#brendan steven kemp x reader

[cece693]

Absolutely love your works💗

Could you please do some Hannibal Lecter x Steve Kemp? Mads and Sebastian are literally the hottest. Two cannibalistic serial killers in a room, they might kiss (or maybe fall in love)? ( ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°)💞

So, I didn't really know who Steve was, but a quick google search put me up to date. And from what I'm gathering, he's just a more sadistic (is that the word?) man compared to Hannibal. Like, don't get me wrong, Hannibal isn't innocent, but he doesn't indulge people's pain if it isn't necessary (everything he does serves a greater purpose) but for Steve he thrives off it. I'm intrigued by his character (not ashamed to admit it, he might become a regular if the movie's good.) I don't know if your request only wanted to feature these two characters, but I couldn't help myself to include a male reader. Hope you enjoy it still!

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader x steve kemp tags: you're also a cannibalistic killer, pre-relationship, monsters love too, or whatever they consider love at least, can we even call it that if you're at the first stages of your relationship?, au in a way

You didn’t expect this. Of all the places your macabre interests could lead you, you never thought you’d end up in a dimly lit dining room with two men whose reputations precede them in the darkest corners of rumor and legend. Yet here you are, stepping carefully across the polished floor—every tap of your heel against the marble echoing in your chest.

Hannibal Lecter stands beside a candlelit table as though hosting a dinner party for the most discerning of guests. He wears a tailored suit that hangs perfectly off his slim frame, his dark eyes never leaving you. His posture is regal, almost too poised, like a cat preparing to pounce. Across from him, leaning against a wall with an air of cool dismissal, is Steve Kemp. Where Lecter is refined, Kemp is rough around the edges—swagger in his stance, a slight smirk curving his lips. You can almost sense their energies clash in the room’s heavy air, or perhaps they harmonize, each man possessing that brand of charisma only monsters can wear so effortlessly.

It’s a meeting of twisted minds, a singularly dangerous gathering, and you…You’re the third seat at this table, the new confidant in their circle of secrets. They’ve invited you here because—like them—you walk the fine line between polite society and your appetite for its darker aspects. Maybe they want to see if you can keep up. Maybe they want to see if you’re worthy to indulge in their most prized pleasures.

“Please,” Hannibal says, voice smooth as silk, gesturing to the empty chair. The flickering candles give his expression a strangely tender glow. “Join us, won’t you?”

You settle onto the chair, heart pounding yet oddly thrilled. Kemp eyes you with guarded curiosity, as if he’s deciding whether you’re truly made of the same raw stuff as they are. He lifts a corner of his mouth in an almost friendly greeting before lifting a wine glass to his lips.

Hannibal’s sharp gaze flicks between you and Kemp, faint amusement dancing across his face. “I must say, it’s an intriguing opportunity to break bread”—his tone curls around that phrase knowingly—“with someone of equal taste.”

Kemp snorts a laugh, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Taste. That’s one way to put it.”

Silence settles over you three for a moment. You feel your pulse drum in your ears as you realize that, in this hush, none of you are exactly concerned with covering up who or what you are. Not anymore. The three of you are cannibals—each in different stages of mastery, each with unique philosophies of the “art.” There’s a thrill in acknowledging it openly.

“Shall we toast?” you suggest, forcing your voice to remain steady as you raise your glass. They both follow your lead, though each with a different glint in his eye. Kemp’s is mischievous—like a child about to break a rule just for the fun of it. Hannibal’s is calculating and darkly pleased, as though everything is going exactly as he’d planned. Glasses clink lightly, crystal against crystal, and you all drink. The wine is robust, luxurious, and red as blood.

Conversation flows with surprising ease. You trade stories of near misses—close calls with the authorities, how you lured a target that one time when the moonlight was just right, how Hannibal managed to remain undetected for so many years. Kemp leans forward, describing a particularly brutal hunt out in some isolated countryside. You can’t help noticing how intently Hannibal listens, how his lips curve whenever Kemp’s story peaks in violence.

In turn, Hannibal recounts one of his finer “culinary experiences,” discussing it with the flair of a man describing a Michelin-star dish. There’s something entrancing about how he moves his hands in emphasis, voice hushed but warm. Each word holds a promise of something new and forbidden. And, on Kemp’s face, you catch a flicker of fascination and something deeper—a grudging admiration, perhaps.

Hours seem to pass without any of you noticing, the candles burning low, the wine dwindling. Every so often, your gaze flickers to the door, but there’s a compulsion in you to stay. They’re dangerous, yes—but so are you. And there’s something heady about being in a room with people who truly understand that side of you, who won’t flinch at your confessions or grimace at your appetites.

When Lecter rises to pick out another bottle of wine from a discreet sideboard, Kemp edges closer, regarding you with a tilt of his head. “He likes to make it all elegant,” he says quietly, casting a glance at Hannibal’s back. “Me? I prefer the chase. But I’ve got to admit, there’s something about the way he does it that gets under your skin. Under mine.”

You’re about to reply when Hannibal’s voice floats over, smooth and cool. “If you have something to say, Steve, please share with the group.”

Kemp’s eyes widen fractionally in annoyance, then he snorts. “Just telling our friend here how you’re a man of unique refinement.”

A faint smile ghosts across Hannibal’s lips. “I take that as a compliment.”

It’s not long before you notice the way Hannibal’s gaze drifts across Kemp’s features—no longer just polite or calculating. There’s a curious softness there, tinged with hunger that extends beyond the culinary. It’s in the long glances, the brush of fingers as Hannibal offers Kemp the fresh glass. It’s in the whisper of breath between them as they stand too close for a moment. Kemp, at first, seems unsure how to respond, but he doesn’t pull away.

You sense it too: a sharp tension thickening in the air, a shift from cautious rivalry to something that resonates dangerously between them. You’ve heard stories about Hannibal’s affections—rare, but potent. And clearly, Steve Kemp isn’t immune to that magnetism.

Then Hannibal’s hand comes up gently to rest along Kemp’s cheek, his thumb grazing across the man’s jawline. You hear a whispered breath escape Kemp’s lips, though you can’t tell if it’s a sigh or a growl. It’s a moment suspended in time: two apex predators testing a new type of closeness. You meet Hannibal’s dark gaze. He inclines his head, as though letting you witness the moment or inviting you closer—perhaps both. There’s a flutter in your stomach, an odd blend of fear and excitement. After all, there is no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on you and yet you inch forward, transfixed.

Kemp’s mouth curves into a half-smile as he leans ever so slightly toward Hannibal’s touch. “Not exactly what I expected,” he murmurs, his voice unsteady but laced with a rough undercurrent of desire.

Hannibal’s response is quiet and almost tender: “Life rarely meets our expectations, Steve. Sometimes, it surpasses them.”

Their lips brush, a hesitant meeting that holds a thousand questions in the space of a heartbeat. You wonder if you’re meant to see this, but neither man hides it. And then, in a breath, Hannibal presses just a bit closer, tasting Kemp’s mouth with the careful precision of a connoisseur sampling a forbidden delicacy.

The flickering candlelight catches the reflection of something like acceptance—maybe even longing—in Kemp’s eyes. When they part, the air is thick with the echo of that moment. You realize your breathing has become ragged, goosebumps prickling your arms.

Silence stretches. Your heart feels like it could burst from the tension. Then Kemp speaks, his voice low, directed to you. “So, what do you say?” He glances from you to Hannibal. “Think you can handle being part of…this?”

There’s an unspoken meaning behind his words: not just the partnership in their dark proclivities, but the melding of your shared hungers, your deviance, and the possibility of more. In a way, they’re asking if you can stand in this circle—equal, accepted, involved. You swallow hard, your throat dry, but manage to nod.

A small smile graces Hannibal’s lips as he arches one brow, pleased by your answer. He takes a step toward you, bridging the distance. Behind him, Kemp watches, his smile both relaxed and knowing. You tense for an instant, uncertain if this nearness is safe, but deep down, you’ve never wanted safety. Not really. Hannibal lowers his voice. “Fear can be so exhilarating when shared in the right company, don’t you think?”

You nod, though you can’t quite find words. Even if you could, you’re not sure they’d convey the cocktail of emotions surging through you. Hunger, fear, curiosity, desire—all laced with an electric undercurrent that only these two can bring out in you.

Kemp steps up beside Lecter, and the three of you stand there, locked in a moment that feels as though it could spiral into either violence or intimacy—or both—at any second. There’s a shared understanding in your eyes: that you’re each too far gone into your own darkness for any illusions of normalcy. And strangely enough, that’s the one thing that binds you together.

When Hannibal and Kemp exchange another glance, you feel the tension mount again, as though they’re both inviting you to lean in, to let go of any last scraps of hesitation and join them in something that’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

And so you do.

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

The Last Supper

Pairing: Steven Kemp x Reader

Summary: On the night everything is supposed to end, one unexpected revelation turns the plan upside down, forcing a reckoning neither of you saw coming.

Wordcount: 460

Warnings: druging a person, talks about death and killing.

A/N: I re-watched Fresh last night, and this idea came to my mind.

Steve Kemp never thought of himself as a monster. At least, not the kind that felt regret. But the moment he took you, something changed. You weren’t like the others, those blurred faces, fading names. You were fiery, Defiant, and clever. Soft when you thought he wasn’t looking. The weeks turned into months, and your presence in the cold, hidden basement of his secluded house became necessary.

You should’ve feared him. And you did at first. But there was a shift, slow and strange. You saw more than the killer. You saw the man. And somehow, despite the chains and the horror, something between the two of you simmered. Something twisted. Something real.

But Steve knew it couldn’t last.

The others were gone, and you had seen too much. You knew his name. His voice. The faint scar beneath his right eye. And deep down, he knew you’d never truly forgive him. Love couldn’t grow in a cage, could it?

So he made a decision. One final night. One beautiful dinner. You’d go peacefully. No fear. No screaming. Just sleep.

He set the table upstairs, candles flickering, wine poured. You wore the dress he left for you on the bed. You didn’t speak as he unlocked the door. Just looked at him, calm. Accepting.

You ate in silence at first. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. You smiled faintly at the food. Complimented the wine. Said it was sweet.

His heart ached. The drug was already dissolving in your bloodstream.

“You’re quiet,” you whispered.

“So are you.”

“I just… I wanted to tell you something.” You reached into your pocket, hands trembling. “I wasn’t sure how to say it.”

You placed something on the table between you two.

A pregnancy test. Positive.

Steve’s world collapsed.

“What…?” His voice cracked. He stared at the tiny stick as if it had killed him.

“You didn’t use protection, Steve.” Your eyes glazed over, blinking slowly. “I thought you should know before… before it’s too late…”

Then you slumped forward, head hitting the table with a soft thud.

“No—nononono—Y/N!” He was out of his chair, catching you before you fell further. “No, you weren’t supposed to—not now!”

He cradled you in his arms, heart pounding with realization.

You were carrying his child. And he had just tried to kill them both.

For the first time in his life, Steve Kemp was terrified, not of being caught, not of dying, but of losing you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, voice shaking. “I messed up. But I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix this…”

And in that dark house, with a heartbeat fading and a secret just born, Steve Kemp knew his story wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.

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[keithyp00]

‧₊˚✧𝄞 Just One Dance 𝄞‎✧˚₊‧

Pairing: Steve Kemp x f!reader

Warnings/Tags: dark romance, psychological tension & manipulation, slow-burn intimacy, implied past captivity, morally ambiguous dynamics, dark undertones masked by romantic softness, implied intimacy/sex

Word Count: 2.1K

Author Note: Good afternoon or morning of whatever for you guys! This is an experimental one-shot for me and it won't be going onto the masterlist unless I decide that it does well enough to post another few :) BUT, for those of you that are reading my stories for the first time, please go check out my Bucky Barnes fics cuz I'm really proud of them. Thank you!

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

The music plays softly from the old record player in the corner of the room- something jazzy, low, warm like honey. Steve hums along under his breath, eyes cast downward as he arranges the last few bites of dinner on your plate. The air smells like butter and seared meat, rosemary wafting from the skillet like a comfort you no longer trust.

You sit at the table, fingers curled around the wine glass he poured for you, watching him move with precise ease. He's barefoot. His sleeves are rolled. His lips twitch upward, like he knows you're watching.

You hate how good he looks like this. Like a man. Not a monster.

"Do you like it?" He asks, gesturing to the food he plated for you.

You nod. "It's good."

"You always say that." He chuckles and leans on the back of the chair across from you. "But you barely eat."

You glance down at the plate, then back at him. "Still working on trust."

His smile falters. Just for a second. Then it's back, polished and gentle. "Fair enough."

He walks over to the record player and adjusts the volume slightly. The room seems smaller now. Softer. You take another sip of wine just to try and keep your hands busy.

Then, unexpectedly, he turns and reaches out a hand.

"Dance with me."

Your eyes flick to his. "What?"

He shrugs. "Just one dance."

You stare at him for a moment, stunned by how calm he sounds. As if asking you to slow dance in his kitchen isn't completely deranged. As if he didn't once keep you locked in a place with no windows and bring you meals like he was a lover instead of a captor.

He doesn't retract his hand.

"Steve..."

"One song," he says. "I won't touch you again after. Unless you ask."

There's something so sincere in his face that it unsettles you more than any knife ever could.

You set your glass down and slowly stand. Your hand slips into his.

His palm is warm, large, fingers gentle as they curve around yours. He brings you close, but not too close. His other hand rests lightly on your waist, not gripping, just there. Like he's testing his own restraint.

You sway together in the kitchen's dim lighting. The record crackles. He's humming again- quiet, tuneful, careful.

The silence between you stretches, filled only with the music and the soft shift of your breath. He's looking at you like you're fragile. Or precious. You can't decide which one scares you more.

"I used to dream about this," he murmurs.

You tilt your head. "Dancing with someone in your kitchen?"

He chuckles. "No. I mean... being seen. Being known. And still being wanted."

You don't reply. Your stomach twists. But you don't stop dancing.

His thumb brushes against the back of your hand. "I know I'm not... forgiven," he starts. "But I like to think I could be something else now. For you."

The words slide under your skin like silk, leaving something sticky behind.

"Why me?" You ask quietly.

Steve's gaze lowers, his smile wistful. "Because you stayed."

You feel the weight of that. The implication. The truth: you could've left. He let you. A long time ago.

But something kept you here. Some part of you wanted to understand him. Wanted to know the shape of that monster- and what was left underneath it.

The song fades to its last few notes. Steve releases your hand just as he had promised.

But you don't step back.

He watches you, cautious hope flickering in his expression like the last light before dusk.

You rest your palm against his chest, where you can feel his heart thudding- fast, anxious.

His hand rises to cover yours, fingers trembling just barely.

"I don't know what this is," you whisper.

"Me neither," he says.

The record starts another song. A softer one. Slower.

You close your eyes and rest your forehead against his shoulder.

And this time, he doesn't ask. He just pulls you close.

~~~~~

The second song begins. Slower, older- something soulful that sounds like it was meant for this exact moment, vinyl and dim lighting.

Steve holds you like he's afraid to break something. One hand at the small of your back, the other gently cradling your wrist where it rests against his chest. His body is tense, but his touch is reverent. Worshipful. Like he can't believe you're still here.

Neither can you.

His breath stirs the hair near your ear. "You smell like jasmine."

You blink. "It's the soap."

"I like it," he murmurs. "It suits you."

His voice has that low, soothing lilt he uses when he wants to disarm you. You know it well. You also know you've let him. Again. You let him pull you into this- this almost-romance. This illusion of safety that only works because you stopped asking what was real.

His fingers slide up your back, slowly, until they rest between your shoulder blades.

"I've changed," he whispers.

You laugh softly- too softly to sound bitter. "You say that a lot."

He leans back slightly to look at you. His eyes are clear. Open. The kind of look he gives you when he's not trying to seduce you, but reach you.

"I'm not asking you to forget," he says. "Just... to see me now."

"I do," you murmur. "That's the problem."

The music pulses, low and rhythmic. You're too close now. His body is warm against yours. Familiar.

You feel the moment shift- when the air thickens and something unspoken hums beneath your skin.

He leans in just slightly, his nose brushing against your temple, down to your cheek. "You want me to stop?"

Your breath hitches. "Do you want me to say yes?"

He smiles- but it's not smug. It's soft. Like a secret. "No," he admits. "But I will."

He doesn't move. He doesn't kiss you. He just waits.

And that's what breaks you.

Because this man- who once stole everything from you- is giving you the choice now.

And you hate that part of you that wants to give in.

So you do.

You lean in and press your lips to his- tentative, searching, unsure.

He exhales shakily, like he's been holding his breath for years, His hand comes up to your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek, and he kisses you back like he's starved- but careful. Like he doesn't want to scare you. Like this moment is sacred.

When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his.

"I'm still mad at you," you whisper.

"I know," he breathes. "I'm mad at me too."

Silence. His chest rises and falls beneath your palm. The music fades into the background, barely audible now.

"I don't forgive you," you add.

He nods. "I'm not asking you to."

Another beat.

"But you're staying with me tonight, aren't you?"

You close your eyes. "Yes," you whisper. "I am."

~~~~~

The house is quiet when he leads you upstairs.

He doesn't rush. Doesn't touch you unless you offer it. His presence is magnetic, his gaze stealing glances every few steps like he's afraid you'll vanish. You feel it too- that edge, that thrill beneath your skin. This shouldn't be happening. And yet here you are, trailing after a man who once broke you open, now wanting him to put his hands on your skin like it would fix something.

You stop in the doorway to his bedroom.

It's tidy. Warm-toned. The bed is made with crisp white sheets, blankets pulled tight like he's trying to convince himself he's a clean man now. There's a single lamp lit by the nightstand, casting golden light across the room.

Steve turns to you. His eyes sweep over your face like he's memorizing it.

"You can sleep here," he says quietly. "I'll take the couch if you want."

You don't answer. Instead, you take a step forward. Then another.

You're in front of him now, close enough to smell the cologne on his collarbone again and the ghost of wine on his breath. He still hasn't touched you.

You slide your fingers up his chest, slowly, until your hands cup the sides of his neck where it meets his jawbone.

His throat works around a swallow. "Are you sure?"

You nod. "Don't make me ask again."

And then he kisses you- this time with heat.

His hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers knot in the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, greedier than you expected to be. It's dizzying, how easily your body remembers him. How quickly you crave the warmth of him, the safety he imitates so well.

He walks you back towards the bed, kissing you like he's half-drunk on it, like you're the first taste of something he doesn't deserve. When your knees hit the mattress, he pauses.

"I need to take care of you," he murmurs, eyes searching yours. "Let me."

You nod, breathless.

He helps you onto the bed like you're fragile, like the intimacy is an offering instead of a right. His hands slide under your shirt, slow and reverent. Every inch of skin he uncovers is met with his mouth, his tongue, his breath- worship instead of lust. He traces over old marks- marks he's left from the precision of a scalpel- with something that feels like regret and kisses your collarbone like he's trying to rewrite the memory of every hurting you.

And you- god- you let him.

You arch into him, your body aching with a hunger that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with being seen. Desired. Chosen in a way that's almost too gentle for the past you share.

His mouth finds yours again, deeper this time, and you whisper his name against his lips like a warning.

"Steve."

He stills, forehead resting against yours. "Say the word and I'll stop."

You search his eyes. He means it. You could break this spell. You could walk away.

But you don't.

You take his hand and guide it back to your skin. "Don't stop."

~~~~~

The room is quiet.

The kind of quiet that only happens when both bodies are spent- when nothing else needs to be said, at least for the moment. The lamp still glows dimly, casting soft light across tangled sheets and bare skin. Your breath is finally evening out, and Steve is beside you, laying on his side, head propped on one hand as he watches you like you'll disappear if he blinks.

He reaches over slowly and brushes a thumb across your cheekbone, knuckles grazing your temple. "You okay?"

His voice is gentle. Careful. You can hear the fear under it- fear of the answer, fear of how far he pushed without knowing. Because even now, after everything, he still doesn't trust himself.

You nod. "Yeah."

He studies you for a long moment. "You sure?"

You turn your head to face him. The way he's looking at you- it's too soft for someone like him. Too human. It makes your chest ache in a way you don't want to admit.

"I wouldn't have stayed if I wasn't," you say quietly.

That seems to settle something in him. His hand falls to the mattress between you. You think he might try to pull you closer, but he doesn't. He stays right there, like he's giving you space even though every part of him is leaning toward you.

You roll to your side and mirror his position. The silence stretches. This kind of silence used to terrify you- with him, especially. But now it just... feels. Heavy. Unspoken.

"You still think about it?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

His jaw clenches. "Every day."

You look at him, searching for the lie- but it's not there. His eyes are clear and quiet and full of that raw honesty that only seems to come out after midnight.

"I hated you," you admit, throat tightening. "For a long time."

"I know."

"I wanted to forget your name."

"I wanted to forget it too."

The confession hangs in the air between you. You're not sure who reaches first, but eventually your fingers find his beneath the sheets. He laces them together without hesitation.

"I don't know what this is," you say.

He nods. A silent agreement before speaking. "I think I'd like to find out."

You glance down at his hand in yours. "Even if it's not clean?"

His voice is rough when he answers. "Especially then."

You close your eyes. Let yourself breathe. Let yourself feel. His warmth, The steadiness of his hand. The crackling, tentative thing that might be healing- or might be burning everything down all over again.

But for now, it's quiet. And you're here. And so is he.

And that's enough.

[syd-vixious]

chat, I’m cooking up some angsty/fluffy shit with Steve Kemp x spouse!reader that’s coming soon!

[thebluemage]

The Hills | Steve Kemp

Pairing | Steve Kemp x dark!reader

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

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

Word Count | 3163

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

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

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

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

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

Hey, Angel. Want to meet up? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My second residency.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, that too,” He chuckles knowingly.

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

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

Hmm, strange. 

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

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

“Okay, that’s valid.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You have such a beautiful smile.”

“Thank you, Steve. You’re so kind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aaaahh, Steve!!”

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

“Hmm, you’re so exquisite.”

“T–thank you, Steve.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Steve.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jessybarnes]

Just A Taste

Title: Just A Taste

Pairing: Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Word Count: 1,643

Tags: Smut, angst, fluff, face riding, oral sex (female receiving), clit play, tongue fucking, kissing, crying, feelings of not being good enough, being held captive, out of character Steve, squirting, explicit language, and I think that’s it.

Written For: KINKMAS 2022

Day 1: Face Riding

Beta(s): Just Grammarly

A/N: Okay, so this was supposed to be posted on the 14th but because I received anon hate I decided to wait because I just wasn't feeling good about myself. I'm still not, but here this is anyway. I'm sorry it's bad. I know Steve is way out of character. Sorry, for my bad writing.

Steve opens the door to his cellar and heads down the stairs. His fingers wrap tightly around the key card as he exhales harshly through his nose. Today was stressful. Well, every day is, but today was even more so.

His shoes click methodically on the hard floor as he walks slowly toward your cell. The other ones are all empty except for two, but those women don't matter to him. Not in the way that you do.

You're...different.

From the day he saw you standing in line at the little deli he frequents, he was captivated by your beauty. He'd never seen someone so beautiful before in his life.

So beautiful, in fact, that he can't bring himself to use you the way he's used all of the other women he's captured. Every time he opens your cell door and sees those big, doe eyes of yours looking up at him, his stomach fills with butterflies.

Even on bad days like this, you bring a light to him that illuminates his darkness.

Steve can see you sitting cross-legged on the thin bed roll, a Cosmopolitan magazine open on your lap. You're chewing on your bottom lip, something he's noted as a habit of yours, and it makes arousal coil in his lower abdomen.

He raises the key card to unlock the door and slides it open. You look up and offer him a soft, nervous smile.

"H-Hi"

Steve smiles at the fear and innocence in your eyes. God, he loves the power he holds over you.

"Hey, sweetheart. Reading anything good?"

You look down at the magazine and move your gaze back to his. It really should disgust you that your attraction to your kidnapper outweighs your motivation to escape. There's no way he feels the same. At first, you'd thought that's why he hadn't harmed you, but now you're starting to think there's something else wrong with you.

You've been here for a long time now, and he still hasn't done what he said he do the first night he'd brought you here. Maybe you're not good enough for him now and he's just keeping you here as a prisoner because he's afraid you'll rat him out and ruin his whole operation.

Wow, I'm so undesirable not even the man who took me captive wants anything to do with me... how pathetic...

"Just the horoscope page," you say quietly.

The sadness in your tone doesn't go unnoticed and Steve realizes it's a different kind of sad. Not the kind he's used to anyway. He pushes off the doorframe and walks closer to you. His knees pop as he crouches down, his fingers tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

"Somethings wrong, and it isn't just because I've got you imprisoned in this room."

It isn't a question, but you know he means to ask what's bothering you. The lump in your throat rises and you're certain if you try and speak the dam inside you will break.

Your lower lip trembles and Steve brushes his thumb over it to keep it still. He watches as tears gather in your eyes and feels his heart constrict with another foreign feeling.

He's been angry before, but never this kind. This kind is new to him. This is a protective type of anger that makes his blood boil.

Steve sits down and pulls you into his lap. You curl into him as soft, quiet sobs shake your body. A deep scowl etches onto his features and even though he's the only one who's had any type of contact with you for the past two months, it still doesn't change the fact that he'd kill anyone who brought you harm.

...Oh...

That's when it dawns on him.

He's fallen for you.

Hard.

Your small voice breaks through your sobs and Steve wipes your tears away with his thumb as he looks down at you.

"Th-There's some...something wrong with m-me, isn't there?"

He shakes his head, "why would there be anything wrong with you? You're the least fucked up person in this house, Y/N."

You sniffle and adjust yourself so you're looking at him properly. He really is attractive, and you're so close to him. Close enough that you could just lean in and-

"Sweetheart?"

Your eyes fall to your lap along with your hands, the chain around your wrist jingling reminding you of where you're at. Maybe you do belong here if you're having sexual thoughts about your fucking abductor.

"Because," you sigh, "I've been in here for a long time and...and you've...well, you haven't...haven't um..."

You can't bring yourself to even say it, but Steve seems to get what you're trying to tell him. He tilts your chin back up again and for the first time in a long time, he actually looks sincere.

"You think because I haven't done to you what I've done to the others that you're not good enough?"

You nod and he swallows thickly. He's normally desensitized to seeing women cry, but with you, it's like someone's torn open a wound in the middle of his chest. He can't stand it and he can't help himself as he leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

You gasp and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips into your warm, wet mouth. He kisses you fiercely, his arms holding you tightly against him, and for a moment you actually believe he wants this...wants you.

Steve pulls away and you search his eyes for a moment before speaking up.

"I...don't...I don't understand... how come-"

He shushes you with another kiss and taps your thigh so you'll get up. He stands with you and pulls a set of keys from his pocket, the same sincere expression still on his face.

"We'll talk more later, baby. Right now, I've gotta taste you, and I need you somewhere more comfortable for that."

The look of horror on your face catches him off guard, but he quickly recovers and shakes his head, his hands cupping your cheeks tenderly.

"Oh, angel, I didn't mean it like that. I promise I'm not going to harm one hair on that pretty, little head of yours."

He pulls you flush against him, one of his large hands sliding underneath the elastic band of your sweatpants.

"What I meant was," two of his fingers apply delicious pressure on your clit making your breath hitch, "I wanna taste this sweet, little cunt, Y/N."

Heat pools in your belly at his words, and you let yourself feel the way the pads of his fingers roll over your sensitive bud. He removes them just as quickly and you let out a little whine in protest.

"Don't be impatient," he admonishes and unlocks the cuff on your wrist.

Steve leads you out of the cell and down the long hallway. You come to a set of stairs and he climbs them, unlocking the door at the top with his key card before taking you through the main part of his house. His bedroom is cozy and neat, but you don't get a chance to really look at it because, in the next second, he's practically tearing your clothes off.

"So sweet...so pretty and innocent, baby. I bet your pussy tastes like heaven."

Steve lays down on the bed and tilts his head back so he can look at you. His cock tents his pants and your mouth waters at the thought of him fucking your throat.

"Come here, princess. Come sit on my face and let me taste you."

You climb over him, your knees just above each of his shoulders. He groans and wraps his arms around your thighs as he looks up at your glistening pussy.

"Fucking soaked, baby."

He pulls you down and drags his tongue from your soaked hole to your hard clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

"Oh, fuck! Steve!"

He begins to devour you, switching from slipping his tongue inside your pussy and sucking on your sensitive nub. You start to rock your hips and whine when he holds you still.

Steve's insatiable.

He can't get enough of the way you taste, the way your dripping cunt clenches around his tongue every time he pushes it inside you. He's instantly addicted and he's determined to see how many times he can make you cum just from his mouth alone.

"Oh, my god! Fuck! Please!... Steve, I...it feels so fucking good, baby."

He lifts you up and looks up into your eyes, "ride my face, princess. Make yourself cum all over my fucking tongue."

You moan loudly and roll your hips, the sensation of his mouth on your pussy making you toss your head back in pleasure.

Your hands grip his hair and you move your cunt faster across his tongue, the spark of arousal now a full-blown inferno as you climb closer and closer to pure bliss.

Steve grips your ass and flicks his tongue faster, his name falling past your lips over and over in a desperate plea.

"Steve! Oh, God Steve! Please! Steve, you're so good...fuck, m'gonna cum you're so fucking good, baby!"

Your legs begin to shake and moments later the coil inside you snaps as you gush all over him. He growls possessively and takes everything you give him until you're too sensitive.

Steve rolls you over so you're on your back, his body caging you in.

"I'm gonna need you to do that again, baby."

Your eyes go wide, "Steve, I don't think that's possible. I'm too sensitive and-"

"Nonsense," he cuts you off and kisses down your body, a smirk dancing across his lips, it's definitely possible, princess."

He kisses your clit and you suck in a sharp breath.

"And you're gonna give me as many as I want."

Tag List: @madashatters18 @sarahrogersevans @chrisevansdaughter @nana1000night @pono-pura-vida @ejshellsiteofsins @imyourbratzdoll

[onceuponastory]

normal - steve kemp - series masterlist

Hunting a new serial killer, FBI criminal profiler Agent Y/N Y/L/N’s boss decides that to catch this new threat, she needs to talk to the one person who can help them understand people like him…the cannibalistic serial killer Steve Kemp, currently in prison for murder. (Fresh x The Silence of the Lambs AU/Mashup)

Header made by @staticscreenwriting / @thesundrop

A/N: Please heed all warnings and read with caution. This is a DARK fic with discussions of death, violence and smut amongst other things...so NO MINORS.  Each chapter also has their own individual warnings, so please check those before reading too. Also: Dead Dove, Do Not Eat!

Also, Steve is a villain in this, but not the main one. This fic is an x reader one, so Steve and reader will be together/in love in it. If this is not something you’re comfortable with, this isn’t the fic for you.

Completed: July 19th Last updated: September 20th

Chapter One: Into the Lion’s Den

Chapter Two: A Monster in Plain Sight

Chapter Three: Rude Awakenings

Chapter Four: Inner Darkness

Chapter Five: Friends to the Wicked

Chapter Six: Keep Your Friends Close...

Chapter Seven: Always and Forever

Chapter Eight: The Oncoming Storm

Chapter Nine: Survival Instinct

Chapter Ten: Begin Again (Finale) 

Alternate Ending

BONUS

Chapter 3.5: Protections (bonus chapter set between chapters 3-4)

Early Morning (credit to @navybrat817​ for the inspo!)

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

Steve Kemp Drabble

So I know I said that I’d post this tomorrow, but I finished it a day early and thought… why not post it now? Low key has nothing to do with finals or studying but meh I liked how it turned out.

This is my first time writing for Steve Kemp so tell me if there is anything I’d need to fix for next time.

Note: This is definitely a dark fic. Like pretty dark. Minors do not interact.

Chapter warnings: mentions of cannibalism, kidnapping, and threat of non con. Basically canon level violence.

At first, he had only let you finish your book because it had made you more valuable.

Selling just the meat and pictures got boring to the 1% of the 1%. And after accidentally throwing in a small sketch one of his last victims had drawn, Victoria was her name, he had finally found a way to recapture his customers.

To his surprise, they had been delighted to pay extra for a piece of art done by the women they paid to eat. A sketch here was $5,000, a painting was $10,000. But a fully finished book? An easy $20,000.

The second you had told him that you were an author he knew that he had hit the gold. You had never published a book before, so you wouldn’t be missed, but even if your writing was bad it would bring in a good chunk of cash.

So he had done what he always did, seduced and convinced you to take a small trip with him. You had been apprehensive at first, after all you had only known him for two months, but eventually agreed.

He would have found your reservations endearing if he wasn’t the thing you were trying to defend yourself against.

You had fallen unconscious quicker than most, and Steve knew that's because you rarely ever drank. He had thought it was adorable how you’d always order Shirley Temples instead of a fruity cocktail.

“You never know when a good idea is going to hit you.” You had said. “I need to be ready to write it down if I ever want to get published.”

That’s why on your fourth date he had gotten you a new notepad, since the one you carried around with you was beaten up and battered by time.

He remembered meeting you in a small coffee shop, and chuckling as you scrunched your nose in thought.

He remembered taking you to a small speakeasy for your first date. And how your eyes had sparkled at the surroundings.

Now here he sat, deciding when to start cutting you up. He’d have to start soon, but he had found himself hesitating.

He hadn’t hesitated with the rest. He hadn’t felt anything when it came to them, even with his now ex wife. But you. You. The way your eyes would twinkle when you smiled and how you always smelled like flowers.

He tried to focus. Tried to mentally block you out but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t see something as sweet as you on his operating table. He wasn’t sentimental. Far from it, but the thought of seeing your eyes peering at him fearfully made his chest tighten. And that’s when he knew.

He couldn’t let anything happen to you. He couldn’t do anything to hurt you.

~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s POV

~~~~~~~~

Out of all of your shortcomings, you had never expected that your love for romance would be what did you in.

But you should have, and maybe some part of you knew that Steve was too good to be true. It was too perfect of a meet cute. It didn’t matter anymore though. Your fate was as good as sealed and there was nothing you could do to change it.

Signing, you looked at the clunky typewriter he had given you to finish your book on. He obviously didn’t trust you with your laptop. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to finish your book so badly, after all you were just another piece of meat for him to sell. To eat. You shivered at the thought and felt tears well up in your eyes. You didn’t want to die.

You snuggled softly and wiped away your stray tears as you heard Steve’s heavy footsteps come down the stairs. It must have been time for dinner. Or lunch. Whatever time it was out there.

“Morning sweetheart.” Breakfast then.

You looked at him as he unlocked the cell door and slid inside with a tray of steaming scrambled eggs and toast.

“How’s the writing going?”

You didn’t give him an answer and just watched as he placed the tray next to you.

“I get it ok, you’re mad.” You scoffed at that but still said nothing. “But I was thinking…” he trailed off looking at you. This couldn’t be good.

“I’m not gonna sell you.” He said finally, sitting across the room from you.

You blinked in surprise at that, and felt a smile rise to your mouth. “You’re going to let me go?” You asked hopefully.

He chuckled at that and you felt all of your newfound hope be dashed instantly. “You know I can’t do that sweetheart.”

“But you said-“

“I know what I said, but you can’t leave.” A strange numbness washed over you at his words as he continued. “I really did mean it when I said I liked you, and I know this isn’t exactly traditional and all, but we can still work.”

“I’m sorry I don’t understand.” You sputtered out. “What’s happening?”

“I love you Y/n. Look I get it, this is confusing and you need time, but you’ll learn to love me back and we can fix this.”

You felt your heart pound against your chest.

“N- no you can’t. This isn’t- You’re lying.” You insisted and shoving yourself into a small corner. He was insane. This man was fucking insane. First he wanted to cut you up and now he wants you to love him? He’s insane.

“Alright just calm down sweetheart.” He got up and placatingly put up his hands as he walked over.

“No! No! Stay away from me!” You started yelling and thrashing as he finally gripped your forearms. “You’re crazy. You’re fucking crazy.” You started to sob and could make out Steve’s annoyed face through your tears.

He sighed and angrily pushed back his hair. “Fine. I didn’t want to have to do this, but you are being irrational.”

“I-“ Your question was cut off by his hand ripping you towards him by the chain.

“If you can’t get through that thick skull that you are mine, then I guess I’ll have to fuck the message into you.”

[stevekemp-anon]

kiss me like it was our last time together.

[abbatoirablaze]

Angel Of Death, Chapter 15

Word Count:  1.7k

Warnings:  gun violence, mentions of a gun, murder.

“Are you okay?”

You frowned, looking at Ransom, “I’m fine, Ransom.”

“I can see it on your face clear as day, Nicola, that’s why I’m asking, “Ransom pointed out as he watched for even the slightest of changes on your face, “I’ll ask you one more-“

“If you don’t seem to think that I’m okay, why are you even asking me?” you asked, cutting him off, “you know that I’m stressed out over all of this…you know I feel like I’m losing my damn mind.  I’ve only ever felt this insecure in myself once before…and I feel like I’m about to crash and burn. What else more is there to say, Ransom?”

“I just want you to be open and honest with me Nicola.”

“And I don’t want my father to be gone.  I don’t want Bobby to be burning my family’s legacy to ashes around me.  I don’t want to lose everything” you hissed, snapping on the one man who was being patient with you.  You felt the sting of the tears hitting your eyes and streaming down your cheeks, “I know his tactics, Ransom.  I know what Bobby is doing.  He’s purposefully setting out to be a hinderance, to show my enemies that I’m nothing without a man to back me up.  He knew Charles was going to be murdered and he stood there…now…after what I did to him...he’s not going to let me go, Ransom.  He’s salting the earth.  He killed my fiancé.  He killed my father.  He burned my house to the ground.  I know that he wants me to come to the place where he and I started…he wants me to come back to him….he wants me to go back there because I tried to sever his ties when I severed his tongue.  He’s going to come after you…an-and I don’t know if I could handle losing you too…”

Ransom’s jaw ticked, “You’re not going there.”

“You think I have a choice?” you scoffed, the tears working their way down your cheeks, “you think that I have the option to say no, Ransom?  If I say no, he’ll just keep coming after me.  He’ll come after you and Char-“

“LET HIM!” Ransom yelled in her face, “LET HIM FUCKING TRY TO COME FOR YOU AND CHARLES.  I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT MYSELF, BUT  I WON’T LET HIM GET TO EITHER OF YOU, OKAY?  HOW FUCKING HARD IS IT FOR YOU TO JUST LET GO FOR A MOMENT AND TRUST THAT I CAN PROTECT YOU?”

“BECAUSE NO ONE EVER PROTECTED ME!”

Ransom’s heart shattered, “You don’t think Charles protected you when he took on that role of pretending that he was Nicholas Paretti?  You don’t think your father watched over you?”

“Charles knew about Bobby…he was training under him when it happened,” you admitted, tears streaming down your cheeks, “Charles never protected me from that.  He pretended to be Nick Paretti because of his own guilt.  I know that…our love took years to build…and my father watched over his own interests.”

“What about me?” Ransom asked, wrapping his own arms around the woman that he had grown to love in such a short amount of time, “you don’t think I’ll protect you?”

“I’ve been let down by too many men to trust them, Ransom.”

“Not even when they love you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, “y-you what?”

“I love you,” he repeated softly, “the other night…when we had sex, you said it…I told you that I loved you too, but I don’t think you were ready to acknowledge it…but I want you to know how I feel Nicola…”

“Ranso-“

“You have to know that,” he repeated softly, taking your hands in his own, “I love you…and I know that you feel guilty about everything.  About your father.  About Charles.  About not catching Kemp, but I’ve done everything I can to try to let you know that I’m in your corner…and I’ll always be in your corner, Nicola.  I love you and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you or Charles.  I’ll fucking burn the world to ashes to protect you even if it means the end of my own empire.”

“Ransom…”

“He’s at my warehouse,” Ransom said softly.  You bit your lip as your eyes shot to his, “I have Kemp in my warehouse, waiting for you…whenever your ready…to deal with him however you see fit.”

“Ransom…that-“

“Is just another way that I can prove to you how I feel,” he pointed out as he cut you off.  He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I love you Nicola…”

“I-I love you too, Ransom.”

“I know baby…I know.”

Ransom stared at you as your heels clicked a path down the mostly abandoned warehouse to the interrogation area.  He watched with bated breaths as you glared the man that killed Charles as though he meant nothing.  The man who had been around your son.  Your jaw clenched as you felt the rage building up inside of you. 

Ransom’s feet moved before he could stop himself and soon enough, he was behind you as you stared at the unconscious man. 

You lowered your gun as your bottom lip warbled.  The anger fell away like a shell you’d grown out of, and you felt a few stray tears slip down your cheeks, “I-I can’t do it.  I thought that I could…but I can’t.  I-I can’t kill him.”

Ransom’s hand went over yours and he took the gun from you carefully, “It’s okay to not be tough all the time, Nicola…everyone deserves the chance to be soft.”

Your eyes were glassy as you looked over your shoulder at him, “H-he killed Charles…”

“And you feel obligated to kill him for it,” he whispered gently as he pressed a line of firm kisses along one of your shoulders, “that’s more than enough…”

“He was near my son, Ransom.”

“You���re still mourning…you can’t have all of that rage trying to cloud your heart when you’re in a pit of grief, Nicola…” Ransom sighed. You turned around and looked at the man that you’d proclaimed your love for.  You had to stand there and examine him.   There was no pressure there.  No expectations.  He just wanted you to be safe and happy.  He wanted to love you and let you be loved. Your hands fell to his pecs, and you leaned forward.  He gave you a gentle kiss, “you know that I’d do anything for you, Nicola…you don’t even have to ask me.”

He gently rubbed the tip of his nose against yours, and you noticed his arm raise.  Neither one of you broke eye contact as the gun went off, the noise echoing in the warehouse. 

“I love you.”

“And I love you,” Ransom repeated, “like I said…I don’t expect anything though, Nicola.  I just want you to be okay…”

“I’m okay with you,” you all but whispered.  He gave you a soft smile and pressed his lips to your forehead, “let’s go home, Ransom.  It’s late…”

“Whatever you want, baby.” He agreed.  He wrapped his arm around you and turned, leading you out of the warehouse and to his Beemer.  The two of you drove back to his estate quickly, and you weren’t surprised to see the porch light on. 

Wordlessly, the two of you slipped into the house, Bucky nodding from his spot in the main hall while he looked up from the very obvious porn that was playing on his cell phone.

“The kids are here, Barnes…save that shit for your room.”

“Be happy I’m not cranking it here,” he grumbled with a scoff, “and anyways, the kids are two floors above me…I doubt the little angels are waking up to listen to my porn.”

Ransom shook his head as he led you up the stairs, “if either child wakes up and hears that, I’m castrating you myself.”

“Don’t tease me with the good foreplay, boss,” he joked, sending Ransom a smirk.  But he turned off his phone regardless, “you guys good for the night?”

“We’re good,” Ransom agreed as you hit the landing of the second floor, “you’re off the clock, Barnes.  Can head home if you want, or up to your room.”  

You heard Bucky sigh as the two of you went to his personal office so he could deposit the gun in his safe.  But you both were surprised to see Charles, asleep on the couch, his ipad still playing a television show. 

“I think he likes you too,” you told Ransom softly as you nodded towards your son.  You let go of Ransom and walked over to your son, turning off his ipad and running your fingers through his hair.  Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Ransom following you, but he stopped behind the couch and opened up a chest, “he knew both of us were gone and slept where he felt the safest…he used to do that when he was a toddler.  I remembered how we would snuggle up on the second floor balcony and watch the stars in Italy.”

Reaching in, he pulled out a crocheted blanket and you raised your brow, “my grandmother made it for me when I was a child…it’s one of the last things I have from her…”

And then you watched as he put it over your son and tucked it in around him.  Your heart melted at the sight, and you stood frozen in place as your son nuzzled into it, the smallest of smiles on his lips.

“Ransom.”

He frowned, looking back up to you, “should we have tucked him in upstairs in his room?”

You felt the tears at the corners of your eyes again as you shook your head, “no…no…I just…I didn’t expect you to do something like that…”

“He may be growing on me,” Ransom admitted softly as his own hand ran over the young boy’s hair and slid down his cheek, “but only just a little bit…”

“That’s more than enough for me,” you offered sweetly, knowing the underlying tone to his sentiment.  You knew that Ransom and your son were starting to get along with one another, even if they were both hesitant to admit it.  They had a lot of similarities, “I appreciate the effort, Ransom...from both of you.”

Chapter 16

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @lala415

[xcaptain-winterx]

Steve Kemp: Time to sin AU

Time to sin Masterlist

• coming soon

[vbecker10]

😳😳😳😳 Holy crap this is amazing and I need more!!

The Last Supper

Pairing: Steven Kemp x Reader

Summary: On the night everything is supposed to end, one unexpected revelation turns the plan upside down, forcing a reckoning neither of you saw coming.

Wordcount: 460

Warnings: druging a person, talks about death and killing.

A/N: I re-watched Fresh last night, and this idea came to my mind.

Steve Kemp never thought of himself as a monster. At least, not the kind that felt regret. But the moment he took you, something changed. You weren’t like the others, those blurred faces, fading names. You were fiery, Defiant, and clever. Soft when you thought he wasn’t looking. The weeks turned into months, and your presence in the cold, hidden basement of his secluded house became necessary.

You should’ve feared him. And you did at first. But there was a shift, slow and strange. You saw more than the killer. You saw the man. And somehow, despite the chains and the horror, something between the two of you simmered. Something twisted. Something real.

But Steve knew it couldn’t last.

The others were gone, and you had seen too much. You knew his name. His voice. The faint scar beneath his right eye. And deep down, he knew you’d never truly forgive him. Love couldn’t grow in a cage, could it?

So he made a decision. One final night. One beautiful dinner. You’d go peacefully. No fear. No screaming. Just sleep.

He set the table upstairs, candles flickering, wine poured. You wore the dress he left for you on the bed. You didn’t speak as he unlocked the door. Just looked at him, calm. Accepting.

You ate in silence at first. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. You smiled faintly at the food. Complimented the wine. Said it was sweet.

His heart ached. The drug was already dissolving in your bloodstream.

“You’re quiet,” she whispered.

“So are you.”

“I just… I wanted to tell you something.” You reached into your pocket, hands trembling. “I wasn’t sure how to say it.”

You placed something on the table between you two.

A pregnancy test. Positive.

Steve’s world collapsed.

“What…?” His voice cracked. He stared at the tiny stick as if it had killed him.

“You didn’t use protection, Steve.” Your eyes glazed over, blinking slowly. “I thought you should know before… before it’s too late…”

Then she slumped forward, head hitting the table with a soft thud.

“No—nononono—Y/N!” He was out of his chair, catching you before you fell further. “No, you weren’t supposed to—not now!”

He cradled you in his arms, heart pounding with realization.

You were carrying his child. And he had just tried to kill them both.

For the first time in his life, Steve Kemp was terrified, not of being caught, not of dying, but of losing you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, voice shaking. “I messed up. But I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix this…”

And in that dark house, with a heartbeat fading and a secret just born, Steve Kemp knew his story wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.

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[thebluemage]

Obsession | Steve Kemp

Pairing | Steve Kemp x dark!reader

Warning | 18+, Dark themes, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, a shitty ex-boyfriend, mentions of stalking, mentions of vandalism, mentions of assault, gaslighting, manipulation. Steve Kemp (he’s a warning on his own!)

Summary | When you have a chance encounter with Steve, you wonder who he actually is.

Word Count | 1614

A/N | So, I wanted to dabble into writing dark fics with dark!reader and what better character than Steve Kemp (my husband) to write it out!! Surprise, this is also the first chapter of my first series!! I got inspired by @extremelyblackandwhite and it gave me an idea to write for it as well. Beta’d by the lovely @lunarbuck, but all mistakes are my own. Banner & divider made by @vase-of-lilies. If y’all enjoy it, leave some feedback, comment and reblog. I’d really appreciate it!! 💗

Masterlist | Obsession - Steve Kemp series

‘You’re an obsession, you’re my obsession. Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me?’ - Animotion

It was early afternoon when you entered your local bookshop, taking in the sight of the wooden bookshelves as you smelled the scent of old yet valuable paper and books. It’s your safe haven amongst the turbulence you experienced several years ago.

The second you laid eyes on him in your local bookshop, you knew that he was the one. The stranger is handsome and exactly your type. There's something intriguing about him, an all encompassing energy that surrounds him. And you couldn’t help but be entranced by it. There’s an aura of mystery and magnetism that inexplicably pulls you towards him as your eyes drift to his tall frame. He picks up several books and flips through the pages of it on the wooden shelves, moving from aisle to aisle. You subtly follow the stranger around until he reaches the classics where you’ve also been to check out.

He halts when he makes it to the letter B, his eyes roaming from side to side around on the high shelf. You’re amazed with how he’s dressed and the way he looks. His dark brown hair is neatly combed and properly parted to the side. He’s wearing a pink sweater with a brown jacket on top combined with some jeans. It seems like he is looking for a specific book. The handsome stranger picks up Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë from the high shelf near the beginning of the aisle.

Since the breakup with your ex-boyfriend, something has snapped within you. You can’t really explain what it is, but you always feel the need to be around someone, to know every single detail of their life and what they’re doing to cease the loneliness in your heart. It’s a curiosity that morbidly hinges on being intrusive and obsessive, that’s how you like to recall it. It’s been two years since you had seen him. During the breakup, an altercation ensued that led you to key his car and slash his tires out of vengeance. You didn’t stop there, you regularly stop by his apartment to ‘check’ in on him and trash his place. You’ve also tracked his whereabouts and followed him from behind, a few feet away just to see his reaction as you smiled and played dumb by telling him that it’s ‘just a coincidence’ that you bumped into him. Because your ex-boyfriend was, frankly, an asshole. Maybe, this was the kind of revenge that you needed to act out on; as payback for going through the assault that you endured with him during the five years you’d been together. In your eyes, he deserves it. You reported him many times before to the police and he was arrested with multiple charges on his part.

Your ex didn’t report you to the cops because every time he attempted to; you just put on your act as the civilized and innocent ex-girlfriend who was always the victim to his horrible actions.

“No sir, that’s ridiculous! I might be his ex-girlfriend, but I’m not capable of doing such horrendous things. I don’t even have the strength to slash his tires out. I understand that I broke up with him due to his cruel actions, but he just can’t accept that. And now, he’s taking it out on me by constantly harassing me. Check his record, he has various charges, and I’m afraid that he’ll do something to me that could bring my life into mortal peril.”

“Oh sorry, Miss! I didn’t know that. Do you want to file a restraining order against him?”

“Yes, I’d like that sir. Thank you so much!”

“Okay, that’s settled. We’ll add harassment to his record too.”

“Thank you for helping me out, sir. I appreciate that a lot.”

“No problem, Miss.”

Some things are better left unsaid. You physically moved on but you mentally aren’t able to until something or someone else came along. And luckily for you, it has.

While you’re drooling over the guy standing right next to you, you remember you’re in search of a book of your own, Persuasion by Jane Austen. But it’s on the top shelf next to him, and you aren’t able to reach it. You take a look at the man, with the book neatly tucked underneath his arm.

I gotta have him!

“You don’t strike me as the type of guy to read books by Emily Brontë,” you initiate softly with a sweet angelic tone towards his direction, eyeing him with a precious smile while you fixate your gaze to him, externally scanning him. His radiant blue eyes reach you and in an instant something is unlocked in you.

He chuckles softly at your statement. “You’d be surprised by my various interests then.”

“Hehe, that’s alright. It’s cool that you read classics like that. I find that very cultured of you,” you say complimenting him while you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why, thank you. It’s not every day a beautiful person such as yourself compliments me on my taste in books.” He smiles while he looks down at the floor, seemingly abashed by your charm.

“You’re welcome and thank you, too!!” You gratefully declare as you shyly avert your eyes away toward the book you’re looking for.

“Are you getting something too?”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get to this book by Jane Austen, but I can't reach it.” You extend your arm and stand on your tiptoes to reach to the top shelf, but are unsuccessful. “I’m sorry for asking this, but could you please help me out?”

“Yes, of course! Which book is it?” He asks while looking at the shelf above him in search.

“It’s that brown leather-bound book with gold lettering embossed on it.” You inquire while you point your finger at it.

“I got you!” He extends his arm to the leather-bound book, takes it from the shelf, and hands it over to you as you take it from him.

“Thank you so much! Uhh, what’s your name?”

“Steve, I’m Steve Kemp.”

“Oh, wait… aren’t you a doctor?”

“Oh, so you heard of me? And yes, I’m a reconstructive surgeon.” He implies with a curious look in his eyes.

“Well yeah, I read a paper you wrote about the increasing trends in cosmetic surgery and its impact on the overall consciousness and self-image. It was quite interesting to read,” you answer him honestly as you tap on the cover of the book you’re holding in your hands.

“Oh, thank you. I’m so honored that my paper was read by you, a delightful soul amongst our own.” He places the palm of his hand on his chest in a lighthearted manner.

“I didn’t get your name, what can I call you?”

You tell him your name while you flatten the creases of your skirt with one hand.

“Such a beautiful name. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He sticks his hand out for you to take and then proceeds to kiss the knuckles of your tender hand.

Steve was equally enamored by you, and he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for you. Your presence and attention is like a toxic drug for him that he couldn’t get enough of. The moment he set his eyes on you, he immediately knew that you’re perfect to him. This is rare, a very rare thought for a man like him who kidnaps women, kills them, consumes them, and sells their body parts to his customers. He knows it’s unfortunate that you’ve met him, despite his instant attraction and soft spot for you. He isn’t able to subdue his appetite and is desperate to know what you taste like. He promises himself that he’ll be careful with you. So, you don’t have to suffer mentally. It’ll be quick and painless. He can have it all with you, he’s sure of it.

“Do you live around here? Because I live on aisle 6, in the crime and thriller section. I just come to the classic book section and talk to random, very good-looking people that stand next to it.”

You chuckle in your head at his joke as you tilt your head sideways and contort your face a little, withholding a smile.

“That was terrible,” he states out loud, self-loathing clearly eminent in his voice.

You think his awkwardly charming behavior was cute at first, but since you have a PhD in Psychology, you don’t trust someone and their intentions so quickly anymore. Therefore you hold your guard up. You need to find out who he actually is and what he’s like. The real Steve.

“Yeah, it was kind of terrible.”

“I’m so sorry.” He immediately said as he started to back off.

“It’s fine.” You reply, while you wave your hand dismissively.

“Have a good afternoon.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Just as he is about to walk away from you, he suddenly turns around as if he has changed his mind. “You know what? Fuck it, I’m already ruining this, so I’m just gonna keep going. Do you think I can have your number?”

“Oh, yeah sure!” You answer enthusiastically in a cheerful tone.

Yes!

You exchange your number with him as he does with you.

“And as a last token of my appreciation towards you, I want to gift you that book you’re holding,” Steve answers casually.

“What? No, Steve. You don’t need to do that!”

“But I want to,” he replies as he looks at the title of your book.

“Persuasion by Jane Austen, huh,” he pauses as his shimmering eyes look at you, intrigue and awe glimmering in his gaze as if you’re the only one for him. “Well, you certainly persuaded me.”

@superdcchick @hallecarey1

[thebluemage]

I’m By Your Side

Pairing | Doctor!Steve Kemp x female reader

Warning | This is all fluff. Doctor/girlfriend!patient dynamic.

Summary | Steve takes care of you, while you’re sick.

Word Count | 2113

A/N | Thank you, nonnie for your ask!! It got me all soft and warm!! 🥺❤️ Beta’d by @christine-the-soprano-31, but all mistakes are my own. Banners made by @vase-of-lilies. If y’all enjoy it, leave some feedback, comment and reblog. I’d greatly appreciate it!! 💗

Masterlist

You usually didn’t mind the mornings. Steve let you sleep until whatever time your body needed, your alarm clock typically being the morning sunlight trickling in through the curtains.

This morning, however, you woke to find yourself drenched in sweat. Your skin felt like it was on fire, yet it felt impossible to stop shivering. With a groan, you peeled the damp covers off of your clammy skin and tried to sit up. Tried being the operative word. Your body felt too heavy and too sore to move. Mustering what little strength you could, you finally pulled yourself into a seated position. The moment you tried to get out of bed, you whimpered. You were too lightheaded and weak to even move. Having heard you whimper, Steve came running to the bedroom and was immediately at your side.

“Hey, hey. Get back in bed, sweetheart,” Steve murmured softly. His brows knitted in concern as he lowered your shivering frame back onto the bed.

“No, I’m fine Steve,” you insisted. A harsh cough racked your body, a stabbing feeling radiating through your chest. You blinked back tears as you tried to catch your breath.

“You don’t sound particularly fine, bunny. Just lay back and let me have a look at you,” he said, his tone laced with worry. He moved to grab his medical bag before returning to you.

He meticulously laid out each tool he needed: his stethoscope, his blood pressure cuff (or sphygmomanometer, as he’d taught you), thermometer, otoscope, and a tongue depressor, sterile and in still its packaging.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling, right now?” he asked, his demeanor warm and clinical. He’d settled down beside you, expertly beginning to prop you up against the pillows. Ever the physician, he looked down at you with a curious gaze. Something about him surveying you this way always gave you butterflies, regardless of what state you were in.

“I feel tired, my limbs feel heavy, my body feels hot, my nose is stuffy, and I have a sore throat. And I feel weak,” you listed, your voice hoarse. You gave a tiny sniffle, trying futilely to clear the congestion in your nose.

“Do you feel any aches or pains?” he asked, gently pressing his palm to your forehead.

“Yes. Everywhere. My throat burns, too. But only when I swallow.”

He nodded as he took in the information. “Your forehead is very warm. Definitely a fever,” he observed. He gave a sympathetic pout and positioned the buds of his stethoscope in his ears. “I’ll have a peek at your throat in just a moment, Bunny. For now, I just need you to breathe normally for me.” Steve’s tone grew low and velvety, as it always did at that specific instruction. Breathe normally for me…

You closed your eyes and stayed perfectly still as he listened, the cool metal of the stethoscope soothing against your burning skin.

“Hmm, your heartbeat is a bit slower than usual,” he noted aloud. “Sit forward for me, sweetie.” Though before you could try to move yourself, he’d slipped a hand behind your back and gingerly pressed you forward. He caught your chest with his opposite hand, supporting you with ease. He pressed the diaphragm to your back. “Deep breath, baby girl,” he murmured, beginning to listen to your lungs.

“Lungs are congested,” he sighed. “And your breathing sounds labored.”

“Is that a concern?”

“Perhaps...” he answered. He quickly grabbed the sphygmomanometer and secured the cuff around your upper arm. He positioned his stethoscope before beginning to work the device. His expression grew even more concerned as he looked at the reading.

“90/60. That’s low, very low,” he stated as he took the cuff off of your arm. He looked at you, clearly worried.

“That’s why I feel lightheaded.”

Steve didn’t respond. Instead, he began feeling around your neck and jaw, looking for any swelling. He mumbled a few notes to himself before he picked up his otoscope and tenderly tucked your hair behind your ears. He started on your right ear, speaking softly to you, his warm, minty breath tickling your skin. Satisfied with the right side, he moved to repeat the process on the left. “Nothing alarming there,” he said as he pulled away. “No signs of infection.”

Next, he took the thermometer. “Open for me, sweetheart,” he instructed. You opened your mouth obediently, allowing him to place the thermometer under your tongue.

A few moments later, the thermometer beeped. Steve took it from your mouth, his eyes widening.

“A hundred degrees?! Oh, bunny. I’m going to clear my schedule for the next few days and give you my undivided attention.” He stroked your hair, his features twisted into a distressed expression.

“One more thing, baby,” he said, unwrapping the tongue depressor. “Can you open your mouth and say ‘ahh’ for me?”

You let out a strained ‘aah’ as he pressed on your tongue, shining his flashlight down your throat.

“That doesn’t sound or look good. I’m thinking it’s the flu. So you have to stay in bed, sweetheart. I’m going to check on you every hour or so to monitor your condition.” He sighed and began to put his equipment away.

“Is this for your research?” you asked innocently, watching him through tired eyes.

Steve looked at you, his expression softening. He cupped your cheeks. “No, darling. This has nothing to do with my research. I’m doing this because I genuinely care about your health and well being. You’re my perfect patient, my everything. My love.” He brushed his thumbs over your cheeks at that, his lips quirking up into a soft smile. “No one could ever take better care of you. It’s all gonna be okay. I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere.” He held your face a moment longer before returning to his tools. Once they were put away, he returned to your side. His arms were secure as he held you, lovingly stroking your cheeks and hair.

You looked up at him through adoring eyes. He was right. Who could take better care of you than your doctor? “Thank you, Steve. Does this mean I get cuddles?”

“Yes,” he chuckled warmly. “Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?” He gave your nose a gentle boop. “You’re getting all the cuddles and attention I can give you.

“Tell you what,” he continued, “I really need my bunny to eat something. I’m going to make the best batch of soup I’ve ever made just for you. I’ll get you started with some nice, warm tea, too. And when I come back, you’ll eat your soup and I’ll cuddle you for as long as you’d like.”

Once he was sure you were comfortable, Steve went to make some tea. Knowing how much you hated taking medicine, he slipped whatever medication he saw fit into your tea.

As promised, he returned with your favorite mug. You mustered a barely audible, “Steve?” in your exhausted state.  

“It’s me, my love. I made you some tea with honey in it. This should soothe that icky feeling in your throat,” he cooed. “Can you take a sip for me?”

“I feel so heavy,” you whimpered as you tried to sit up.

“I know, baby. I know. But I need you to take a sip for me. I let it cool a bit so you won’t burn yourself.” He helped you sit up a tiny bit and brought the cup to your lips. “Drink, my love,” he said with gentle authority.

You obeyed, taking a couple of sips and ignoring the medicinal flavor against your tastebuds. Your doctor did know best, after all.

He smiled. “Good girl,” he praised. “Such a good girl.” He set the tea on the nightstand. “I’ll be back soon. Rest, okay?” He ran a hand over your arm before retreating to the kitchen once more.

Much like his lab, Steve’s kitchen was a sacred place. To him, at least. You’d spent countless hours watching him expertly navigate both spaces in fearful awe. So sure of himself as he seemed to be holding the entire world at his fingertips. In those moments, Dr. Steven Kemp answered to no one. The world was at his mercy.

You drifted off to sleep, only to be woken up by Steve stroking your cheek. “Wake up, Princess. Time to eat,” he said, his voice a hypnotic lilt. You blinked your eyes open to find him smiling down at you. “Hello,” he chuckled. He sat beside you, helping you sit up. “There we go,” he cooed. “Just like I promised. Do you want me to feed you, baby girl?”

Your eyes slowly shifted to the tray, which held a steaming bowl of soup, your favorite crackers, and some fresh orange juice.

You nodded, a groan slipping from your throat as you rested your head against his shoulder. “feel terrible Steve,” you mumbled, though it came out as more of a whimper.

“I know, I know,” he assured you, as though he was speaking to a child. “But it’s important that you eat. I need to make sure my little patient is properly nourished. There are lots of veggies and proteins in your soup to keep you strong while you heal. I promised you the best batch of soup I’ve ever made, and that’s exactly what I’m giving you.”

You sighed, fully alert now. “You are the doctor, I guess,” you giggled softly. “I should follow your orders, shouldn’t I?”

He laughed and settled against the headboard. “Good girl. Now open up.” He took a spoonful of soup and brought it to your lips. He wrapped an arm around you as you took the first mouthful.

“I think I can feed myself,” you told him after your third bite. “Now that I’m not so out of it.”

Hesitantly, Steve handed you the spoon. “Okay. Take your time, though. If you need me, I’m here to feed you again.”

You thanked him quietly and picked up the spoon. The soup was the best he’d ever made you. Flavorful and soothing as it ran down your throat. You hummed happily. “This soup tastes amazing, Steve. You were right. It’s your best. Thank you.”

“I’m glad, you like it darling. I want my baby to make a quick recovery. Is there anything else you need?” he inquired while stroking your hair gently.

“Cuddles. Can we cuddle after I eat my food?”

“Yes, of course, dear. But I have to check your vitals first.”

“It’s not even an hour yet, Steve.”

“So? As your doctor, I have to make sure to give you the best treatment, and that involves recording your vitals as often as I see fit.” He tilted your chin up for you to look at him. Your mouth went dry, heart skipping a beat. You knew that look.

“But, don’t you want to cuddle me first? Please?” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog pout.

He looked at you, his stern expression unwavering. “Bunny, I know what you’re trying to do and it’s–” he began while looking deeply into your eyes. His firm expression soon broke and he sighed. “Working.” He shook his head, chuckling.

You giggled triumphantly and continued to eat your soup and sip your tea slowly, savoring each bite and sip until the bowl and mug were empty.  

“Okay, I ate everything and I drank the tea entirely. Can we cuddle now?” you asked as you set the tray carefully on  the side table.

“Sure. We can. Come here, sweetheart.”

You let yourself melt into his embrace, humming against his chest as you nuzzled deeper into him. You felt his hand stroke your hair tenderly, and could hear his heartbeat thumping steadily beneath your cheek. It instantly calmed you.

“Is this what we’re going to do all day?” you asked softly, curiously.

“Yes. Besides the checkups, I think so. Do you feel like doing anything else?”

“No, no. This is perfect.”

“Good. Because, I’m not going anywhere. I’m by your side, whenever you need me,” he said softly as he pressed long and light kisses to your forehead. He held you tightly.

“You should rest a little, I’ll wake you for vitals soon.”

“Okay. And Steve?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, babe,” you said as you let your eyes close.

“Shhh, shhh… rest, my bunny,” he cooed, continuing to stroke your hair.

Feeling his arms around you made you feel safe, as if nothing could ever hurt you. Your body easily relaxed into his hold, while you gradually drifted off to sleep. You could never feel safer than you did right now. Here, in his arms. Your sanctuary. Your home.

[onceuponastory]

"Come back to bed."

Hey Navy! Thank you for the request/inspiration! I decided to situate this in the Normal universe, cause I love that fic, and Steve being all cute and domestic for once. So here’s Steve and Reader waking up together. Also this is another classic case of: "Shit, this was meant to be a drabble!" People probably don't have to have read Normal to understand this cause it's not a huge impact on the story, but here's a link anyway.

Decided to call this little fic Early Morning, aka: Reader realises how much she loves waking up beside Steve Kemp.

As dawn breaks over the forest, the world is peaceful. In the cabin, Y/N and Steve lay in bed together, fast asleep. All the excitement, pain, and fear of the past few days are gone, and everything is serene. Instinctively, Steve scoots closer to Y/N, his arm wrapping around her waist protectively. Or perhaps the reason why Steve wants to be so close to her is because he wants to make up for lost time and show her how much he loves her, even while she sleeps.

The pair continue to sleep for a little while longer, until the sound of birds chirping cuts through Y/N's sleep, and she wakes up with a groan. Stupid birds. She turns around, a whispered “Good morning!” leaving her lips. Once she realises that Steve is still asleep beside her, she quickly shuts her mouth. Y/N stares over at Steve as the sunlight illuminates his body, and a smile crosses her lips. This is only the third day that she's woken up beside Steve Kemp, and already, she's sure that it’s one of her favourite things in the entire world. There are no prison officers and no asshole coworkers to put a stop to them. It's just the two of them, finally together after so long.

Yet, Y/N still makes sure to gently run her finger along Steve's cheek, checking that he's real, and that she's not dreaming. That she won't wake up and be back home, her new and happy life over before it even began. Steve stirs a little at her touch, but continues to sleep, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Y/N sighs happily. It's still real. She knows she should stop worrying and just enjoy this moment of tranquillity, but after the rollercoaster the past few weeks have been, what with being betrayed by Nick Fowler and then having a serial killer admitting his love for her and taking her away so they can finally be together, Y/N's learned to expect the unexpected in her life.

But she doesn't need to worry about Nick anymore, or anyone else. It's just her and Steve now. Always and forever, just like he said. And spending eternity with Steve Kemp sounds like a dream come true. Even though it's still a little weird to have him right beside her when only a few days ago, he was in a bright orange jumpsuit and handcuffs, and she was ordered to stay away from him for safety. Now, though, he looks calm and at peace. And Y/N finds herself falling even more in love. Being here with Steve by her side, and them both sharing each other's space and doing the usual couple things that they missed out on feels right, and it feels like home. In that moment, Y/N knows that she could stay by his side forever.

However, life has other plans, including a busy day for Y/N. So, she needs to get up, despite how little she wants to. And so, tries her best to wriggle out of Steve's grasp without awakening him.

"Mmm...nooo." Steve murmurs. The sound of his voice makes her jump, but the deep baritone tone in it also makes her shudder. God, how is this man so attractive? Steve grabs her wrist, gently trying to pull her back to bed and into his embrace once more. "Come back to bed." His fingers brush against her skin, and she giggles. Y/N wonders if she'll ever get used to the sensation of Steve touching her skin, and if it'll stop sending sparks through her entire body. In all honesty, she hopes it never does.

"Steve, let go! I have to see Jenna about a job, remember? I won't be gone that long, I promise." Y/N leans down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. When she pulls away, Steve grins, pulling her in for another, hungrier kiss, one that she readily accepts.

"Ohhh no. Jenna can wait." Gently, Steve pulls her again, and Y/N falls back onto the bed. Steve's arms wrap around her. "I've been waiting months to touch and kiss you like this, and now I can. Sorry, but I am not letting go of my chance." He murmurs. He grins, flipping her over so that he's on top of her.

"Steve, I love you, but I really have to-" Y/N laughs, but she's cut off by Steve peppering kisses all over her face and neck. As Steve's lips brush against her skin, Y/N bites her lip to stop her sounds of pleasure from escaping. God, he really knows all the right spots. Steve chuckles at the sound of her subdued moan, knowing he's convinced her to stay. Not that she needed much convincing anyway. Y/N and Steve's lips meet once again, and Steve slips his tongue in. As the kiss deepens, all thoughts Y/N has of being busy disappear, replaced by thoughts of her and Steve's new life together.

Always and forever.

[onceuponastory]

a piece of meat - steve kemp x reader

Plot: Y/N decides to see what her boyfriend thinks of her new shirt. Pairing: Steve Kemp x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism (I mean it’s Steve Kemp, so...), and implied sexual content. Nothing happens (aside from like one ass grab) but I finish the fic just before they’re about to head to the bedroom, so no minors please. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: Look, there’s not really a plot to this. I just saw this shirt and thought wearing it around Steve would be funny, and I haven’t written for Steve since finishing Normal, so here’s a little thing I wrote where reader does just that.

Once again, not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“Morning Steve.” Y/N chirps happily as she walks into their kitchen. He murmurs something in reply, but then immediately looks up, noticing that she’s wearing only her panties as bottoms. 

“Y/N.” He begins, his voice little more than a moan. “You know what you do to me when you dress like that.” 

“I know. That’s why I wore them.” She replies with a wink. As she busies herself around the kitchen, Steve continues to enjoy the view. His eyes wander even lower, running down her ass and thighs, then down her legs, finally finishing at her ankles. When she turns around, he finally notices the shirt she’s wearing. “I am a piece of meat?” He murmurs, his brows furrowing together.

“Do you like it? I thought it was pretty funny.” Y/N grins, giggling. “And besides….” She comes closer, leaning over him. Steve’s face goes red, and Y/N smirks. “That is how you like your women, isn’t it, Steve? As pieces of meat? Yours to play with, to fuck…and to taste.” His mouth drops open, and he tries to say something, yet can only muster a deep, guttural moan. His hand goes out, grabbing her ass and squeezing it. When she yelps, Steve grins.

“You’re right. I do.” As he glances over her body once more, he bites his bottom lip. He gets up, pressing a kiss to her lips, then takes her hand with a smirk, leading her towards their bedroom. “And I think I should taste you next.”