff for the nursery.” You shudder as he strokes along your cheek, “you know, me and Ann, we never thought we could have another. You’re... you’re giving us an amazing gift. You’re making our dreams come true.” 

You stay as you are. He takes a deep breath and spreads his hand over your head. He bends over you and brushes his lips along your temple and to your ear. 

“Get the fuck up.” 

His voice makes you squeak and recoil. As you try to pull away, he catches the back of your head and keeps you there. Your eyes flick open and you gape up at him. He makes you sit up as he grips your skull between his large hands. 

“You’re not going to do this. Not to my baby,” he snarls, “so get up, get dressed, and be a good girl, dove.” 

You pout and your eyes wet, “Steve, please--” 

“You keep this up, and I’ll have to go see how your sister’s doing...” he intones. “Living all alone, she must miss you.” 

“What?” You croak. 

“Someone has to keep an eye on her,” he says. 

“What do you mean?” You whine. 

“You really want me to say it?” He snarls. 

“No, why? Why? You know—I t-t-told you—Andy--” 

He shoves you back down, so hard your neck snaps back and you bite your tongue, “don’t say his fucking name to me. Don't even breathe him in the same sentence as me. I’m not like him and you know that, sweetie. Look how much I’ve helped you. How much I’ve actually helped you.”

He stands and kicks the bed. “I’m giving you a purpose. Something you never had before.” He scoffs and paces around as you rub your neck, “you were nothing before. No one wanted you, no one needed you.” 

“Stop, please. That’s mean--” 

“The truth hurts, baby,” he growls. “So let’s get the fuck up and go.” 

You sniffle and shakily push yourself up. Your heart races and the rampant beat pounds in your ears. You push yourself to the edge of the bed and the blankets slip away from your body. As you stand, his eyes flash at you. 

You’re still naked. They just leave you like that when they’re done. You cross the room but don’t make it to the dresser. He catches you by your arm and drags you back. 

“Not so fast,” he shoves you towards the bed. “Just to make sure,” he forces you onto the bed. “Open up, baby,” he climbs over you, pinning you as his hand creeps between your legs. 

You close your eyes again. You recede back into the shell hewn form years of self-hatred and fear. The cocoon that never let you free. You would never fly free and be a butterfly. You would only ever be this. A burden. Nothing. 

He ruts into you but you don’t feel it. You can’t. His intrusion doesn’t hurt anywhere as bad as the truth. And you can’t blame anyone but yourself. You chose this. 

🕊️

It happens all at once. One moment, you’re sitting there, watching Avery and Harper run in circles around the front room, and the next, you’re keeled over, hurling onto the carpet. You don’t think much of it. Most days, you feel sick. You don’t have an appetite but they make you eat. You still have scratches around your lips from Ann’s manicure. 

You stay bent over the carpet, panting. Avery squeals, “Moooom!” and Harper snickers and adds a draw out, “ewwwwwwwww”. 

You’re pushed back against the couch. You’re breathless and dizzy. You gulp down the bile and watch Ann grimace down at the puddle between your feet. She puts her hands on her hips. 

“Steve,” she rings out. 

Another shadow appears. The adults are quiet as the kids loom behind, “is she sick?” Avery asks. 

“Go. Take your brother to his room.” Ann snips. 

The girl retreats as if away from a lash. You stare up at them. Steve bends and picks you up off the couch. You refuse to set your feet so he carries you away. 

“I’m not cleaning this up,” Ann snarls. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, “did you check the calendar?” 

Footsteps follow him as you hang limp in his arms. He takes you into the bedroom, the dark cell where you languish between their grabbing hands, where you wallow in despair and defeat. He lays you down. 

“Makes sense,” Ann drones. “She’s about on track.” 

He hums and nods. “I’ll clean up. We need to be sure.” 

“I’ll need help,” she sniffs. “Just look at her.” 

You stare at the ceiling. The world fades behind the ring of light in your vision as the light bulbs sears into your retina. You close your eyes and everything moves around you as you stay still. 

It’s quiet when you rise from the depths. Out of the void of your own mind and the prison of your body. The lamp next to the bed is on and you’re wearing a shirt you’ve never seen before. There’s a faint scent of urine in the air. You’re all alone. 

Your stomach turns, mulching in on itself, but you ignore it. You just can’t be bothered. The swell of sickness chokes you and you just wallow it back down. Your body spasms with the effort. 

You roll onto your stomach and close your eyes. When you open them again, you’re spewing puke down the bed spread, watching it pool on the hardwood. You wipe your mouth with the back of your head and groan. 

An inch away is the bin from the bathroom. If you’d been awake, you might have been able to reach it. You stretch out your arm and drag it closer. There's a rattle in the bottom. 

You stare down at the white and blue plastic stick. Without fear, you grab it and bring it up to read the little window. Pregnant. That’s it. That's the end. You drop the test into your own puke and roll onto your other side. You dive back into the despondency of sleep. 

You’re woken again by an angry voice. Then a swat on the back of your head, “disgusting, aren’t you?” Ann chides.  

You can hear her scrubbing the floor as the smell of puke hangs in the air. Puke and piss. Filthy, like you. 

When the room is silent and still, you lay on your back. You’re still nauseous. Weak and tired. Everything is so much more intense than it’s ever been. 

The door opens. You don’t react. Steve calls your name and you still don’t answer. He drags you up the bed and makes you sit against the pillows, placed against the headboard. Then he puts the little folding table over your lap. The scent of food makes you grumble. 

“You have to eat,” he says. “It’s not just about you anymore, dove.” 

His timbre is harsh, hateful almost. He holds up the spoon and you stare it down. You keep your lips sealed. 

“Open your damn mouth or I’ll do it for you.” 

You wince and obey. You don’t understand why he changed. He used to be nice. He used to be patient and gentle. He said he was going to fix you. You take the mouthful of porridge and swallow without tasting. 

“You’re... a doctor,” you squeak. 

“Hmm?” He scoops up more of the oats. 

“You’re a doctor... you’re supposed to help me--” 

“I have helped,” he rams the spoon in your mouth again. “You think it would be any different with him? He wouldn’t want you the minute you got knocked up.” He stirs the bowl as he speaks, “but if you give us a healthy baby, we’ll keep you.” 

If. 

You open your mouth again. You stay quiet. You don’t like talking to him. Not anymore. It's always about the baby. It’s always spiteful. He hates you. 

“You get it?” He sneers. “You are carrying our child, that means you have to take care of yourself,” he grabs your hand and wraps it around the spoon, “you need to grow up.” He guides the spoon into the bowl with a clink. “Because if you don’t start taking care of my baby, then I will make sure you fucking suffer. I’ve lost too much already.” 

You whimper and he lets you go. You raise the spoon and lean forward to put the heap of steaming oats between your lips. His eyes are as icy as his words. You’re scared. You’re even more terrified of him than you ever were of Andy. 

“Good girl,” he says but it doesn’t make you feel good. Not anymore. 

You finish the whole bowl, and the fruit on the side, and the orange juice. He gathers up the tray and leaves you. You slump against the pillows and rub your stomach, trying to calm the storm inside. 

It’s more than the latent tide of nausea that makes you restless. You’re head pounds. You can’t even close your eyes. If you sleep any longer, your skull might just split. Your body is achy and your heart feels as if its always racing. You sit up and look around the room. 

Nine months. You know that’s how long it takes. You’ll have less than that by now. You’re not sure how long it would be. 

You turn and shimmy to the edge of the bed. You slide open the night table drawer and take out your journal. You search through the pages. Steve told you to right down your cycle... 

Hm, you can’t figure it out. Probably two months? Maybe less? It doesn't feel like that long.

You put the journal back and your knuckles brush on the smooth cover of your tablet. You pause and lean forward to look into the drawer. You stopped using it because you didn’t want to be reminded of Andy. You couldn’t draw because your hand wouldn’t listen to your brain. 

You glance at the door then take out the tablet. You push back into bed and put your knees up, draping the blankets over them so if anyone walks in, you can hide the screen. You press the button on the side. It takes a moment but it lights up. 

You wait until the homescreen appears. Thirty percent. You can’t remember where the charger went. 

You pull down the notifications. There are a lot. Automatic alerts from the camera at Andy’s house, messages from a strange account that can only be him, and several app updates. 

You swipe them all away. You flick over the menu, back and forth, back and forth. You tap on Insta and wait for it to load. Your last post was a year ago; a drawing of a dove... 

You go to your followers. You don’t have many but you’re only looking for one. You tap Amber’s picture. Her profile opens and your fingers twitch in surprise. Your fingertip taps the little heart and it blooms red. You quickly press again to undo the like. 

Her last post is from a week ago. It’s her and a man. He doesn’t seem to want to be on camera as she kisses his cheek. Oh. You can’t bother her. She’s moved on. She’s happy and you’re going to ruin her life all over again. You’re not her responsibility. 

Your eyes fill with tears as you stare at her picture. A red dot appears at the bottom over the chat icon. It blinks as several messages flow in. It's Amber. 

‘Hey!’ 

‘Are u there?’ 

‘Says ur online. Pls answer me.’ 

You watch her messages pop up. Your lip trembles. What can you do? What can you say? You wipe your tears and snivel. Hey, sis, got myself knocked up and now I’m scared. No, that’s not it. 

You hover your hands over the keyboard and steady them. You blow out between your lips and sort out the words in your head. You tap the letters slowly, taking your time. 

‘I just want to say goodbye. I’m sorry for all the pain I caused. I’m glad to see that you’re happy. Love you.’ 

You read and reread. Over and over. Then you make yourself send it. You don’t wait for her response. What she says, doesn’t matter. She’s free from you. She doesn’t need to worry. You’re not worried either. This is just how it is.  

[blackwood4stucky]

in his house beneath the sea, he waits dreaming of you | aspen blackwood

series: bleak are the heavens, darker the gods

lloyd hansen x steve kemp | complete

tags: ancient greece, body horror, ritual magic, witchcraft

In a small Grecian village where the witches serve a morning star, there lives a man named Stéfanos who catches the eye of a peculiar stranger.

——————.·:·.☽✧ ☆ﾟ ✦  ☆ﾟ ✧☾.·:·. ——————

ch 1: of all the sinners, you're first in line is available now!

read: ao3 and ffn

[imwall-e]

Reader and them. Soon ? 👀

[extremelyblackandwhite]

WAIT WAIt!!! Billy asking Steve for Daisys hand?

pairing: steve kemp x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ topics (under 18 year olds do NOT interact/reader), mentions of miscarriage

a/n: steve and the kemps are back. requests are back on!

part of toxic

        - I don’t know, darling. - Y/N fixed her hair in front of the mirror, her left hand holding a golden crimson lipstick bullet. - He said he wanted to speak to you tonight. 

       - Why would I subject myself to speaking to William alone? I barely like speaking to him when Daisy’s around. Speaking of whom, why is she not coming? 

       - Daisy’s unpacking the stuff at their new place. She’s 24, Steve. She can go a week without seeing mum and dad. - she crossed her arms. - Besides should I remind you of your other children?

       - What other children? Rose’s in Los Angeles and you know how I feel about that, the triplets are scattered around various universities and my boys are grown. 

       - Aaron is grown and he won’t go to bed if you don’t check the room for monsters. What are you talking about? 

       - I miss my girls and I was expecting Daisy to at least come with her disappointing boyfriend. - he sat on the bed staring at his wife. - We need a new baby. 

       - Don’t change the subject. - she sat next to him, holding his hand. - You should be proud. Our girls are doing so well and they’re very well rounded considering they have you for a dad. 

       - I wanna see my girl not her knucklehead boyfriend. - he rolled his eyes as he heard the bell ring.

No matter how long Daisy’s boyfriend had stuck around, Steve never fully came around him. He put up with him for the past seven years, even when Daisy begged for him to come along for family vacation, Steve still didn’t like him. Y/N had naively thought that after a while he’d come around to Daisy having a boyfriend, specially when they started living together on their second year of university. However, it seemed that no matter how hard the poor boy tried, Steve just did not enjoy his existence. He opened the door to see his worse enemy - his words - standing in front of him with flowers and a bottle of wine. 

       - Dr. Kemp. - he cleared his throat.

       - William. 

       - I got these for your wife. - he extended the flowers and the wine. - I don’t expect to be here for much longer. I have to go back and help Daisy. 

       - Where’s she?

       - She’s at home. She doesn’t know I’m here, I wanted to speak with you alone.

       - How nice. - he smiled tightly. 

       - Dr. Kemp, I wanna marry Daisy. I’m gonna ask Daisy to marry me tomorrow night and I am here asking for your blessing.

Steve’s mouth couldn’t have gone more agape and Y/N swore that if it hadn’t been for the fact that he didn’t want to appear weak in front of his daughter’s boyfriend, he’d probably fainted from the mere shock. In his eyes, Daisy was still his little girl begging him to buy any and every single ducky plushie she found when grocery shopping. Now, here was this boy asking for her hand in marriage. His little girl. She was too young to get married? Right? 

       - Billy, why don’t you come in? - Y/N opened the door, motioned with her head towards the living room. - I’m making some tea. Do you want some tea?

       - Can I have some whiskey? - Steve mumbled, still somewhat shocked. - Bring the whole bottle. 

       - Sure. - she kissed the top of his head before leaving the two of them in the living room. Hopefully, he wouldn’t kill the poor boy. 

       - I have bought the ring and I have the reservation. I am gonna propose to her because I love her very much. She’s the love of my life, she’s been the love of my life since I first spoke to her. Honestly, I know you don’t like me and I don’t like your very much either but Daisy adores you and it would make her very happy if you gave your blessing. I am here asking for it but I don’t need it. 

       - That’s ... - he swallowed in empty. - That’s bold of you to say, William.

       - I’m gonna marry her if she accepts and I don’t want to create a wedge between her and you because you refuse to accept or wedding invitation. I know how important it is for her to have your approval. 

        - You’re awfully confident that she’s going to accept. 

        - We’ve discussed marriage before and children and partnership. We have the same life goals and I have a stable job lined up. Both our names are on the apartment lease if anything happened and I ... I just really want your blessing, Dr. Kemp. You can hate me all you want but I love Daisy. I wanna make her happy.

        - Can you give me a second? 

He exited the living room, finding his wife not so secretly listening in to the conversation. Yet again, if she wanted she could always listen to the security cameras. She gave him an unreadable look, one which he couldn’t decipher even after 25 years of marriage. It was always a mix of both sincereness and threat - something he believed only his dear wife could pull so effortlessly. 

      - Steve. 

      - I have to say yes, don’t I?

      - I don’t think he’s asking, darling. I think he’s saying he wants your blessing because of Daisy. You know ... the daughter we love so much?

      - It’s just ... remember when all she wanted and made her happy was to have duck stuff and be with us? What happened?

      - She grew up. - she cupped his face. - They all do, eventually. All we can do now is make sure she’s happy with someone who’d do everything to make her happy. I know you don’t like Billy, but he loves Daisy. You love Daisy. Can that be your common ground? 

      - Fine. - he sighed, turning back around.

He knew she was right, of course she was right, and even though he disliked and would dislike every single person one of his babies brought home - William wasn’t the worse of them. He was brash but he loved Daisy. Steve just didn’t want to let go, not yet, so he just stared at the photos in the wall for a bit. Her first day of kindergarten, the first Halloween, graduation day. 

      - William, you have my blessing.

      - Really?

      - Yes, really. Now go, before I change my mind. - he pointed at the door. 

      - Thank you. It’s means a lot to me and Daisy. 

      - This better not be a shotgun wedding. 

      - It’s not.

      - If I found out you impregnated my child and this is a shotgun wedding, I will haunt you myself with a shotgun. 

      - Regular wedding, no babies. 

      - And tell Daisy to come visit me before I die. 

      - Will do, Dr. Kemp. 

He sighed once more as the door shut, only being comforted by his wife who wrapped his arms around him. 

      - Do you want that bottle of whiskey now?

      - Yes, please.