#dark steve kemp

[shadeysprings]

YOU

—Art Collector!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Summary — Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.

Warnings — oral (female receiving), dismembered bodies, disrespect to the dead, entrapment, plots of killing, serial killer vibes, Steve being a calm psycho. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 5.4K

A/N — Story #1 for my FREAKtober Fest. The fic was heavily inspired by the movie itself and House of Wax. I'm happy to finally explore Steve's character in writing and I must say, I enjoyed every bit of it. The title was taken from the song You.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

Shout out to @vellicore and @sgt-seabass for bouncing ideas with me and being my beta.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

They didn’t come.

It was all you could think about as almost 2 hours had passed since your grad show started. Despite your parents’ — mostly your mom’s — disapproval of pursuing an arts program, you still invited them to the show. You hoped that if they saw what you were truly doing, they would understand your passion for paints and charcoal.

But it was a long shot, and you knew that. Though at least you tried…right?

You envy your classmates who carry bouquets while they present their artwork to their families and strangers alike. You were lucky enough to have a few come by your cubicle, delighted to explain the medium and process of your work. Some seemed genuinely intrigued while others, you can tell, only came by and endured your talk for the free stickers you offered at the end of your spiels.

Another hour passes by and you look up front when you hear an announcement being made by your instructor; a class photo. You’re reluctant to join, seeing no value in such a thing to be done as it’s obvious that once the day ends, they will be strangers once again. But another adamant call from your instructor has you heading to the front, a frown forming on your face when you’re pushed at the back, towered by your classmates—unseen once more. 

As parents and several others grab the opportunity to take a photo, your eyes suddenly divert back to your cubicle when you see someone looking over at your main art piece. You can’t put a pin on his face but you know you’ve seen him before. 

Once the group photo has ended, you immediately head back to your spot, catching the familiar stranger taking one of your stickers as well as a business card that sits beside it. It’s when you finally recognize him—and you’re in utter shock that he would be looking at your work. He finally notices you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand. 

“Hi.” He begins, “I’m—”

“You’re Steve Kemp.” You finish for him, the confidence you suddenly displayed startling the both of you. But you push on when you see a smile of amusement on his face, taking his hand to shake. “You’re the famous art collector.” You wouldn’t have known it was him with how dressed down he looked with the corduroy jacket and navy jeans, but you’ve seen his face several times in art articles that you wouldn’t miss it.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.” He humbles himself but he lacks the conviction to make it believable. “I think I’m just skilled in finding pretty things—like this one.” He gestures towards your charcoal painting, the look of interest evident on his face. “What compelled you to incorporate a whale and an astronaut? What’s the story behind it?”

His question makes you smile. Maybe he is interested, you think to yourself and look towards your artwork before diving deep into your answer. 

“The artwork was inspired by the 52 Hertz Whale.” You begin. “Just to give you a little background; out of all the whale species, it’s the only one that makes a call with such a distinct pitch. Researchers had guessed that it could be a hybrid of two whale species but any attempts to search for the creature for further study have failed. Though some have been saying that it’s not a whale but an entirely different animal.

“Loneliness was the main theme of the piece—just like the whale, if it truly exists, it is alone in the vast sea; with no family to call its own and with it being different from the others, no one would listen or understand their cries. Akin to the lonely astronaut floating in the endless void of space. Though the flowers and the seagull represent hope and freedom—that one day, everything they thought to be true would change, that someone is there to listen and welcome them in their arms.”

You feel yourself shiver and your heart race as you end your interpretation. How the art piece truly mirrors your life and your cry for recognition from the people who truly matter. You try your best not to shed the tears that well in your eyes, presenting the collector with a smile and hoping he sees it as passion and confidence. 

But the look on his face startles you; there’s no judgment but you see a hint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. You think he’s about to say something, to comment on what you said, instead, he looks back at the artwork, seemingly appraising it. 

“How much?” The question stuns you. Did you hear correctly?

“I’m sorry?” 

“I want to buy your art piece.” He expounds. “How much are you selling it for?”

That’s the last thing you expected to be asked in a college grad show. Was he seriously wanting to purchase it? You try to answer, to tell him that you’re not really looking for buyers nor expecting to sell any of your work but no words come out of your mouth, still taken aback by his surprising inquiry.

“I don’t—” You stutter. “I’m not really—”

The chuckle he makes has you pulling on the cuffs of your oversized flannel, feeling slightly anxious at the thought that he’s making fun of your state of shock. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says with a smile, one that you mimic if only to ease the tension building within you. “But I am serious. I do want to buy it.”

Still, you don’t know what to say. Do you just give him an amount and call it a day?

“Why don’t you sit on it? Let’s say two days and I can give you a call for your price.” He holds up your business card between two fingers, the smile on his face turning into a playful smirk. “What do you say?”

Under-dressed.

Not that it was a concern you realistically should have but the patrons of the bar made you feel as such with the men clad in suit jackets and the women, either in dresses or whatever you call the style of attire that was classier than your hoodie-jeans-sneakers combo. At least you brought a coat—that’s fancy enough, right?

You nurse your Bellini cocktail and thumb through your phone while waiting for Steve, popping your conversation thread with him every second or two just to assure yourself that he confirmed, or rather, planned the night of drinks to discuss your “Lonely Whale” piece as he coined it. It seemed odd at first but his determination was what compelled you to agree to meet him. 

The hiss of the straw fills your ears as you suck the last dregs of your drink. You shouldn’t have come early, you tell yourself, then you wouldn’t need to order another glass to accompany you on your wait. 

“Need a top-up?” A familiar voice from behind startles you and you look up to see Steve, decorated in a maroon wool sweater and that tantalizing smile he seems to always have. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad coming here to this part of town.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the booth. 

You scoot over to give him room, surprised that he didn’t take the one across from you. “Please, don’t be sorry. I wasn’t waiting long.” You assure him with a soft smile, tapping a finger on the rim of your glass. “The drink kept me company.”

“Are they any good?” He asks but he’s already called the attention of a server before you can even reply. He orders a Bloody Mary—quite peculiar, you think, but you’re not one to judge someone's preference. “And the lady will have another, please.” 

Silence envelops the both of you as you wait for the drinks to arrive, feeling shy and anxious when he rests his arm against the back of the booth and turns in his seat to face you. You’re not used to being seen yet here’s this man, well-known in the field you didn’t think to excel in giving you such unwarranted attention. 

“Uhmm, so I asked my instructor about the painting,” you begin as you try to break the ice, “and he said that—” but stop when he shakes his head and lets out a gentle laugh. 

You think he’s playing at your lack of knowledge of these types of transactions that it makes you second-guess your words. Maybe you should have come off more confident and prevented showing him an inkling of your cluelessness. But the smile he sends your way speaks of something different. There is no presence of ill-intent yet you still keep your guard up. 

“We can talk business later. I’d like to get to know the artist more first.” He says and for some reason, it could be how comfortable he seems to be around you, that you nod at his request, a soft smile forming on your lips. 

“Well, what do you want to know?”

Giggling. 

It’s been a while since you’ve done it but you guess after 4 glasses of the Bellini and a sip of his Bloody Mary, anyone would be in a lighter and more carefree mood. Just like how you are. 

The anxiety that filled you when you first walked into the bar seems non-existent with how well Steve carries a conversation. He listened to you complain and laughed at your sarcastic comments, throwing back another to keep the exchange alive. There was no dull moment to be recorded, only understanding when you shared the struggle of an art student living in a fast-paced environment. He’s probably the first person in your life who knows almost everything there is to know about you and even if he is a total stranger, he feels more familiar than any other. 

The night rolls by quicker than you’d hoped and the next thing you know you’re in his car, the alcohol messing with you as you begin belting out garbled lyrics to an Adele song. You’ve never felt so free and relaxed, and who would have thought you’d find it in someone who simply wants to buy your art project? 

You arrive shortly at your apartment building, a curious thought passing through your head as you don’t recall typing in your address in the GPS. But it goes just as quickly as it came when the passenger door is opened and Steve holds out a hand to help you out. 

He says your name, the syllables rolling like honey on his tongue and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the moon shines against his face, but you truly notice how his sapphire eyes glow brighter with how close he stands to you, his cologne permeating your senses and his warmth mixing with yours, keeping away the cold autumn breeze of the night that surrounds the both of you. 

“I had a lovely evening.” He breathes, allowing him to take your hand in his. “And I don’t want it to end just yet.”

And it doesn’t. 

You invite Steve into your apartment for coffee, something to help completely sober him up and drive home safe. But as soon as you close the door and toe off your shoes, his hands are on your face and his lips capture yours, a soft grunt escaping you when he presses you against the door. You’re too stunned to process that he’s kissing you, only finally realizing it when he breaks the kiss and looks at you with his eyes so blue. 

You think he’s about to speak, to apologize for his forwardness, but instead he smiles while his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. You don’t understand what he sees in you to warrant such soft affection, or to even consider you as someone to kiss. 

He leans closer once more, this time you sense the apprehension in his movements and with the way his eyes linger on your face. You shut your brain off completely, not wanting reason and rationality to stop whatever force that was pulling you together. So you meet him halfway, hands resting against his chest when you press your lips against his, a moan escaping you as when you feel him pull you further into the kiss. 

To say he was a good kisser was an understatement with the way his wet muscle caressed your own and how his lips wrestle you into a passionate exchange. He chuckles when he bumps against a side table while walking backwards, blindly into the living room, hands pawing at each other, groping, touching, and you lift up his sweater as the desire to feel his skin blooms in your head. 

But he doesn’t give you that chance as you drop back onto your loveseat couch, Steve’s hands pushing up your hoodie to expose the tank top hidden within. His fingers tickle your skin, teasing, taunting, and in one swift move he pulls down the cups of your bra having your tits spill out from them. 

Mewls and moans are the only sounds that leave your lips, coherent words nonexistent with how his lips wrap around a mound, sucking, licking, and dampening the fabric to expose your stiff nipples which he gives his undivided attention to. You try to reach for him, to at least make sure that this is all real and not a dream, but his hands take yours, preventing you from even running your finger through his dark hair, the act only heightening your senses further. 

But his venture to your breasts eventually stops and you look down at him when he trails butterfly kisses against your stomach, hands releasing yours only to undo the button and fly of your jeans. The garment flies but your panties stay, and you swear you could almost combust just from the way he looks at you—his eyes swirling with hunger, eagerness, and desperation for a taste. 

Slowly, he trails kisses against your inner thighs, lips, and teeth meeting skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel. The nervousness swirls around you like twine, making your heart beat loudly against your chest as everything feels too new, too alien, despite this no longer being your first. But you’ve never encountered anyone as captivating as Steve and you feel as if he would run away once he sees you completely. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers into the air, his warm breath grazing against your heated core. 

It’s only then you comprehend what he’s done, your panties pushed to the side to expose you completely before him and all at once you feel your body burn when he laves his tongue against your pussy lips, gentle at first, testing the waters which shift to intent as he pushes them apart with his fingers, your sacred bud caressed by his expert tongue. 

You whisper his name as he begins delving into your pussy, strong hands keeping your thighs apart and pushing them down against the couch with his groans of pleasure filling your ears and fueling your desire for him. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair which you end up grabbing as a gasp is pulled from your lungs when he begins to suck your clit. 

The room feels like it's spinning with the ecstasy that climbs higher within your body, your senses no longer feeling like your own as Steve pushes on with his pursuit, his mouth dancing beautifully against your clit, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. But he stops, and a small wave of panic arises in your chest. Though it washes away like footprints on the sand when he ventures lower, his thumb taking purchase of your clit, rolling and adding pressure while his mouth ventures lower, teasing your slit at first before slowly pushing inside. 

Oh, how your body sings. Your back arches from the coach and you call out his name, louder this time, turning into a moaning mess as his regard to your cunt never wavers. You then feel the dam filling up at the pit of your stomach and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, encouraging—no—pushing him to pull you over the edge. 

“Steve—” It’s all you manage to say, your breath catching in your throat. 

His actions then become erratic, as if he can feel you teetering towards your peak, pulling you more to his mouth and devouring you whole. Sloppy, wet sounds of his mouth echo from below your waist, Steve letting out a low and guttural growl which only sets you ablaze. His thumb pushes more onto your clit, the pressure digging into your pelvis and finally having the dam at the pit of your abdomen burst.

Your body shakes and you grab onto Steve as your pussy walls flutter from your release, choking a sob as your sweet essence flows out of you. His awaiting mouth then laps each and every drop you offer, the sensation making you shiver yet at the same time cocoons you in euphoric bliss. 

The alcohol in your system then appears, mixing with the pleasure that continues to loom around you, and your eyes begin to droop, a smile forming on your lips. Your limbs ache deliciously, cunt buzzing from the orgasm that has taken over. You feel tired all of a sudden but happy at the same time and you forget all, even Steve, as you’re ready to end the night with such a good note. 

But a tap on your thigh pulls you from the serene moment, startling slightly to see Steve looking down at you with a grin painted on his face. “Stay awake, Baby.” He says, his hand running up your side and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “I’m not yet done with you.”

Nervous.

It’s all you feel as you stand outside of Steve’s home—if you could even call it that. With the modern exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows of the one-story home, you’d think you’re about to enter a museum. But it’s only reasonable for him to have such a lavish abode; he is an art collector after all. 

“You okay?” You turn your head to the side to face him when he stands beside you, his warmth brushing against your skin as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“A bit—but more excited really.” You tell him, the giddiness of seeing his private collection dominating the restlessness you felt earlier. 

“Only the people who matter have seen it.” The smile he gives you is so contagious that you give one back and follow him inside his home.

After the night spent at your apartment, your life slowly revolved around Steve. Mornings begin and nights end with him and his attentiveness—one that you found more endearing than suffocating, as what some people you assume would say if they knew of your relationship. 

You don’t even know if you both have a relationship as neither of you discussed anything about labels, simply enjoying each other’s company. But you know that Steve has rooted himself deep in you, and you know that no matter how hard you try if anything comes that would sever you both, you’d have a hard time letting him go. Steve is the only one who has truly seen you and accepted you as you are.

A chill brushes your skin when you pass through the threshold of his home which has you pulling your knitted jacket more around your frame for warmth, and the first thing you see are the gallery lights mounted on the wall, with each one shining down on art pieces of different forms. The ones that stand by the door are wax figures of a woman’s pair of legs, one on each side. You look at it closely, the craftsmanship so intricate that you’d think it was real. The ones that come after it are different sets of arms and hands of women, again, each one posed differently and elegantly, as if welcoming you further down the hall.

It gives you pause with how unusual of a collection it is—women’s body parts—but you suppose that the world of art is filled with oddities. There was even one you heard who collects glass eyeballs, not caring if it was worn or not.

What greets you next are several paintings—if you can even call it as such—that litter the wall just the same, though you’ve never seen anything like it; one is of a canvas that houses different strands of hair that form into waves. You’re in awe with how they mimic the raging seas and how detailed and time consuming it must have been to complete. There’s even an image of a boat topped over it, as you inspect closely, you assume is made of leather. 

There’s another like it, though this seemed more like a showcase of all types of tresses, spaced out perfectly in rows of five. Each one portrayed a distinct person, with colors ranging from blonde to black and textures from curly to the straightest you’ve seen. The urge to touch it grows strong, wanting to check if they’re real or not.

“They’re real,” Steve answers your unspoken question, and you turn back to face him, feeling shy all of a sudden when you see him staring at you. “I call it live art.”

“You made this?”

“Oh, no.” He smiles as he nears the artwork, Steve’s hands tucked inside his pockets while he looks up at it. “I had it made. Though I did provide the materials—volunteers donated the hair.” His explanation has you thinking; you never knew people would donate something so personal for art. “I’m hoping to add more to the collection—a prized one that can be my center of attention.” He says and you catch him looking at you from your periphery. 

“What kind of prized piece?” You ask, curiosity nipping at the back of your head. 

“Something I could never get tired of looking at.” The smile he gives you sends a chill up your spine but your mind flows out into a daze when he steps forward and takes your face between his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. “Like you.” He whispers and you can’t help but feel your face heat up with how beautiful he makes you feel. 

“Come on. There’s more in the living room and I wanted to show you where I would place your painting.” He says, giving you one last kiss before taking your hand and leading further inside. But you don’t miss the piece that sits just at the end of the hall; a torso of a woman, the composition almost similar to Alexndros’ Venus de Milo, except this one was missing its head. 

The living room is a sunken living room and it’s just as exquisite as the front of the house with paintings and figurines scattered in an organized fashion. Two couches sit on either side of a low table with a small cart that holds an array of spirits. You look around, mesmerized at the beauty he keeps within but stop when you notice a small greek style column sitting in the corner of the room. 

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the unusual fixture. 

“That’s just a chair a friend of mine made.” He responds while pouring the both of you some drinks. “It’s pretty cozy even if it’s made out of stone. Why don’t you try it out? Pretend you’re an art piece.” He urges and the giddiness you feel allows you to humor him. 

Soft jazz music then begins to play as you run your hand against the top, having a feel of the material before you take a seat, grabbing onto the sides to properly set yourself on top of it. The smile you catch on Steve’s face is wide as he approaches you and hands you your drink, his hand reaching up to caress your face. 

“You look perfect on it.” He sips on his drink and so do you. 

You can’t help but look at his eyes, how soft they look yet full of amidst the muted lighting that surrounds the both of you. You feel his hands continue to linger on your skin, resting gently on your shoulder with his thumb caressing the expanse of your neck. 

“Dance with me.” 

It’s all he says and you don’t have time to respond when he takes the glass from your grasp, setting both of them on the shelf that stands nearby and he reaches for you, his hands taking yours and placing them over his shoulders while his own finds purchase around your waist.

It feels like you’re walking on clouds with how he sways the both of you, his movements in sync with the music that fills the air. He holds you close, feeling his fingers drumming lightly on your back and how your feet follow him aimlessly, blindly with each step he makes. You’re suddenly aware of the intimacy that slowly winds the both of you, much different from the times he’s slept on your bed, and you feel shy, eyes casting down to stare at the edge of his navy turtleneck.

“Don’t hide from me, Baby,” He breathes softly, tilting your head back when he pinches your chin and feeling the warmth of his breath ghost against your lips. “I want to see you.”

Giddy.

It’s the only feeling you describe as soon as you wake up, your body sore but in a good way and the sheets atop the mattress warm, not just because of you but from the man that sleeps soundly at your side. You turn to face Steve and examine his face, his beautiful pointed nose and his dark hair askew from the pillow underneath his head. 

You couldn’t believe your luck that someone like him would find interest in someone like you. You must have done something good in your previous life to feel such happiness that the neglect and disapproval you once received from the people you expected to love you is being provided by someone you’ve barely known for a week. 

Good things come to an end, you hear the pessimist in you say but you push it down, deep down where you cannot hear its cry. You’re going to enjoy this, whatever this is, and if time comes that it should indeed come to a stop—well, you’ll cross the bridge when you get there. 

You move to cuddle closer to Steve, wanting to feel more of his warmth but it’s interrupted by your need for relief that you settle on placing a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the bed and find the restroom.

Washing your hands when you finish, you find a robe hanging at the back of the door and boldly take it, putting it around you to shield you from the cold that continues to circulate within the house and venture back to his room—back to Steve’s arms. Except the lone light that shines in the darkness catches your eyes and you glance towards the bedroom. You don’t want to be caught snooping but the call of the void is too strong for you to ignore. 

Silently, you pad down the hall and find yourself face to face with a staircase that leads to a closed door. Must be the basement, you think to yourself, taking one step at a time, you descend to your destination. You hesitate to hold the knob, not wanting to spoil your welcome but you soldier on, pushing through the barrier. 

A row of yellow muted light illuminates the entryway, and you see nothing but several black barrels neatly pushed against the wall and a few scrubs hanging from mounted hooks. You thought you would see more artwork but are left disappointed, deciding to turn back but the white light at the end of the room stops you, curiosity once more taking over your senses.

Fear then grips you tight when you step into the light, hands flying to your mouth and a gasp unwillingly escaping you when you see a woman laid down on a metal table with her lower half missing and her head free of her scalp. What hangs on the wall makes your stomach turn even further, body parts—arms, legs and a severed head coated in something you can only assume to be wax.

You run. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you make it back again to the door and close it as quietly as you can, not wanting to awaken your host—a monster you never thought him to be. Carefully, though quickly, you climb the steps and the only thing you could think of is to leave and run as far as you can where he cannot find you. 

Relief slowly washes over you when you get to the last step. Now all you have to do is go—call the authorities and—your thoughts take a dive when you feel someone grab you by the waist, trapping your arms along with it and a hand covering over your mouth as well as your nose.

“Where were you, Baby?” Steve’s calm voice forms from behind and your panic only rises further. You struggle against his hold, flailing as much as you can for him to let you go but he’s too strong and you feel the tears spill from your eyes as you think that this is the end. He’s caught you. You’re going to die. 

“You never should have seen that.” He simply says and you grunt when a stabbing pain forms on your neck, a cool sensation flowing through your veins. 

It’s then that he lets you go, your hand flying to where you felt the sting before turning to look at him. What did he do to you? You notice the syringe in his hand. Is it poison? Your vision almost instantly goes blurry, your limbs heavy and you drop to the floor, eyes cast to the ceiling as you try to make out your current state. The last thing you see is Steve, a sinister smile on his face and incoherent words coming from his lips before everything goes dark. 

You’re dead.

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you come to. Everything slowly comes into clarity; the room you’re in is somewhere you’ve not been and the cool metal you feel around your ankle only solidifies the fact that he’s successfully trapped you in the hell he dwells in.

A door opens and closes and you curl up small on the bed you lay in to hide yourself from him. You’re crying once again a multitude of emotions surge from within—is it fear? Hopelessness? Anger? Towards him for lying to you or to yourself for believing him. 

“I never wanted you to find out this way.” He sighs. “I never wanted you to find out at all.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You can’t help but ask, even though you know what the answer is.

“Not yet.” His calm in his voice brings a chill to your spine. “Despite what you believe, I meant what I said; you matter to—”

“Stop lying to me!” You shout and sit up from the bed, grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why me?!” You shout, the anger that was settling in your bones turns into a raging fire. You go to lunge for him, wanting to rip his skin with your bare hands but the cuff on your foot stops you, making you fall to the ground in front of him. 

He tuts and you see his leather shoes in front of you. A groan then leaves your tongue when he grabs you by your face, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you try to pull away from him. But he only pinches tighter, making you shout in pain that fades all too quickly when he shakes you and makes you face him dead in the eyes.

“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.” He snips. “I enjoy you a lot—don’t make me kill you so soon.”

“Just fucking do it!” You spit. “Do it! Kill me now!”

The laugh he gives you is menacing. He shakes his head, his other hand moving to run his finger on the side of your face. You see the darkness swirling around the sapphires of his eyes and you question yourself why, for the many times he’s stared at you, you’ve never seen it before. 

“Soon.” He promises. “For now, I’ll keep you. I don’t mind that column being empty just a little longer.”

#steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x f!reader #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #you #fresh #fresh the movie #sebastian stan characters #dark fic #horror fic #beanie's freaktober fest #freaktober fest #shadeysprings fics

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 45

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

Note: took a while.

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. 💖

When Ann leaves, you don’t move. You can’t. The ceiling light shines down on you, glimmering with your tears as they tremble along your eyelids. 

Naked and used, you melt into the mattress, a part of it, a thing just like it. You don’t know how long you stay like that. The white ceiling turns your vision spotty as your eyes go out of focus. No sounds can reach you as your ears close to the world. Your existence is empty. You are the toy Ann claimed you as. 

Your eyes close out of sheer exhaustion. Your head thumps with the shallow sleep that falls upon you. It’s less than restful, more an unfeeling trance, as you stay torturously chained to your reality. 

There’s a creak and a click. You feel a shift and something warm touches your arm. A rustle sends a shiver across your body and warmth settles over you. Your eyes roll open as a figure sits at the edge of the bed. You wince as Steve’s large hand closes around your shoulder. He squeezes as he gazes down at you. 

“You need anything, sweetie?” He asks softly. 

You don’t answer. You just blink. He exhales and lets you go as he stands. He turns on the lamp and retreats to shut off the overhead light. He returns to you as a hazy shadow. 

He lowers himself again, the bed dipping beneath him. You struggle to move your stiff arms, hugging yourself beneath the blanket as your teeth chatter. He tickles along your forehead and hums. 

“I’m sorry about Ann,” he says, “she shouldn’t have said all that.” 

You stare up at him. It’s okay. Is it? You don’t know. 

“I... you know you’re more to me than that, right?” He pets your cheek. His touch doesn’t make your skin crawl like Ann’s. His body heat melds into you, enshrining you. You can’t help but lean into his hand. “You liked it, didn’t you? You wanted it? I felt you. I felt how much you liked it.” 

You lower your lashes and wiggle your nose. You nod. Even then, a flicker of the thrill rises in you at the though of him inside of you. It wasn’t bad at all. Scary but not bad. Not compared to Andy. 

“I shouldn’t have run away like that, honey--” 

You flinch and grab his hand. You latch on tightly and shake your head, “don’t... don’t call me honey.” 

His cheeks dimple and his eyes brows slant. His expression softens and he nods, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s okay,” you croak, clinging to his hand as you feel his thick fingers. He’s so much bigger than you but it doesn’t scare you. 

“I meant to stay. I wanted to. To hold you but I... Ann can be a lot, can’t she?” 

Your eyes round and you clamp your lips shut. You don’t say a word. He curls his fingers around the tips of yours. 

“Did she hurt you?” He rasps. 

You look at him. He’s so handsome. Just as handsome as always. 

“A little,” you murmur. 

His face falls and he dips his head down. He lets out a long breath, “I won’t let her do that again.” 

“Okay,” your eyes wander over to watch his hand. The way he holds onto you makes your insides dance. 

“Sweetie,” he intones, “can I.... can I hold you now?” 

Your gaze flits back to him. You quiver as you bob your head up and down, “please.” 

A soft smile curls his lips. He shifts carefully and reluctantly untangles his hand from yours. He lifts the edge of the blanket as he angles his body straight, parallel to yours. He wears only a pair of boxers and a dark red tee. 

As he rests on his shoulder, he leans back to the lamp and flicks the switch. The room darkens as he rolls back to you. He slides his arm beneath you, jostling you just a little. He presses flush to your side and rests his other hand on your stomach. 

“How’s that, sweetie?” 

You shiver and turn onto your side. You loop your arm around him and nestle your head against his chest. You wiggle closer, desperately holding onto him as you close your eyes.  

“I like it,” you inhale his scent, the faint medley of cologne and his sweat. 

“I like it too,” he runs his hand up and down your back.  

You press your hand to his back, “next time... can it just be us?” 

He’s quiet. You can hear his heart beat and your own. His hand crawls up to pet your head. 

“Sure, sweetie, we can figure it out.” 

🕊️

You’re awaken as Steve lets in a flow of cold air. Your arm slips limply onto the bed as he stands in the pale dim, the curtains lit by early morning. You murmur and rub your sleepy eyes as you sit up. 

“Sweetie,” he reaches to tug the blanket up your torso, “you should cover up.” 

You hug the blanket in embarrassment and keep it above your chest. He pushes his hair back and sniffs, inhaling deeply before huffing it out. You shimmy to the edge of the bed as he backs away. 

“Steve?” You babble dumbly. 

“Gotta get breakfast for the kids,” he keeps his voice low. He stops near the foot of the bed, “you should stay in here. I’ll bring you some.” 

“Oh?” You utter. 

“You had a long night,” he says, “and they’re loud in the mornings. Once Ann takes them off to school, we can... we can be together.” 

You hang your head, “okay.” 

“Promise,” he avows, “you need to sleep, huh?” 

You nod and lay back down. He clears his throat and you listen to his footfalls retreat to the door. He opens and shuts it softly. You curl up on your side and watch the shadows that line the baseboards. 

You just need to wait. That’s all. He’ll be back and then you can be together. Just you two. 

Your breath catches as the night before flood into your mind. Ann’s dusky voice tickles up the shell of your ear and her words make you shrink. The way she spoke, not just what she said, it made you feel so small, like nothing. To her, you were just a thing to be used and that’s what she did. 

You close your eyes and pull the blanket tight. You think of Steve and the warmth of him chases away the icy memories. You remember how his cheeks were slightly rosy and the way he felt buried in you. You made him like that. You made him grunt and groan and then he... finished. Inside of you. 

You reach down between your legs and delve your fingers between your folds. You bite your lip and hum. You press your fingers against your clit as it thrums and clamp your hand between your thighs. You keep it there as your body relaxes. Thoughts of Steve coax you back into a half-sleep. 

Between fantasies of his hands and his chest and his smile, you hear voices. Some chirpy, some even, all muffled on the other side of the walls and your subconscious. You sway on the tide of your fatigue, letting it carry you away from the turmoil storming at the back of your mind. 

When you’re next awoken, it’s Steve. As promised, he has breakfast. He sets a plate on the night table and pulls open the curtains tot let in the day. You sit up and the blanket once more unveils your nakedness. It doesn’t bother you like it used to. 

“Sweetie,” he sighs. 

He goes around the bed and finds your duffle on the chair. He takes out one of your shirts and brings it to you. You look down meekly and pull it on. 

“Hope you like pancakes,” he says as he sits on the edge of the bed and takes the plate. He puts it in your lap as you grip it by the edges. You look down at the little flapjacks stamped with the image of a cartoon dog. It makes you feel strange. He has kids... 

“Yeah, I like them,” you sniff and let the plate balance on your legs. You take the cutlery and cut into the fluffy batter. 

“Admittedly, I’m a low effort cook,” he chuckles as he puts his hand on your knee, squeezing through the quilt, “but the syrup’s from Quebec and the blueberries are straight from the grove. Ann and her ladies go berry picking on Sundays.” 

At the mention of his wife, you shrink. You focus on eating as you stomach strips itself from the inside. Before, your appetite was barely a tickle, now it’s vociferous. You’d mostly pushed around the dinner they served last night. 

“That’s nice,” you wisp. 

He’s quiet, rubbing your leg as you chew. 

“What’s going on? You okay?” 

You swallow and take another bite. You need time to figure that out. You don’t think you’ll do that any time soon. 

“I just want to be with you,” you say as you raise your chin, your eyes meeting his. 

He considers you, his lips thinning and slanting. 

“I know. And... I know this isn’t exactly how you pictured it.” 

“Why didn’t...” you begin, pausing to cute another square of pancake. You dab it in the syrup as you bite down on your courage, “why didn’t you tell me you’re married?” 

He’s quiet again. You peek up at him as he stares down. You look at his hand. A golden ring wraps around his finger. You point the fork at it. 

“You never wore that.” 

He tilts his head and takes a deep breath. He meets your eyes. He looks afraid. Of you. No one’s ever looked at you like that. 

“I know. I don’t wear it during session. I’m supposed to ask the questions so I try to be a non-entity with my patients. I’m there to listen,” he pinches the band and twists it, “and it’s... lighter without it.” 

You shove more pancake into your mouth. You frown. You look around the room; a house, a wife, kids... you don’t fit into any of it. 

“I should go home,” your voice cracks with the statement. It’s his turn to wince. 

“Home? You can’t go back to Andy.” 

“No, not there,” you say. 

A vee divets between his brows, “to Amber? No, I don’t think you’re ready for that.” 

“But this place--” 

“You’re welcome here, sweetie.” 

You deflate and poke at the pancakes. You’re not hungry anymore. You scrape the tines of the fork so the flapjack shreds to fluffy strips. 

“I’m just the same as I was anywhere. A burden.” 

“You’re not--” 

“I don’t want to do that again,” you snap. “Last night was... was.... scary.” 

“I know it was new, sweetie, but you had fun, didn’t you?” 

You part your lips and shrug. 

“You came. I felt it. You felt me too, didn’t you?” 

You gape at him. A tingle flows through you as you barely save the plate from sliding off your lap. You grasp it and close your mouth. 

“You did,” he affirms, “you want to be together, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

“This is how we can be together.” 

“But Ann...” 

“I don’t think you’re seeing this the right way, sweetheart,” he reaches for the plate and you let him take it. He puts it on the table and sidles up the bed. He takes your hand and pulls it towards him. “Don’t look at Ann as just my wife, okay? She’s ours. All three of us are a unit. Think about it.” 

You suck in air and hold it in. Your pulse beats in your temple as you scrunch up your face. You let out the breath slowly as your eyes fall to his hand on yours. It didn’t feel like that when Andy held your head. That felt like a snare, like a cuff around your wrist, a chain tying you down. But when Steve touches you, when he just looks at you, you’re giddy and bright and safe. 

“Really?” You look up at him, “how does that work, though?” 

“Well, she’s my wife but you could be my wife too,” he explains, “and she’s your wife, I’m your husband but I’m hers too. There’s just three of us, sweetie. That’s all. And the kids, they love you.” 

“B-but...” you gulp, “but they’re not mine and... you can’t have two--” 

“Maybe not legally but that’s just paperwork. What right does the government have to tell us who to love,” he covers your hand with his other, rubbing it, “how about tonight, we’ll take it a bit slower, huh? I'll tell Ann to take it easy. It’ll all be up to you, sweetie, okay? You’re in charge.” 

“I... I guess I could... try?” You sputter. 

“Good,” he purrs, “you know, Ann really loves you.” 

“She does?” 

“Oh yeah, of course, and I know you can love her too,” he raises your hand and kisses your knuckles, “because I love both of you.” 

You stare at him, fixating on his lips as he lets your hand back down. You don’t care about all that other stuff, the touching, the licking, the rutting. You just want the little things. 

“What?” He asks, “did I miss something?” He pulls a hand away and wipes his chin, “I kinda scarfed everything down with the kids.” 

“No,” you breathe, “Steve?” Your eyes ping up to his, “I just... I just... I want a kiss. From you. I—It's all I ever wanted. I dreamt about it--” 

“About kissing me?” He giggles. 

“Mhmm,” you nod as you bite your lip. “Ever since... well... I shouldn’t say it.” 

“Since?” He prompts. 

You grin devilishly, “...Thanksgiving.” 

“Thanksgiving?” He repeats, “wow, well, can I tell you a secret?” 

“What?” 

“That’s all I could think about too,” he shifts, moving closer, “come here.” 

He brings his hand up under your chin. He leans in and you quiver, closing your eyes. His lips meet yours and sparks fly, all doubts dissipating. You touch his chest, feeling along the cotton of his shirt. You open your mouth and he accepts the invitation, his tongue invading hungrily as he eats you up. You tilt your head back as you hook your other arm around his neck. 

He parts, his forehead against yours and you puff up at him as he licks his lips, “mm, maple.” 

#andy barber #steve kemp #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark!steve kemp #dark steve kemp #andy barber x reader #steve kemp x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #library au #don't speak #series #defending jacob #fresh

[highonmarvel]

Honest

Steve Kemp: Steve’s never lied to you. 18+ only!

Dub/Non Con Warning!

more content warnings here!

“I’m gonna keep you alive, for as long as I can.”

You would have scoffed if you were in less of a frantic state. Though it had only been two months, you had grown to trust Steve; he had never lied to you, and you thought he never would. You trusted him so much that had he not already lied to you, you would believe him now.

“I don’t believe you,” you say shakily, trying to stop your body from trembling as you pull against the chain cuffed to your right hand.

He crouches down, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you’re too preoccupied with fumbling with your restraint to meet his gaze, despite deep down knowing how useless your effort here would be.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he says.

“You said you were a vegetarian,” you snap through gritted teeth, as you try hard at tugging your hand free.

“I said I don’t eat animals.”

You briefly pause your efforts—so momentarily it may as well not count—running through your mind the red flags you should have caught—but they were never lies. You want to berate yourself for getting so caught up in his charm, but, in your defence, how were you supposed to know your boyfriend was a cannibal? Maybe you should have been more wary he was a kidnapper, but a cannibal?

“Yeah,” this time you do scoff, “Eats pussy, eats people, what’s the difference.”

His serenity juxtaposed with your anxious effort to get free are driving you madder by the second.

“Stop doing that,” he mutters, but you don’t stop, instead trying harder, pulling harder, hands trembling harder, heart thumping harder.

“STOP!” he yells, and it startles you enough to pull your left hand away. He stands, towering over you and blocking the light, like a dark cloud blocking the sun to cause a storm.

“No!” you scream at him as you kick away the sheets of the thin mattress onto the cold floor, “Don’t touch me!” you shriek, cowering further into the corner, pushing up hard against the wall, willing it to swallow you up, even collapse against you—just anything to get you away from him.

He holds his hands up and shrugs, still cool as ever, as you throw your head back against the wall, eyes closed and chin outward towards him, nose to the roof as you will yourself to just. Wake. Up. Because this can’t be real.

You scramble to stand up and attempt to dart past him—for what, you’re not sure, maybe the chain will break or something, doesn’t matter, you just have to try something.

His eyes widen but he easily sticks out an arm and you run into it. You bend over his outstretched arm and start screaming and kicking. He pulls you against his chest, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist and the other caging your chest, his hand in your hair.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he coos, “Calm down.”

And against your better judgement you do, you slowly stop fighting against him, because no matter what, his warm arms wrapped around you and the scent of his earthy cologne relax you, like you’re conditioned to. You close your eyes and hope when you open them you’ll be back in your bed, Steve’s strong arms around you, and you were only kicking because you had an awful nightmare, but it’s okay, because Steve’s got you.

You peel your eyes open and deflate in disappointment, met with the same dim orange light and cold room, Steve’s arms around you.

You feel really stupid that you pretty much just walked into your cage, maybe you would have felt better if he had snatched you off the side of the road, because that wouldn’t be your fault. This… this did feel like your fault.

“Steve, let me go,” you demand, still out of breath.

He drops your body onto the mattress and you groan as you look up at him again. You know you asked, but you feel colder without him. You want to say I meant let me out of here, but he holds up a finger to stop you when he sees you open your mouth.

“Now why would I let my favourite girl leave?”

You physically cringe at his words. In any other context that would have you blushing and lightly squeezing your thighs together, but now, you hear the word favourite and your mind wanders to how many women he’s said that to… how many women he’s done this to.

“Would have thought you treated your favourite a little better,” you snap, and immediately regret it when his eyes go dark and his face falls. You suppress a shudder, and when the corner of his mouth quirks up, you try uselessly to back away even further. His eyes remain dangerous and his lips beautifully coy, his gorgeous features morphing a juxtaposition that terrifies you.

“You know I can make you feel good,” he drawls, tone heated.

“Steve, don’t,” you breathe, disgusted, by him, and by yourself, for you feel that familiar heartbeat calling out to him. Your body defies you, responding on its own to his drop in octave as you watch him crouch down to you.

He lays down next to you and moves his hand to your waist, “And you know… maybe I want you for myself. I already know you taste sweet.”

He smiles and traces his fingers further down to your thigh and squeezes gently.

You can’t look away from him, fixated on his steel blue eyes, mouth slightly open and breathing uneven.

Slowly, he moves to hold himself up above you, neat brown waves falling forward as he stares down at you, hunger-filled eyes raking over you. You know that look; he wants to devour you.

But… maybe in a different context this time.

Your nerves scale up as he moves down and places his head between your thighs, pushing them apart.

“Steve, please stop,” you whisper as he settles.

“You’re soaked already,” he remarks, before running his middle finger down your clothed slit. You writhe and you can feel his amused exhale against your heat.

Though every brain cell is screaming this is wrong, you can’t help but crave his mouth on you, and you’re so caught up in the idea you don’t even notice he’s slipping your underwear off until he leaves a gentle kiss on your cunt and you gasp, hands immediately flying to grip his hair.

He smiles before his mouth latches onto you.

Your hips buck into his face before he steadies you, his hands smoothing over your thighs and slipping underneath them to get a better (but still gentle) grip on you, pulling you closer to him. You let out a sob at a particularly harsh suck he gives and he grins before dipping his tongue back in and swirling.

“Steve…” you whine, and you can’t even tell for what; for him to stop, for him to never stop, you don’t know. With every swirl, lick, suck, you can feel your resolve starting to melt away, mere minutes into discovering you’re his fucking captive.

“You taste so fucking good,” he grunts against you, his voice cracking as he struggles to keep his composure, just as lost in the taste of you as you are in the feel of him.

You’re close and he knows it, “Cum for me, sweetness, please,” he begs, sounding nearly desperate. And you do, with an arch of your back and a heavenly moan falling from your mouth, you cum into his mouth, tears stinging your vision as you grip tighter onto his locks before letting your hands fall away to push weakly as his shoulders.

“See?” he says as he raises his head. You manage to look down at him, his nose and lower face glistening, coated in you, “You just taste so fucking good… the rest of you’s gotta to be as heavenly too, honey.”

♯

#steve kemp x reader #dark!steve kemp #dark!steve kemp x you #dark!steve kemp x reader #dark steve kemp #dark steve kemp x reader #dark steve kemp x you #steve kemp x y/n

[thevillainswhore]

A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Pairing: Dark!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: It was an art - one that took many years and many sacrifices to perfect, and Steve had managed to become a master at it. There was just one thing he would not fully commit to sacrificing, at least not the important parts that kept life essence flowing: you.

Warnings: THIS IS A DARK FIC - PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - dead dove, kidnapping, mentions of smut (p in v), fingering and oral (fem receiving), implied non-con, degradation, restraints, physical abuse (face slapping), cannibalism (it’s Steve kemp what did you expect?), force feeding, hints of Stockholm syndrome?

A/N: Unbeta’d | dividers created by @rookthorne thank you for also helping me with the summary my love 🥰 | this oneshot was inspired by the lovely @smutconnoisseur who made me this absolutely stunning moodboard 😭 I just knew I had to write something as soon as I saw it. Thank you so much sweetie, loves you the most 🥹

“Let me go, you fucking psycho!”

Steve merely kept on humming to himself, happily slicing the meat in front of him into finely cut pieces. It took severe attention to detail to finesse the glide of the knife just right, cutting through as smooth as butter.

It had taken quite a long time to get his craft on the line of perfection - years in the making - and now that he’d finally mastered the art, it was as easy as riding a bike. The rush of adrenaline spiking his nerves gave him a hit unlike anything else in his life. This was what he was meant for. He’d wasted so much time not giving in before.

Wooden screeching against the floor snapped him out of his inner musings, eyes lifting up to see you fidgeting in your chair - presumably trying to escape, but the chains attached to your feet would keep you rooted.

Steve couldn’t help but notice how the glow of the candlelight surrounding you on the dinner table highlighted the beauty in the features of your face. Sunset orange dancing among the shadows, defining your cheekbones and your shoulders decorated in the straps of a pretty dress.

You were so beautiful. Perfect for him.

Placing the meat onto a skillet to cook, Steve wiped his hands and rounded the corner of the kitchen island to join you, the sudden bravado you had earlier evaporating while terror took over your body. His cock shouldn’t have gotten hard seeing the tears gathering on your lash line, but those glassy eyes reminded him of a deer in fright, ready to run. And fuck, would he love the chase.

“Bambi… join me.”

It was haunting, the kind smile Steve let loose as he held out his hand to you after arriving by your side. No wasn’t an answer, and you did well to stand up on your shaky legs - from still recovering or fear, he wasn’t sure - quietly proud of you either way.

Flashbacks of you clumsily tripping over the bed to go relieve yourself on the toilet crossed his mind as he brought you to the middle of the living room. After fucking you three times in one night, leaving you screaming his name and begging for more each time, he couldn’t help be prideful watching you stumble your way out of the room. Just like a doe learning to walk for the first time.

Of course, the chains rattling with each step you took while limping weren’t part of the memory. The heavy breaths were familiar though, smirk crawling onto his face as he imagined your adorable squeaks while he ate your cunt like he was man starved.

Once Steve had directed you into the middle of the living room rug, he brought you closer to him, slipping his arm over your waist as you flinched, and grabbing your other hand to hold as he began to slowly dance. He was thoughtful enough to keep his steps light and be extra careful with you.

Deciding it was too much of a distraction for you a long time ago, Steve had decided to forego music in the house - it let your mind switch off and he wanted your brain alert… in the present. Solely on him and every move he made. So, he graced you with his singing voice instead, whispering the lyrics to ‘Restless Heart’ in your ear.

Steve felt the shaking of your chest before your uncontrollable sobs cut through his singing. He’d be offended had he no clue how scared his Bambi was.

“What’s wrong, Bambi? Huh? Don’t you like it here with me?”

“I w-want to go h-home.” You stuttered.

Steve sighed and lifted your head up with his palms, kissing your forehead and leaning down to your watery eyeline to speak to you directly.

“Oh, baby…” his condescending tone gave away his faux concern for you, “you know I can’t let you do that.”

You began to heave, breaths coming in fast and heavy with panic - Steve almost felt a crack in his heart. Almost.

Truth be told, Steve knew you were it for him. Ever since he first saw you from the corner of his eye walking down the fruit and vegetable aisle, he’d been bewitched.

Youthful, tight skin, good looking.

You ticked all the boxes for him… and the rest of his client base.

He’d caught other women before - gorgeous, just the right amount of meat on their thighs to keep the buyers happy.

They were good. However, they didn’t compare to you.

Normally, Steve would be excited to find new prey. The cat and mouse play of picking out women to cut up and sell. But, you were different. Steve wanted you all for himself.

See, you weren’t just a pretty face, you were witty, funny, intelligent - maybe not smart enough to see what was coming, but he didn’t hold that against you, he was just too conniving after all.

And those goddamn dates he took you on, paving the path for his plan to come to fruition, when he found himself enjoying your company. Steve wanted to spend all of his time with you, willingly.

That was when he decided he didn’t want to go along with his usual plans. Instead, he wanted to date you. See where this relationship could go.

So, he took you to his house tucked away in a secluded area - the excuse of wanting a weekend without the modern world bothering you in disguise of your questioning to the lack of signal or Wi-Fi.

Honestly, he didn’t initially plan to drug you. The opportunity just… sprung onto him. Too tempting to not listen to his base instincts and ignore the spiked wine hidden in the alcohol cabinet.

A voice in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t be doing that, he vividly remembered it. The urge to get a kick out of his charades with someone as good as you overpowered it, though.

Steve wasn’t proud of himself afterwards, but how could he be blamed? He’d worked out a successful routine before he stumbled on you. Wooing girls fitting his mental meat quality checklist and eventually luring them into his second home. It was only natural to follow his instincts, what he’d made of himself.

You especially weren’t happy when you found yourself on his home operating table, opening your eyes to realise your boyfriend was taking your ass.

Weirdly, he didn’t find guilt in the thrill he took from that - that seemed to sicken you the most. He remembered how you lunged for him, screaming about the insanity of his pleasures when you woke up after the surgery to find him sitting in your caged prison. Cutting into your delicate skin to watch the stream of blood flow down your rump to then hearing him laughing to himself as he showed you the flesh stolen away from your body had your head spinning - dangling it from his fingers in front of your face.

It wasn’t too long after that you passed out from overexertion. If only you knew the way he used you to take care of himself after that.

It may have been confusing to understand, but Steve genuinely thought the world of you. Those few months of dating spent together changed his mind on whether he’d find a companion ever again.

Finding love alongside Steve’s hobby had been difficult to put it lightly. His first wife knew of his side activities coinciding with his doctoral career. That was why he settled being with her, someone who was accepting of who he was. But, although she may have put up with what he was doing, she didn’t initiate that spark within Steve - that buried, deep seated fire that begged to be set free. Steve wanted to be seen, to be loved in his entirety.

There was no shame in that.

That was what led to the downfall of his marriage, Steve was no longer interested in the farce of keeping up appearances with a woman who didn’t truly understand him. Which is why she had to go. Just divorcing wasn’t an option, she knew too much.

Then came along you. His pretty doe, who captured his heart from a glance.

As your hysteria whittled on, Steve hugged you tight to his chest.

He’d kept you here for a month in total now. Four glorious weeks of spending time with you alone, bonding together. Your feistiness only made his cock grow in his slacks whenever you put up a fight.

His little doe didn’t put out easy - just how he liked it.

As your tears continued to soak his dress shirt further, he shushed your cries, keeping you close and he swayed side to side in comfort.

The beeping of the oven hob, interrupted Steve’s attempt at soothing you. The meat was cooked and it was time to plate up the dinner he’d made for the two of you.

Bringing you away from his chest, Steve smoothed your hair behind your ears, wiping his thumbs under your swollen eyes to get rid of your tears. Holding your arm, he again directed you back towards the table to sit down, clamped your hands back into the cuffs attached before walking towards the kitchen.

Peaking over, Steve noticed you had calmed down and collected yourself by the time he was adding the peppermint sauce over the mashed potatoes and meat.

He had high hopes on your opinion of his cooking, what you thought mattered to him, believe it or not. It was his real passion beside becoming a plastic surgeon, and he wanted you of all people to like it.

Gracefully, Steve walked on over with his finished plates and set one on each placemat. Your head was bowed, eyes set on the meal set in front of you.

“What is it?”

Your mousy voice spoke up and had Steve looking down at you, lifting your chin up with two fingers so he could see your face.

“Your favourite, sweetheart. Steak and mashed potato.”

A shudder racked through your body as Steve smirked, dropping your face and grabbing the large napkin to fan out over your thighs. He smoothed the material over your legs and traced the tips of his fingers along your bare skin. The sight of you inching away didn’t sit well with Steve, pinching you to hear that familiar yelp he loved so much.

He began to get settled in his seat, combing his styled hair back with his fingers before beginning to cut up the meat on his plate.

“You remember our dinner date don't you, baby? You ordered the exact same thing when the waiter asked. Poor boy couldn’t keep his eyes to himself when I made you speak as I fucked you with my fingers.”

Steve knows you didn’t want him to hear the gasp that couldn’t be kept in. Adorable. You were still so shy around him.

But he didn’t appreciate how long your silence lingered, looking up to see you still staring down at your food, untouched.

The knife clashing down on the plate made you jump in your seat. You didn’t want to eat, no bother. Steve would help you.

Stabbing a cut of meat with his fork, Steve carefully leaned over the table to hold the steak up to your mouth for you to take a bite.

“Open up, my little doe.”

Steve saw your mouth opening up, happy to see you were cooperating with his request. You were finally making progress. Only for you to suddenly move your head to the side as he got close and bite down onto his hand, hard.

The fury built up in Steve as he snatched his hand away, fork scattering onto the table as he released it. In instant retaliation, Steve backhanded you across the face, sending your head whipping over to the side as blood spurted out your mouth.

“Bad girl.”

Blood from the force of his hit trickled down the corner of your mouth. You hadn’t moved from your spot for a second before Steve grabbed the front of your neck, bringing you closer over the table and ignoring your squeak of pain.

“Now, eat what I so graciously cooked you before I fucking force it down your throat.” His spit from the anger of his voice shot out onto your face. Steve shoved you back before slumping into his own seat once again.

His hot and cold nature always had you on edge, but you were used to it by now. Is that what he really deserved after being so thoughtful to you?

Steve observed you closely. Watching your every move should you try something like that again. Only would you get away with something like that once.

You picked up the fork dropped, meat still intact on the silverware and inspected it thoroughly. He knew you were looking for hints of poison or something that indicated he’d drugged you. He threatened it enough times for you to be wary.

He wasn’t sure what you would have preferred once you found out.

Opening your mouth, you placed the meat tenderly onto your tongue and closed to begin eating.

Steve waited until you had swallowed. Intently watching you chew before you were finished with your bite. He gave it a second before sitting back up, taking the fork from you and stabbing another piece, ready to start his meal.

Not before letting you in on his secret ingredient. “I always said you tasted good, didn’t I, Bambi?”

Cold dread visibly washed over your face as you went deadly quiet. Your hands began to abnormally shake. Steve just sat there and watched as your body went into emotional turmoil.

There wasn’t much you could have done, chained to the table, hyperventilating. It wasn’t even as if you could have stuck your fingers down your throat to throw it back up, fingers too far out of reach to even try. It didn’t stop you from dry heaving over the side of the table, retching loudly.

Eventually, the panic your body sent you in, along with your howling cries from despair allowed you to get worked up enough to throw up. Regurgitated meat mixed with bile landing on the carpet as Steve carried on eating - unfazed.

It took you a while for your body to finally relax, for your mind to comprehend what Steve just made you do. Sweat dripped down your face as you forced your body back upright, too weak to fully keep your eyes open as you hoarsely spoke.

“Why are you doing this?”

You looked defeated, body slumped with dark circles under your eyes, shivering like Steve hadn’t cranked the heating up.

Steve wiped his mouth. He understood you were an acquired taste, not for the lightheaded - you’d get used to it eventually though. He thought you were delicious, cleaning up his plate entirely.

He looked directly into your eyes after he finished eating, voice devoid of emotion. “Isn’t it obvious? I love you.”

Your reply is instant “No, you don’t.”

Darkness blackered his pupils. Body still and uptight as he went still. Steve pushed his plate away and leaned his forearms onto the table, never stopping staring as you squirmed in your seat.

“Don’t you ever question my love for you again. Do you hear me?”

You swallowed the presumed lump in your throat.

Steve couldn’t understand how you didn’t know how much he cared for you. You were here, eating in his dining room. He’d sacrificed customer sales by keeping you to himself. He loved you. You’d understand one day though. He’d make sure of it.

“Give it time, Bambi. I know you’ll learn to love me back.”

“And if I don’t?” There was one last inch of life in your eyes, a thin thread of hope holding on for dear life. Steve could see it clear as day, the embers in your irises dying out with each moment he took to answer.

He knew he had you then, the gut punch of his response blowing out the flame once and for all.

“Funny… you think you have a choice.”

#steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x female reader #steve kemp x f!reader #steve kemp smut #dark!steve kemp #dark!steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x y/n #Steve kemp x reader smut #dark!Steve kemp x f!reader #dark!steve kemp x y/n #dark!steve kemp x reader smut #dark Steve kemp #Steve kemp x you

[bluehourbucky]

MAIN MASTER LIST

-------------☆~☆~☆welcome☆~☆~☆-------------

hello! welcome to my masterlist, where there are links to all my fics I've written so far.

I mostly write for Bucky Barnes, but there are a few more marvel characters i sometimes write for.

I try to keep the reader without description so anyone could read it <3

content:

❤️‍🔥- smut

🩷-fluff

💥- angst

🖤- dark

•••••••••••••••

BUCKY BARNES

•••••••••••••••

MOON KNIGHT 🌙

STEVE KEMP

YELENA BELOVA

Spencer Reid

Nightmare

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel fic #bucky imagine #bucky masterlist #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #marvel imagine #yelena x reader #yelena mcu #yelena masterlist #dark steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #spencer criminal minds #spencer x reader

[nickfowlerrr]

🦋 “When will you be mine” w/ Steve Kemp🥰

when will you be mine

continuation

pairing: steve kemp x reader (do i need to tag him as dark or is that just already implied seeing as how he’s a serial killer? 💀)

words: 1k

notes: i know i said short little blurb but my fingers wouldn’t stop typing lmao. also i didn’t mean for this to be so “YOU” ish but oh well 🥲 this is my first time writing for steve kemp so i’m still trying to find him in my writing - we’ll get there eventually 🥴 anyway! thank you for sending this in!! 💙

“You again,” the familiar voice jested, causing you to turn around and eye him.

“Hey, that’s my line,” you retorted with a small smirk. “Back so soon, Mr. Kemp?” you lilted teasingly.

“For the thousandth time, it’s Steve. Please,” he begged, “please, just call me Steve.”

You smiled at his playful dramatics and nodded, conceding.

“Steve,” you corrected yourself, earning a smile from him in return. “Was there a problem with your drink?” you asked, worried.

“No,” he assured you. “I, uh, I actually just came back to ask you something..” he trailed off, sounding almost nervous.

“What’s up,” you prompted him to continue.

“You do catering, don’t you?”

His simple question caught you off guard, you weren’t expecting it with how fidgety he was being all of a sudden.

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I do,” you nodded.

“Great,” was all he said in response until you squinted at him, a small smile playing on your lips as you fought the urge to let your nervous laugh escape.

“I’m having a little get together next weekend. Just a few people, really small. But, uh, I’d love to have you cater, if you’re available. I haven’t stopped thinking about your cupcake since you let me taste it last week. The cupcake, you gave me - that cupcake, I mean. It was fantastic, I know I’ve told you before, but you’re a really great baker,” he babbled as he blushed at his poor word choice and obvious fumbling. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling so big. Even now he was adorable.

Steve was in your shop weekly if not daily getting a coffee and whatever food item you suggested to him any given visit. He was your favorite customer and you couldn’t help yourself from developing a bit of a crush on the guy. He was gorgeous, funny, smart, so sweet, and charming as hell. You had made him a special cupcake for his birthday last week and since then, he’d been..just a little different when he came in. Almost shy, nervous, though he tried to hide it, it always showed through by the end of his visits. You were worried you had screwed things up with the cupcake, made him uncomfortable or something, but now you felt relieved knowing he really did like it.. And with how flustered he was getting, you thought maybe he really did like you, too.

You had no idea, but Steve was smitten with you the first day he walked into your bakery cafe.

He always had a lot on his plate, though. Never wanted to get you tangled up with his work. He didn’t see you like he saw others, he wasn’t interested in getting you to sell you. He wanted you all for himself.

But he didn’t push it. He couldn’t. He needed to wait for the right time. And he would, to make sure there was no chance of anyone or anything fucking things up for him, he’d wait for the perfect time to take you, to finally make you his. Seeing you as often as he did, talking, flirting, just being around you when he could, it was enough for him for the time being. At least it had been. Until last week. He walked into the cafe and when you saw him, the way your eyes lit up, it made his heart sing. You ran to the back and returned with a little green pastry box just as he approached the front of the line. You took over the register and gave him a soft smile.

“Happy birthday,” you offered, placing the box down in front of him. “I made you this. It’s red velvet..and your drink is on the house, too,” you added, batting your lashes at him, though he wasn’t sure you even realized you were doing so. It was adorable and he smiled back with a sincere and grateful ‘thank you’, shoving the cash he had to pay for his usual order into your tip jar when you turned back to get his drink before you walked down the counter with him to talk a bit before he would inevitably have to go to work. All day, he couldn’t stop thinking of you, couldn’t focus on much of anything.

You remembered his birthday and you made him a cupcake. A special cupcake just for him. He knew his feelings weren’t one sided, but your consideration and obvious care really showed him he was right. He decided that day, he couldn’t wait much longer. You belonged with him. He needed to be careful, now, though. He couldn’t get sloppy just because he had feelings for you, he needed to keep his patience. He just needed to get you out of town. His new home was almost finished and he couldn’t wait to get you there. It would be perfect. Just like you.

He didn’t want to be too confident, didn’t want to freak you out or scare you. So he’d play the part. Make sure you felt safe. Because you were, you had nothing to fear with him, he’d make sure of it.

You helped him schedule the catering, chose what pastries would travel best and picked one of your most popular flavors. You told him you’d be there right on time and it was going to be a rather small gathering, no more than ten people, if that, so you were the only one who needed to work it, it’d be easy. The “venue” was a bit of a ways away, but Steve insisted he’d cover your gas money, so you weren’t going to complain or argue. Plus, you really wanted to do this for him, you would have said yes no matter what. With the plans all set, Steve left looking more sure of himself than when he’d first asked about setting something up. You didn’t think anything of it and returned his smile and ‘see you later’.

Steve was thrilled. Everything was set and now he had a week to ensure everything was ready for you at his place. Just a week, he kept reminding himself. Just one more week and she’ll be mine.

part two

#asks #rubynationwins #bellasburdens one year celebration 💙 #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x y/n #soft!dark steve kemp #soft dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #dark steve kemp

[botnasty]

Taste {2}: Smell

Steve Kemp X F!Reader

[First Part]

Summary: Steve wants you.

Words: 1,6K words

Warnings: ANGST, DARK, SMUT=DUB/NON-CON, SEX POLLEN, reader gets drugged, masturbation (f), pillow humping, PIV, rough sex, unprotected sex, mention of blood, mention of kidnapping, mention of cannibalism (duh)

Note: All mistakes are mine. And also don’t be shy, come say hi. My request are open, so if you have any suggestions or ideas, I’m open to hear them. Or if you wanna talk :)

And, tell me if I’m missing any warnings please.

Not proofread

MAIN MASTERLIST

SEBASTIAN STAN CHARACTER MASTERLIST

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog! Your media consumption is your own responsibility

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorization

Steve panted and whipped the sweat off his forehead. After all that happened the other day with his best friend, he had been in a dire need for a run, to clear his head and figure out what to do with her.

He loved her. There was no doubt there. He was obsessed with her since he was just a mere kid. And now he had her…

But not completely.

He had to find a way. A way to get inside her head. He already had her affection that he knew, but needed more.

He wanted her to only need him and just him. He wanted her to think of him from the moment you wake up till sundown. He wanted you to dream of him, to want to be with him, to be obsessed with him.

He leaned against the table as he looked at the camera focused on you. “What are you doing now? What are you saying, Dove?”

You paced around the cold stone room, sometimes stopping to pound at the door until your first bleed.

“This is not real. This is not real.” You slapped yourself, pinched the skin of your arm. Did every trick in the book to wake yourself up and nothing worked.

You felt like you were suffocating, your mouth dry.

“Are you okay?” You heard a voice. You turned around to find the source, only to find nothing. “I heard a strange noise. Are you okay?”

“Who are you? Where are you?” You asked, crawling closer.

“I’m Noa. I’m in the cell next to yours.”

“Noa?” You said under your breath. A name that you knew very much.

“Yeah. I’m sorry you got fooled too…”

“You know… I was just like you at the beginning. ” Started Noa, her voice echoing against the stone wall. Despair lacing the words coming out of her mouth. “That I would one day get out… that someone would notice my disappearance. But, I have no one. We all have no one.”

“Isn’t that right, Penny!” Noa screamed.

You hear a weak “Yeah.”

She laughed weakly. “And he always kept on coming and coming. Taking and taking. Parts after parts.” She let out a laugh. “Can you believe it? I don’t have an ass, nor one of my legs and arms. I can barely feel anything anymore. I feel crazy…”

You listened to her through the vents connecting the cells. The more she spoke the more dread filling your stomach. They were the girls. The woman you’ve been looking for more months without ends.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks and your breath was short. You felt like you were suffocating. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” All this time… the man doing this was in front of you all this time and you never noticed. “I couldn’t—“

You were a failure.

Noa chuckled and you heard her chain rattling. “Why are you sorry? We are all in the same boat here…”

You rubbed the snot coming out of your nose. “I was trying to find you. For months I’ve been trying.”

You heard a small ‘what’. And that deep ache inside of you grew even more. The little hope that was in that word just broke you.

“And I found you. But now I can’t do anything.”

“But can’t you— Don’t you have people who will try to look for you? Won’t the police wonder why you’re not coming to work?”

You shook your head even if you knew she couldn’t see you. All the hope in her voice made you weak. You felt all the fight inside of you leave. “They won’t. Because they didn’t care about this case. They told me that if I took it, they wouldn’t help me… I’m being rogue right now, and the police, they don’t like that.” You said, laying down in the pile of sheets that Steve called a bed.

“What the fuck. What the fuck!” Noa screamed and then all was silent. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of whimpers coming from all the women who’s hope just bursted into flame.

The moment you woke up, you could feel the difference. The air felt more thick after each and every breath and you could barely breathe. You felt hot all over but especially in between your legs.

Your pussy was pulsing with deep neediness and you felt like your clit was just begging to be played with. So you couldn’t help yourself when you pulled yourself up, pulled your sweatpants and soaked panties off of you and started rubbing your soaked pussy against your pillow. Your juice was pouring onto the cloth and soaking it. Your scent was now impregnated onto it.

You wanted it all to stop. That neediness, that hotness everything that was making you rub your clit like a woman who hadn’t had sex in years. You felt like you were about to burst at any second and touching yourself was the only remedy for it.

You placed one hand on the wall and the other brought the pillow closer to your core as you grinded on it harder, the sensation on your clit making you whimper and throw your head back.

Right as you were about to cum, you heard the door of your cell open and there he was.

Steve. A faux pout on his lips.

Image of those lips wrapped around your clit lashed inside your head and you felt humiliated, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stop your hips from grinding against the pillow and cum right as he walked inside the room.

“I can’t believe you started without me, Dove.” You vaguely heard him say as you were still coming out of your high.

When you opened your eyes, you saw him right in front of you, sitting on the ground, shirtless and you felt your cunt pulse even more.

You needed more. You needed him. All rational thoughts went out the window as you growled and crawled on top of him.

You placed your hand on the imprint of his cock as you unbuckled his belt as fast as you could.

“I fucking love you like this.” He said, rubbing his nose against your cheek. “So needy for me. Obsess with me.” He kissed down your jaw, but you didn’t care. All you wanted, needed, was his cock inside your pulsing walls.

“I’m so fucking hard for you.” He growled into your ear. “Just want to feel you for days.”

You whimpered when you finally pulled his pants down enough to pull his cock out of his boxer and immediately you pulled yourself up with your knee and slid down on his erected cock.

The feeling of being full, of his cock twitching inside of you, made the burning sensation finally go away. You placed your hand on his shoulder as you pulled yourself up and down.

He placed his big hands around your hips and helped you hip and down his hard cock. “Feel so fucking good, Dove. So good and all mine.” He slapped your ass hard enough to make it blush red. You moaned at the impact

He leaned closer to you and bit your lips hard, you whimpered when you tasted blood. “Taste so fucking good.” Steve said as he licked the blood. “No one else will be able to taste you but me. I’m keeping you all to myself.”

He placed a hand around your neck and under the swell of your ass so he could lift you and slide deeper inside of you. At every thrust of his hips, his cock going deeper and the tips always touching your cervix.

“All fucking mine.” He groaned into your neck as he pistoned inside of you. You threw your head back at all the pleasure you were feeling. Your boobs moving up and down at every thrust.

Your climax came unexpectedly. You screamed as you squirt. Your juice glistening his cock and balls and some landing on his stomach and your tits.

Steve groaned as he licked it off your tits and bit down on your nipple. again drawing out blood and licking it too. “I can’t wait to fucking taste you, Dove.” He moaned out as he came inside of me. His cum painting you walls and dripping down his dick. “I fukcing love you so much.”

Only then did all your senses came back. “What did I do…” You immediately slid off his cock and crawled backward. Away from him.

Away from this monster.

“I did it again…” You said looking at your hand. “How, why?” Then you remember how the air was before all this.

You pointed at him, making him stop from going closer to him. “You did this to me. You did something to me.” You covered your lover half with your bed sheets.

“Dove…”

“Don’t you fucking call me ‘Dove’! You are not my friend! You are not my Steve! You are a monster with his face!” You screamed at him.

Steve's gaze grew hard and he locked your jaw in his grasp, hard. “Now you fucking listen to me. This has always been me. How I am. You either accept it or…”

You shook your head. “Never…” You managed to say.

He tisked. “After everything we’ve been through. You still made the wrong choice.” Is all he says before you felt something pick your neck.

Your eyes widened. “What?” You tried to push him away. Your hand pushing against his face and chest until you couldn’t anymore.

Until you felt a haze and darkness consumed everything.

Please feel free to reblog or tell me what you think :)

#sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan #sebastian #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan fic #steve kemp #steve kemp smut #steve kemp fic #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x y/n #dark steve kemp #dark fic #sebastian stan smut #fresh the movie #fresh #fresh 2022 #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader

[alanagrey]

Dark Steve Kemp

this man is the absolute love of my life. i love all of you who’ve written about him. please feel free to send me pieces similar to the ones below.

ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪs ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴘᴇᴄɪғɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴛᴀʙᴏᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪsᴛᴜʀʙɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴘɪᴄs. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs.

✸ indicates my personal favourites, but all the below fics are absolutely fantastic.

◌ One Shots

No Escape, by @buckybarnesandmarvel

→ [you try to escape steve. he shows you there is no escape]

needs, by @heavysoldat ✸

→ [with your period worse than ever, you’re left almost bed-ridden in nothing but his clothes. and when you’re sat there, looking so pretty, steve can’t deny himself. a man has needs, after all]

The Hand That Feeds, by @cadaverousnight ✸

→ [Steve finds you in a compromising position; it would be cruel of him not to offer his help]

Take It Easy, by @cadaverousnight ✸

→ [Just how far are you willing to go to convince Steve he can trust you?]

Fettered Attachments, by @wh0reforoldmen

→ [Being Steve’s captive is one thing- but falling for him is another]

A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing, by @thevillainswhore ✸

→ [It was an art - one that took many years and many sacrifices to perfect, and Steve had managed to become a master at it. There was just one thing he would not fully commit to sacrificing, at least not the important parts that kept life essence flowing: you]

Honest, by @highonmarvel

→ [Steve’s never lied to you]

You didn’t need that, did you?, by @highonmarvel ✸

→ [You meet a man at the bar who loves your thighs]

Wine and Dine, by @nicestgirlonline

→ [You get stood up on your first date in forever, luckily Steve swoops in to save the day…]

the possession, by @sgt-seabass

→ [Steve teaches his sunflower a lesson]

mind games, by @sgt-seabass

→ [Sunflower learns what happens when she disobeys her daddy]

A Well Respected Man, by @sableseb

→ [no description]

◌ Two- or three-parters

slave to pain & Shattered, by @sgt-seabass ✸

→ [You escape Steve’s basement & A failed escape attempt lands you on Steve’s operating table]

◌ Series

A New Life, by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ✸

→ [You have an unexpected encounter in the park]

P1

P2

P3

#steve kemp x reader #dark!steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark steve kemp x you #dark steve kemp x y/n #dark!steve kemp x reader #dark!steve kemp x you #dark!steve kemp x y/n

[vellicore]

ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴘᴜʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ-ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀᴘᴘ. ɪꜰ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴇᴇꜱ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀᴏ3 , ɪᴛ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ.

ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀʏ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇᴅ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴀɴʏ ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ *

18+ ONLY

One Shots

Last Christmas  Steve Kemp x Reader 

It’s been a year since you first arrived in Steve’s basement. Things were different that first Christmas the two of you spent together. 

Drabbles & More

Red Flags Steve Kemp x Reader

So much for your obsession with murder mysteries… They sure didn’t help you with seeing his red flags. 

#Steve Kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x y/n #steve kemp drabble #steve kemp drabbles #steve kemp one shots #steve kemp fics #steve kemp x you #dark steve kemp

[vader-anakin]

Sebastian Stan starring as Steve Kemp

FRESH (2022)

#sebastian stan #steve kemp #sebstanedit #sebastiansource #fresh movie #marveladdicts #filmedit #dilfgifs #dailyflicks #tvandfilm #mensource #mancandykings #userstream #userbbelcher #chewieblog #usersvenja #unearthlydust #yourbuckies #userashe #a glimpse of heaven before everything went dark #imagine waking up this view hbshsb #so fucking SOFT #fresh #gif

[shadeysprings]

FREAKtober Fest 2023

Finally, after some encouragement from friends, I present my first of many FREAKtober Fest to you.

There will be four stories, each with captivatingly dark themes, that will be posted each Saturday of the month - there might also be a wild card, so stay tuned.

REMINDER: These stories are strictly 18+ and will have dark themes. With that said, I advise caution when engaging with them - that also means minors are not allowed to interact.

WEEK ONE

— YOU

Art Collector!Steve Kemp Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.

WEEK TWO

— So Good. So Bad.

Stalker!Ex-Boyfriend!Lloyd Hansen The Halloween party you and your friends attend turns upside down all because of your jealous ex.

WEEK THREE

—Serial Killer!Lee Bodecker

WEEK FOUR

—Therapist!Andy Barber

WILD CARD - This will be a surprise

#beanie's freaktober fest #freaktober fest #steve kemp #dark steve kemp #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #andy barber #dark andy barber #sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 44

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

Note: took a while.

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. 💖

Ann covers your mouth with hers, her tongue delving inside as you garble. You lay, still as marble as her hand slides down your pelvis. She curls her fingers and rolls along your clit, playing with you as you squeak.  

She rocks her hand as your body reacts. You don't want it too. You want it to stop. Her, too. 

She grabs the back of your head, her other hand firmly between your legs as she forces it further between your thighs. She pokes a finger inside you as you whimper and flatten yourself against the mattress. He lifts herself, staying attached to you as she straddles you below. 

She leans on her hand, tilting as if it's connected to her pelvis, fucking you as she pushes in a second finger. You squeeze your eyes shut, struggling to breathe as she traps you. 

"Mmm," she drags her lips down her cheek and you feel the gloss smear on your skin, "you delicious, aren't you??" She purrs, "he's going to like you so much." 

She rams her fingers as deep as she can, crushing her hand against you violently. You whimper but don't stop her. You're terrified and confused. What is she doing? What does she mean? 

“Relax, honey, I'm just getting you ready for him,” she growls and nuzzles you, “you're so tight. He’s really going to enjoy that.” 

You squirm as a whine escapes you. You hide beneath your eyelids as she continues her intrusion. Her nose touches yours, lips brushing as her breath cascades hotly across your cheeks. She closes the distance and crushes her mouth to yours, her tongue delving inside without welcome. 

Your head pulses and spins, your body sets alight as you wriggle, helpless to her affections. Your heart lurches as a vision flashes in your mind. It’s not Ann, it’s Andy atop of you, touching you, forcing you, smothering you. 

You turn your face away and gasp. Your eyes roll open, glossy with tears as you push on Ann’s shoulders. You’re too weak to make a difference as she nips and kisses at your neck instead. She keeps you splayed her legs against yours as she tilts her hand, fucking you to the knuckle as she puffs in tandem. 

“Mm,” she purrs, “be a good girl... yeah, are you getting wet for him? For my husband?” 

“Please,” you whisper. 

“Don’t be ashamed. A pathetic thing like you has simple desires, don’t you?” She taunts, “he’s your doctor, sweetheart, and you’re panting like a dog to have him.” 

“Please... stop,” you beg as you grasp her upper arm, “I don’t...” 

“I can see it,” she snarls and bits along your jawline, “baby, I’m not mad at it. He needs a new toy.” She shoves her fingers as deep as they’ll go, “he might play with you but he comes home to me.” 

You sniffle and slap your hand down on the bed. You can’t fight her. You deserve this. She’s right. You’re a bad person. You like Dr. Kemp more than you should. You’re a patient and she’s his wife. 

“Mmm,” she drags herself down your body, keeping her hand buried between your legs, “let me help you...” 

She kneels between your legs and tears down your pants. Your body bounces on the bed as you lay paralysed to her whims. She untangles your pants from your legs and hurls away the fabric. She bends to breathe into the tuft of hair along your pelvis. 

She nuzzles and pokes her tongue between your folds. You clench your teeth and stare at the wall. You hold air in your chest as she keeps her fingers sliding in and out, teasing your bud as she hums. Your feet arch even as you fight to stay number to her touch.  

Just like with Andy, you want it to end. You need it to be over. You wiggle your nose as you try to keep the tears from falling. How could you ever believe you were saved? More foolishly, how could you think Steve could ever like you like that? 

Your eyes glaze over as the plucking of her tongue twangs in your core. No, no, no, you don’t want to feel. You pant and puff, trying to hold back the effect of her violation. You dig your nails into the blanket and squeak as your insides coil and release. You spasm and whimper through the uninvited orgasm and bite your lip until you taste blood. 

She keeps touching you, invading you as she shoves her fingers into your cunt. She pushes to her knuckles and slides back out, slow as she pulls her mouth off of you. She purrs as she dips in and out, long strokes that have you squirming. It hurts, more than physically. 

You turn your head straight and cry out as you notice a shadow behind her. You couldn’t hear Steve past your own deafening breaths. So caught up in the whirlwind of your horror that your heartbeat tamped out all around you.  

Ann tilts her head up as he stands behind her. His thick hands rest on her shoulders, kneading them as he bends to kiss her lips. She murmurs something you can’t make out and drags her fingers down your thigh, leaving a wet streak down your flesh. 

She shifts back on her heels and stands, turning to her husband as you sniffle. You can’t hold back anymore. You’re mortified. You push your legs together as he caresses her cheek and whispers to her. He turns to you, his blue eyes drifting over your body. 

You sit up as he presses a knee to the mattress. You bend your legs and fold them against your chest. He comes towards you and tickles up your calves. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he coos, “you can trust me.” 

“Please,” you croak, “you... you’re married.” 

“Sweetie, it’s... open. An arrangement. It’s fine. You’re not doing anything wrong,” he trails his hand up your calf, “just relax.” 

“Steve, I...” you pout. 

He pauses and sits back on his heels, his forehead lines and his face falls, “I thought... I thought you liked me.” 

“I do but I didn’t know...” you look at Ann as she watches you with a smirk, biting her index fingers coyly. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something, I know, but I... I like you too,” he breathes, “and she knew about you. All this time. Wasn't she nice to you?” He turns his head, “Ann...” 

“She came,” she pokes her finger into her mouth and sucks on it, popping it out, “she’s sweet. Why don’t you have a taste?” 

You blanch and peer between them. Your heart is fluttering wildly. You’re dizzy but you can’t decipher the swirling inside of you. You don’t know if you want this. You don’t what you want.  

You bat your eyes at Steve and your heart flips. No, you know you want Steve. That day you touched yourself and he flashed into your mind you were sure. For the first time in your life, you really wanted something. 

“Sweetheart,” leans forward, his hands on the mattress, “can I kiss you?” 

Your lip quivers. He says it’s okay. She’s not mad. So it must be... 

Can you really say no? It’s their house. They welcomed you in and if you leave... what do you do? Go back to Andy? 

You nod, “okay.” 

She smile and moves towards you slowly. He leans over your knees and cradles your face. Your nerves go haywire, fiery as they ping off of each other. You dreamt of this. His hands on you, gentle and patient, him bending his head, his lips inches from yours. Your mouths meet and sparks fly. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to forget the other body in the room. He hums and you put your hand on his arm, bracing him as you push your lips against his. His tongue pokes around and you open your mouth. It’s much nicer than kissing Andy. 

He moves closer, keeping his mouth on yours. His hand crawls up your leg and he urges your knees apart. You unlock them and he moves between them. He lays you down slowly, delving deep into your mouth, devouring you. You’re breathless and windswept by his intensity. 

His lips slip down your cheek and his hand creeps down your body. He tugs at your sweater, rolling it up your torso. He pushes it up and up and up. You raise your arms and he parts as he pulls it above your head. He sweeps it off your arms and throws it away. 

He falls on you again as you squeak. He crushes you beneath him as he kisses you fervently, hungrily. You feel his need against you. 

“Mm, honey, you’re such a tease,” Ann taunts and your lashes flick. 

He draws back, “relax, sweetheart,” he pets your cheek and once more smothers your lips. 

He growls into your mouth, rolling his hips against you, pushing his rigid excitement against your naked pelvis. You whine and squeeze his shoulder, your other hand clasping around the front of his shirt. The friction fills you with torturous heat. 

He parts again, kissing the tip of your nose, then your forehead, your cheeks, your jawline. He slides down your body leaving a speckling of kisses along your flesh. He feels the thin fabric of your bra and nips at each tit, burying his face between them. 

“You always play with your food,” Ann’s shadow shifts and she sits in the chair in the corner.  

You can’t see much past Steve’s shoulders as he bends over you, dragging himself back. He lowers himself to his stomach and hooks his hands around your thighs. His hot breath scours over your cunt and you gasp. You push yourself up on your elbows and watch him nuzzle the patch of coarse curls. 

He flicks is tongue between your folds quickly and you twitch. He does it again and you react just the same. He purrs and delves his tongue down along your lips and swipes it up slowly. His eyes stick to yours as you watch dumbly. 

He centres on your clit and seals his lips around it, sucking as you cry out at the sparkling pressure. Your arms collapse and fall flat on your back. You arch as he hums and pushes your legs against the sides of his head. He rocks his head, growling as he laps you up, moving you with him. 

Your fingers curls and you drag them up and down your stomach, leaving hot lines as you writhe and moan. You reach down and feel his thick waves, clutching them as you push your pelvis into him. He is so warm, so delicate, so delightful. He’s nicer than you could ever dream. 

Shallow puffs scrape from your throat and your chest rises and falls. Your voice escapes in little mewls and moans, piquing as you tug on his hair and quake. You cum, feeling how you slicken in his mouth, how his tongue spread around your pleasure. That sensation tingles through you from head to toe. 

Your eyes snap up as suddenly a hand frames your chin. Ann sits on the bed sideways, she’s naked. She bends over you, kissing you. You babble, weakly nudging her with your hand. Steve’s tongue swirls and has you too spastic to resist. She pulls backs, circling the tip of her nose around yours, and she sighs. 

“Steve, I want to see you in her,” she turns to face him, reaching to toy with your tits. 

He lifts himself, his face flushed, his lips and nose glistening. His eyes are alight. Your head lolls back and forth.  

Ann pulls down the cups of your bra, tweaking so you cry out. She gropes and grabs, twirling her thumb around your budding nipples. You bring your hands to your sides and clasp the blankets. 

Steve strips off his sweater, his hair messy as he drops it over the end of the bed. He stands to push down his jeans as his erection bulges inside his briefs. You gurgle as Ann continues to play with you, tickling up and down your stomach before once more fondling your chest.  

Steve rolls down his briefs and springs free. You gape at his size and tense. Ann leans down to press her cheek to yours, “relax, baby, he’s going to take good care of you.” 

She turns her head and kisses your cheek before she sits up again. Her hand dances around your torso as she purrs and watches her husband kneel between your knees. His thighs press to your and he prods along your folds. He rubs his tip against you, wetting himself, up and down, smearing your juices around. 

“Hurry up,” Ann demands. 

He exhales, his muscled chest straining as you bit your lip. He pushes against your entrance and slides into you. He inches in, little by little, and Ann leans forward. She stares between your legs as he sinks to his limit and yours. Your body racks and you reach down as you whimper. 

“Fuck...” Steve groans, his voice raspy like a snarling beast. 

“Is she tight, baby?” Ann asks, “hmm, is she?” 

“Yeah,” he pulls back and rolls back in. You moan and grip your own hips as your toes curl. “She’s squeezing me so good.” 

“Keep fucking her,” Ann sneers, “fuck her good.” 

Ann bounces around the bed, hovering next to her husband, pressing against him as she reaches to squeeze his ass. She kisses his shoulder as he groans and rocks his hips smoothly into you. Your eyes roll back as your walls quiver. 

“You better fill her up,” Ann snarls, “I want her leaking with you, baby.” 

He ruts into you hard, jolting you as your legs splay around him limply. He squeezes your thighs, holding you in place as he speeds up thrust by thrust. You look down hazily. He snaps his hips as Ann brings her hand over one of his. She hums and leans her head against him. 

“Are you going to cum?” She taunts, “huh, baby, are you gonna gush inside of her? You going to make a mess...” 

“Stop--” he hisses. 

“Come on, she’s almost there,” she reaches to put her thumb on your clit, rolling it around until you’re whining. “Baby girl, go on and cum on his dick.” She presses harder as you tense, “do it.” 

You push your head back and your chest up. You orgasm as Steve keeps his rhythm. You clench around him, clinging to him as he groans and grunts. He slams into you, over and over, his voice drone out of him through gaspy breaths. 

“That’s it, you fill her up nice and good,” Ann flicks your oversensitive clit, “oh, bad boy, cumming in your own patient. What a bad doctor.” 

He slows and your body goes slack. As he stops, still half inside of you, you feel his cum trickling down from your cunt. You blink and peek down at him as he hangs his head. Ann rubs his arm and he shrugs her off. He slides out and backs off the bed. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” He growls under his breath as he snatch his pants off the floor. 

He pulls them on, leaving them undone as he holds them up and stalks to the door. She giggles and watches him go. She sighs and looks at you as the door snaps shut. 

“He can be so sensitive,” she wiggles her fingers between your folds and you tremble, “just like you, huh?” 

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #librarian au #steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #fresh #defending jacob #don't speak

[highonmarvel]

You didn’t need that, did you?

Steve Kemp: You meet a man at the bar who loves your thighs.

An entry for Day 3 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: You didn’t need that, did you?, ft Steve Kemp, Fresh (2022).

Warnings: Complete filth; very subtle cannibalistic tendencies; implied surgical mutilation. 18+!

An hour you had been sitting on an uncomfortable barstool, slowly sipping on drinks. You don’t even know why you came, maybe you thought it would be fun, maybe you thought you’d meet someone; neither of those was the case.

You drop your head on your shoulder, face to the right at the stool that had been empty seconds ago, you could have sworn. You startle slightly at the sight, though you’re not unpleasantly surprised; a man with odd cerulean eyes, a sharp jawline and a debonair smirk has his head tilted your way.

“Did I scare you?”

He asks. It seems lighthearted, you know it is, but really deep in your stomach you feel a twist of some kind, barely, though, your senses hyper focused on how he’s making you feel with his hungry gaze. Hungry.

“A little,” you admit with a small smile, taking the last sip of your drink.

He lets out a breathy laugh and offers, “Can I buy you another?”

Steve, is his name, and for the rest of the night, he’s absolutely magnetic as he speaks, but you can barely comprehend what he’s saying, trying desperately to keep the conversation going when there’s just this burning between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some form of friction, subtly. He had to have noticed.

You hadn’t even noticed how close he was until he brushes his fingers over your knee, just under the hem of your dress, and your sentence is cut off with a choked gasp; you can tell by the amused smirk on his face he’s having fun with this, but you can’t even find it in you to spew a witty remark when all you can think about is how good he would feel.

You shift once more a little closer to him, trying to get his hands to budge up a little further. He smooths his palms over the sides of your knees and up your thighs; hooking his fingers under your flesh, he rubs soothing circles with his thumbs.

“You’re burning up,” he notes, maybe more to himself than to you, yet steel blue eyes holding you hostage with that heated gaze; you swear his pupils have dilated.

You can’t respond, afraid if you open your mouth it’ll only be a pathetic whimper that comes out, but you don’t need to.

He changes his circular movements to the opposite direction. He leans in so close it scares you how little self control you’re working on right now.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. Maybe that fact it didn’t even sound like a question should have you hearing faint alarm bells, but all you can hear is your own heartbeat and his low voice.

You’re nodding in earnest before he’s even finished his sentence, and soon you’re both rushing out the bar. You slide into the passenger seat of an expensive looking car you can’t care to name as you wonder how on earth you’re gonna control yourself on the drive.

You give him your address and soon he’s got you up against your bedroom wall, harsh breaths being exchanged between heated kisses as his hands roam your body.

He practically throws you onto the bed and you giggle, bouncing once before he’s pulled you by your ankles, legs hanging over the edge of the bed as he rests his head between your thighs.

He runs his palms over your thighs, admiring them like they’re perfectly sculpted.

“Fuck, you’re so soft…” he drawls as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, rubbing his cheeks across your supple flesh. He bites you and you jerk, hands flying to his hair and tugging, just trying to get his mouth to where it needs to be, you’re fucking soaked.

He runs his hands up and then down your sides and grips your hips harsh enough to leave half moon dents in your skin you’re sure you’ll see the marks of tomorrow, as he pulls your heat closer to him.

“I know you taste good…”

…

The next morning you wake up sore; an ache between your legs was to be expected, but this was a dull throbbing from the top of your right leg. You reach a hand down to feel it, but running your hand down you stop short, your fingers falling to a mattress—a mattress that had to have been thinner than yours—your leg ending much sooner than you expected, much soon that it should.

You gasp and sit up with much effort, throwing a thin white sheet off of you to get a look at your right thigh.

At the sound of a shifting chair your head snaps up; Steve is seated by a door, leaning forward towards you.

“You didn’t need that, did you?”

♯

#sintember 2023 #steve kemp x reader #dark steve kemp x reader #dark steve kemp x you #dark!steve kemp #dark steve kemp #steve kemp x y/n #dark!steve kemp x reader #steve kemp smut

[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

#lila writes #chris evans #sebastian stan #pete's place #dark au #dark verse #steve kemp #bucky barnes #andy barber #mike weiss #lee bodecker #johnny storm moodboard #lila's concepts #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #dark chris evans fic #dark sebastian stan #seb stan gifs #seb stan fics #sebastian stan fic

[bunnyscraft]

Game on, Barnes

Bucky x Brat!Reader pt1 18+

Summary: Drunk reader and protective Bucky. Series Warnings: Dom Bucky, Brat reader Dom/sub undertones, daddy kink, handcuffs, smut next chapter lol, alcohol, knife kink.

- “Bucky. No.”

- “Doll. Yes.”

This had been going on for a while now. Bucky trying to handle drunk you and drunk you stubbornly avoiding his help. Nope. Nope. Tonight was meant for you, Natasha, and Wanda to get plastered and while you were very tempted to give into your convincing boyfriend, you’d waited all week for this.

How he knew you were here, you didn’t even know. You decided that maybe it would be best to leave out some details of what your girls night would consist of. You didn’t enjoy keeping him out of the loop but Bucky tended to be a bit….protective? Not to mention the whole team knew of you being a lightweight so if he were to find out you’d be out drinking with someone like Natasha, he’d definitely object.

- “baby…I’m not going to ask again. Drink the water now before I pry your mouth open and pour it down your throat.” He seethed. His voice was harsh and deep, stirring something inside you. It almost convinced you to obey him. Almost.

You pushed you body against his chest, hands slowly making their way underneath his Henley. His skin was hot under your fingers as you rubbed circles on his chest. Looking up at his face you saw that he was doing his best to ignore the affect your touch had on him as he refused to make eye contact.

- “Cmon daddy….I can think of a better way to use my throat” you whined, suddenly desperate for him.

The sudden use of his favorite nickname causes his eyes to snap down to yours. You were a mess but to Bucky you still looked angelic, even with you drunken blush, messy hair, and glassy eyes.

- “yeah babydoll? You done being a brat and ready to be my good girl?” Bucky hummed as he rubbed circles on your hips. Fuck he wanted you right now.

His patronizing tone had your stubbornness melting away, you now ready to please Bucky. - “yes daddy. M’sorry” you pouted. “ jus’ wanna go home and be your good girl.”

As soon as the words left your mouth Bucky placed and assertive kiss to your lips and threw you over his shoulder already marching out of the club and towards your shared apartment. You letting out drunk giggles the whole way there.

~~~~~

- “I hate you.”

- “I love you, babydoll.”

- “If you loved me you would have handcuffed me to our bed and fucked me!” You all but cried. “not handcuff me to our bed and tell me to sleep!” You sobbed out as you thrashed to show your frustration. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at your childishness from you not getting what you want.

“I promise I’ll fuck your in the morning baby” he tried to compromise in between laughs, only fueling your anger.

- “but…but I’m horny now! Please Bucky!” You screeched as you saw Bucky get into his side of the bed.

- “I can’t fuck you while you’re in this state babydoll. It’d make me feel like I’m using you” he cooed in an attempt to call you down as he gently cupped your jaw.

- “I want you to use me!” You huffed laying it on thick in hopes he’d give in.

- “I swear on my soul, I’ll use you sooo much tomorrow, baby.”

- “……promise?”

- “pinky promise.” He swore as he brought his metal pinky finger up to your cuffed one.

- “can you at least take these off?” You questioned, motioning to the metal holding your arms above your head.

- “oh no. I can’t. You’re simply too dangerous. You’ll jump my bones the second you get the chance” he exaggerated, before turning off your lamp, leaving you both in complete darkness.

- “good night, sweetheart.” Bucky cooed with a kiss, only to receive a huff from you.

“………”

“………….”

“…………….goodnight, Bucky”

you just couldn’t go to bed without a goodnight. After all he really did love you, even if he cuffed you up to keep you from fucking.

But you’d get him back.

Just when he least expected it.

Game on, Barnes.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨🖤୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Taglist 🏷

@themotherofhorses @yessirsargeantbarnes @mgkbabygirl @thedarthpancakes @openup-wide @booksandbenbarnes

#bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #steve x bucky #bucky barns x y/n #the winter solider smut #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader #daddy Bucky x reader #dark bucky x reader #steve kemp x reader #steve rogers #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

[sgt-seabass]

I heard you escaped Steve's home!

But is the man you bump into in the woods a friend or foe?

𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏

✧˚ · . 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘒𝘦𝘮𝘱. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.

pairing — werewolf!bucky x reader w/c — 1.8k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. listening to — ♫ dark side of the moon, suisside warnings — general dark elements, allusion to steve kemp being a cannibal and holding women captive, reader is missing her left arm, non-major character death, reference to violence, reference to stabbing injury, werewolves lol, smut, non-con turned dub-con (p in v sex), breeding kink, knotting, tongue play kinda, possessiveness, monsterfucking, a kinda nice ending lol a/n — written on my phone. not beta read. navy you fucking menace look what you made me do 😌 thank you to @rookthorne for letting me scream at you about this.

You’d done it.

Steve was dead.

After the locking mechanism to your cell had failed due to a storm overhead, you’d managed to get hold of a butcher's knife in the kitchen.

Steve hadn’t seen it coming when you plunged the knife into his chest while he napped on the couch. He didn’t die immediately. There was a struggle, and you sustained a stab wound to your side when Steve almost overpowered you.

It was hard as Steve had already given you a disadvantage. Several days ago, he had taken your left arm for his sick purpose.

But he was too weak from your sneak attack, and he collapsed on top of you with his dying wheeze.

You’d tried to free other girls, but you were the only one left. And when you’d found Steve’s phone, you were unsurprised to find there was no reception because of the heavy rain that battered down on the roof.

You dressed in one of Steve’s warm sweaters and sweatpants, tucking his phone into your pocket to keep it safe from the rain.

The left sleeve of the sweatshirt swinging empty, covered in his blood and your own, you stumbled out into the night.

The rain was pouring down, lightning flashing across the sky before the thunder rumbled. It was the kind of weather that made you want to snuggle into bed with a book and a cup of tea. Instead, you were stuck trying to find a neighbouring property.

Your bare feet sunk into the muddy earth as you dragged yourself into the woods surrounding Steve’s property.

Asshole. Living in the middle of nowhere.

You cursed Steve’s decrepit soul as you wandered into the forest. The flashes of light helped you make your way through the darkened trees, but it felt as if you were walking in circles, with no sense of direction to guide you.

After some time, you stopped for a break, your legs tired, and your body fatigued. You leant against the trunk of a tree, breaths coming out in short pants. Finally, the rain began to ease, the storm passing. The clouds opened up, allowing the moon to be revealed.

You marvelled at it for a moment—a beautiful full moon.

If this is where you were destined to die, it was pretty at least.

The sounds of wolf cries into the night sounded, but they fell on deaf ears as you focused on keeping yourself conscious.

Your hand clutched at your left side where Steve had stabbed you, the wound throbbing and making you woozy. Maybe you could rest a little. Just sit and close your eyes for a while.

You slumped against the bark, your legs beginning to give way as your vision blurred with a vignette at the edges. Was this your final curtain call?

The wind howled through the trees as you fell to your side, your blood mixing with the mud. You were just so tired.

Another cacophony of animals sounded, growls and barks nearby. But it didn’t matter, not when your body was ready to bid the moon an eternal goodnight.

With a grunt, you rolled onto your back, tears swelling as you gazed at the glowing full moon.

I’m not ready to die. Mr Moon, won’t you grant me a second chance?

Your eyes closed, and everything went dark and silent.

It was hard to discern what you noticed first as you came to.

Was it the snarling and panting? The wet slobber of a large tongue across your skin? The fur that tickled you? Or the cock that was nestled at your entrance?

Definitely the last one.

You opened your eyes with a gasp, and you screamed at the sight of the thing on top of you.

A monster. Pearly white sharp teeth, a large imposing figure, and dark fur that covered its whole body.

You were pinned down on your back by a werewolf. Like a picture book come to life.

The wolf-man didn’t seem perturbed by your screams. He was feral enough as it was. His drool dripped from his snout onto your chest, your clothes already torn away while you were unconscious.

Shit, the phone. You tried to sit up to find it, but large claws dug into your skin as a warning not to move.

“Are you going to kill me?” It was a bold move asking the beast a question, but he didn’t answer, instead licking a long stripe up your neck and over your cheek.

The werewolf licked at your side where your wound was, and you gasped when you glanced down to see it healed. Did he save you?

“What—? I— I don’t understand—“ You were silenced when the wolf brought his tongue to your lips, invading your mouth with his wet muscle.

You tried to squirm, but the beast held tight as he fucked your mouth with his tongue, his huffs getting deeper as growls rumbled from him.

His inhumanly large cock prodded at your entrance, your eyes going wide when you felt the way his natural lubricant gave him an easy slide in.

The werewolf pulled back with a howl as he sunk himself into your waiting heat, his fur puffing up and tail going rigid.

It was all too much. You’d expected death, and yet, you were at the mercy of a beast instead. The pleasure that came the deeper he got, and the more he stretched you was enough to have you howling too.

You felt full to the brim, and he was just over halfway. “Ah! Stop! You’re not going to fit!”

But the beast kept going. He curled his arms around you, cradling you against the forest floor before biting into your collarbone to stabilise himself.

He ignored your cries as he rutted deeper, rocking your body with his as he made you take his entire length.

You felt a little ridge when he reached the fuzzy fur at the base of his cock, and it was enough to have your nerves alight with arousal.

The scent of this mysterious man had your head swirling as if you had inhaled an aphrodisiac. His very being was turning your body into what he needed. A fleshlight to fuck his seed into.

He kept you close, sweat beginning to sheen across your skin with the heat radiating from him. When the beast started to thrust deep and hard, your fingers dug into his fur to hold on.

The beast whimpered when you touched him, and you properly got a look at him. Hulking and massive with red eyes that shone like a bright ruby. He was breathtakingly beautiful in a morbid way. A beautiful horror you couldn’t look away from.

You ran your hands down his arms, only then noticing that one arm wasn’t furry at all. It was metal, but the appendage had taken a beastly form too, so it suited the rest of him. It was his left arm, just like yours.

When your eyes met, the wolf thrust particularly deep, causing you to moan out. And you could swear there was almost a smile on his snout.

Resuming his brutal pace, the werewolf began fucking without resolve, like nothing more than an animal desperate for its primal release.

You had no choice but to hold on as he bit into your shoulder, holding you still like his prey as he panted and groaned, cock swelling bigger as he started getting rougher.

“Fuck! I can’t—“ A large paw covered your mouth, silencing any further words.

You were ready to keep protesting until the beast changed his angle, his sharp nailed feet digging into the dirt, and the bulbous tip of his cock pounding against your g-spot.

Stars burst behind your eyes, and your body began to shake uncontrollably from the absolute bliss that took over.

He didn’t stop. And before long, your toes began to curl as an orgasm approached.

Sensing your tensing body, the werewolf growled in your ear as if he was beckoning you to cum for him.

You let go, allowing the intense orgasm to wash over you.

Your sounds were muffled behind the man-beast’s paw as you came, your feet kicking at his back and ass as you shook. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

The wolf watched it all, drinking in the sight of you.

You felt the ridge at the end of his cock begin to get bigger, the ring of muscle catching at your entrance. It was a little painful as the knot pulled at your entrance with each feral thrust, but luckily the werewolf buried himself deep.

His pelvis ground against you as he whimpered and yipped.

An odd barked growl was the only warning you got before the knot swelled fully and plugged you.

The first shoot of cum entered you, and you moaned at how warm it was. Just like the rest of him. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself just to feel as you were filled with the seemingly never-ending stream of release.

The wolf moved his paw from your mouth, placing it on your belly where his seed was planted deep.

It gave you tingles, how his nails raked across your skin, not enough to cut but enough to leave marks.

He massaged your belly, causing some of the cum to seep around his knot, the pressure too much. You cried out, placing a hand over his to stop him. It felt odd.

The wolf looked at you, his head quirking and blood-red eyes narrowing. Was he insulted you tried to stop him?

“Mine.”

You were shocked at the deep timbre and surprisingly sultry tone of the werewolf. It was the first word he’d spoken, and it was enough to have your thighs clenching against his hips.

“It’s too much when you—“

“Mine.”

Alright. So he wasn’t a conversationalist. “Y-Yes. I got that bit. Uhm. Please don’t push on my—“

“Mine. Home.”

“Stop cutting me off— Wait. Home?” You asked incredulously, confused by the new word in the wolf’s vocabulary. But it started to make more sense when the man-beast picked you up, holding you to his chest as his knot kept you connected. He was taking you home.

He began walking, and you sighed at the sight of your clothes and Steve’s phone discarded in the mud.

So much for an escape.

“Do you have a name?” You conceded. If the beast was taking you home, the least you could do was know his name. Although, maybe he’d turn human again? What would he look like?

“Bucky.”

“Thanks for healing me, Bucky.” You murmured awkwardly, and the beast huffed in response. His knot finally let you go, so he moved you to his hip, carrying you like precious cargo even when his fur began to get wet with the cum that seeped from your core. “Do you know more than three words?”

“Mine. Home. Bucky. Mine.”

An amused snort left you. “That’s… not what I meant.”

You curled yourself into the werewolf’s fur. Despite the circumstances, he saved you. He made you feel good when all you’d experienced was pain and suffering.

For the first time in a long while, a smile graced your lips. This was undoubtedly a fate better than death.

“Pretty girl. Pretty smile.”

You glanced down, embarrassed from the compliment, just in time to see Bucky’s tail begin to wag. “So you do know more than three words.”

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