#steve kemp/reader

[buckythinker]

oh my god i can’t BELIEVE we have this bucky back again i used to dream of times we’d get new long hair bucky content and here we are 😭😭😭😭😭

[homiesexuallaj]

[mandoalorian]

run rabbit, run [steve kemp x f!reader]

Synopsis: A game of cat and mouse turns into something far more sinister when you run from Steve—and he catches you. In the depths of the forest, under the moonlit sky, you learn the hard way that he doesn’t just take what he wants. He makes sure you never want to run again.

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: 18+ explicit content. cat/mouse, dub-con, knife play, unprotected p in v, outdoor sex, mouth fucking ????? / m receiving oral. lol kind of insane but also very canon typical behaviour of steve i fear……..

masterlist

The forest is silent, save for the pounding of your footsteps against the damp earth. Twigs snap beneath you, branches claw at your skin as you push forward, lungs burning from the effort. You don’t know how long you’ve been running—minutes, maybe hours—but it doesn’t matter. He’s still behind you.

Somewhere in the distance, Steve’s voice carries through the trees, low and teasing. “You can run, rabbit… but you can’t hide.”

Your pulse thrums wildly as you weave between the trees, heart slamming against your ribs. You know he’s toying with you. He’s always been faster, stronger. The only reason you’re still on your feet is because he wants you to be.

Then you hear it—the steady crunch of footsteps, closer than before. Your breath catches.

He’s here.

Panic surges, and you push yourself harder, sprinting blindly through the dark. But the second your foot catches on a hidden root, the world tilts. You crash forward, dirt and leaves scraping against your skin.

And then—warm hands. Strong. Unyielding. A weight settles over you before you can crawl away, pressing you down, trapping you beneath him.

“Caught you,” Steve murmurs against your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

You thrash, but he only laughs, effortlessly pinning your wrists above your head. His grip is bruising, possessive. Final.

“I let you run farther this time,” he muses, as if he’s considering letting you go again. But you both know the truth. The game is over.

You’re not going anywhere.

His free hand dips into his jacket pocket, and when he pulls it out, the moonlight glints off cold, silver steel. A knife.

Your body goes still.

Steve notices. His grin widens, the blade catching the light as he turns it slowly between his fingers. “Scared?” he taunts.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

He hums, pleased with your silence, then drags the flat of the blade down your arm, slow and deliberate. The metal is icy against your overheated skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing into yours.

The tip of the knife grazes lower, skimming over your ribs, your stomach. “I should punish you for running,” Steve muses, almost thoughtful, as if deciding just how far he wants to take this.

You shudder, the thrill of fear mixing with something else, something darker.

He notices that, too.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, the edge of the blade pressing a fraction harder. Not enough to break the skin—just enough to make your breath hitch. “You like this, don’t you?”

You shake your head quickly, but it’s a lie. The way your body reacts betrays you—the way your breath stutters, the way your thighs press together involuntarily.

Steve smirks. “I think you do.”

The knife trails lower, catching the hem of your shirt. With one swift motion, he slices through the fabric. The cool night air rushes against your bare skin, and a gasp slips from your lips.

“You should see yourself,” Steve murmurs, pressing the blade lightly against your hip now. “All spread out beneath me. You ran so hard, but look where you ended up.”

His eyes darken, drinking in every inch of you, the way your chest rises and falls, the way your body trembles—whether from fear or anticipation, you’re not sure anymore.

Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the knife is gone.

Steve buries the blade into the dirt beside your head, the handle within reach but completely useless to you now. His focus is elsewhere. On you.

His hands slide up your thighs, rough and demanding. His fingers press against the heat between your legs, finding you soaked through your thin shorts.

You whimper.

Steve’s smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

Then, without warning, he rips the last barrier of clothing away, his mouth ghosting over your throat, your collarbone, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin.

“Tell me you want this,” he commands, his voice a low growl.

You hesitate for only a second.

“Say it.”

Your body is already arching into his, craving the contact, desperate for more. You want to fight it—you should fight it—but there’s no use pretending anymore.

“… I want it.”

Steve exhales sharply, like he’s been waiting for those words. His lips crash against yours, claiming, consuming. His hands roam freely now, rough fingers leaving bruises in their wake.

And then—he takes you.

It’s brutal. Unrelenting. He pushes into you in one hard thrust, stretching you, filling you completely. You cry out, nails digging into his back, but Steve only groans, his grip on you tightening.

“There it is,” he breathes against your ear, voice thick with satisfaction.

Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him deeper. His pace is merciless—driven by raw possession, by the knowledge that he’s conquered you in every way.

The world fades into nothing but heat and movement, the scent of sweat and earth mixing in the air as he fucks you into the cold dirt. His name falls from your lips, breathless and desperate, and that only spurs him on, each thrust more punishing than the last.

He wants you to know you belong to him.

His fingers find your throat, pressing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, just enough to make you feel him in every possible way.

“You’re mine,” Steve growls, his teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder, marking you. “No more running.”

His rhythm stutters, his grip tightening as he buries himself deep inside you, the sharp sound of his breath hitching in your ear as he spills into you, claiming you.

Even after, he doesn’t move away. His body is still heavy against yours, his breath still warm against your skin. His fingers trace slow, lazy patterns over your thigh, possessive even now.

Finally, he lifts his head, his lips ghosting over your temple as he whispers:

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Steve doesn’t move right away. He stays pressed against you, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still trailing possessively along your body. The weight of him is suffocating, intoxicating.

You should be spent, but you’re not.

He must sense it—the lingering tension in your body, the way your lips part like you want to say something but can’t. His fingers curl around your jaw, tilting your face up until your glassy eyes meet his.

“You’ve got more in you,” he murmurs, thumb stroking over your lips.

It’s not a question.

Your breath hitches, your thighs instinctively pressing together at the implication. But Steve notices—of course he notices—and his smirk deepens.

“You know what to do, rabbit.”

His thumb drags lower, pressing against your bottom lip before slipping past. You open for him without thinking, your tongue grazing the rough pad of his fingertip. He watches you, eyes dark and hooded, as you suck lightly—testing him, teasing him.

His gaze flickers with approval. But he’s done letting you play coy.

Steve shifts, moving onto his knees, dragging you up with him until you’re kneeling between his legs. The motion makes you dizzy, your body still reeling from everything he’s already taken from you.

But it’s not enough for him.

One hand grips the back of your neck, guiding you forward, while the other unzips his jeans, freeing his already-hard cock. The sight of it makes your mouth water—thick, flushed, still glistening from the last time he was inside you.

“Open.” The command is sharp, leaving no room for hesitation.

You do.

Steve groans as he presses himself past your lips, his grip tightening in your hair. “That’s it,” he rasps, watching as you hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper.

He doesn’t start slow. He doesn’t ease you into it.

He thrusts forward, forcing you to take him all at once, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, fingers digging into his thighs for balance, but he only growls in approval, his other hand cupping your jaw to feel the stretch of your mouth around him.

“Fuck, you were made for this,” Steve breathes, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Your throat flutters around him as he sets the pace—deep, relentless. Your eyes well up, tears spilling down your cheeks as he fucks your mouth without restraint, using you like he owns you. Because he does.

His head tilts back slightly, a low moan escaping his lips as he watches you struggle to take it all. “Messy little thing,” he muses, dragging his thumb across your cheek, smearing the saliva and tears that drip down your chin. “Keep going.”

You do. You take it, ignoring the ache in your jaw, the burn in your throat. You want this—you want to make him fall apart.

And he does.

Steve’s rhythm stutters, his grip tightening as he forces himself as deep as you can take, groaning as he spills down your throat. You swallow instinctively, the taste of him coating your tongue as he pulls back with a satisfied sigh.

You’re a mess—lips swollen, spit glistening on your chin—but Steve only grins.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, thumb swiping over your bottom lip before he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your mouth.

Like he’s savouring the way he’s ruined you.

And you let him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Take You Home 1

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

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You awake in a strange place with a familiar man

Characters: Steve Kemp

Note: 🫢

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The sludge shifts in your skull as a rolling sensation surrounds you. There’s dull impact, soft but enough to jar you. Your voice drifts between your lips and tickles your clogged brain. Your eyes slit and a glow hazes your vision. 

You blink at the room, the wall obscure, only a shadow before you, a man’s distorted silhouette and his deep unintelligible timbre. Another creak in your throat and the world disappears once more behind your heavy eyelids. 

You plummet into the void, swirling and spinning. Your unconscious makes you dizzy with the unknown elixir coursing through your veins. A prick, sharp and deep, that’s all you can recall from the depths of nowhere. 

You languish there, down, down, where you don’t feel much, where you don’t think. Like a storm clearing, the clouds dissipate wisp by wisp and give way to a gray shroud. Your lashes bat, sticking together before you can peel them apart. 

Your muscles ache as you drag your arm up to wipe the drool from your cheek. Your eyes roll around as you take in the strange beige walls. You lay against once, crooked between it and the floor. You shift and touch the cushioned surface. 

You drop your arm and stare. What happened? Is this a hospital? Were you brought in for some sort of episode? If so, what kind of room doesn’t have any furniture? 

You bend your leg and push your elbows into the ground as you try to sit up. Your body is like stone. As you curl up in a shaking battle, there’s a tug on your ankle and the gentle clink of metal. Your head wobbles as you look down at the leather cuff. 

They don’t have those in any hospitals. 

A loud shink frightens you. You turn to the door as a space appears at the bottom. Through the small slat, a stack of folded garments is shoved through. You stare at the gloved hand before it quickly retracts. 

“Hello?” You call out. 

Silence. You stare at the clothing. What the hell is this? 

You sidle into the corner, or try to. You’re kept from it by the restraint on your ankle. You examine it. The sewn-in padlock has no give. Your eyes well with confusion and fear. 

You close your eyes and try to remember. The effort makes your head throb. You and your mom were having movie night. Just the two of you. Then there was a knock at the door. 

The door across from you rattles with an impact from the other side and breaks your concentration. “Put them on.” 

The voice is gravelly, deliberately so. The speaker intentionally lowers his octave. You must know him. No... 

It is Steve at the door. Your mom’s new boyfriend. New. Despite your protests, they were together for half a year. He always found a way to crash on your nights together. 

You look at the folded garments again. 

“I know it’s you,” your voice crackles sharply in your throat. 

He laughs and hits the door again. 

You shiver and sink down. You stare at the floor and wade back into memory. Further back but not so distant. 

“Mom, he kept touching me,” you tell your mother as she loads the dishwasher. 

“What? He’s just a touchy-feely guy, you know? I’m sure it was nothing.” 

“Mom,” you whine. 

“Well, if you have an issue, tell him,” she shrugs. “All I saw was a friendly nudge.” 

You huff, echoing the same in your current existence as the past shatters. You should have been more adamant. Louder. You tried. You really did. Your mom was willfully blind. You see that now. 

“He was outside my room last night...” 

“He was probably going to get water from the kitchen.” 

Every concern had an easy explanation but the constant stacking of the pieces couldn’t just be coincidence, and now you know. You weren’t wrong but it’s too late for all that. You knew Steve was slimy but you didn’t think he was deranged. 

“My mom will look for me,” you say. 

“Put the clothes on,” he demands, dropping all attempt at disguise. 

“You know she will. I won’t tell anyone how much of a creep you are if you let me go right now--” 

“Do as you’re told.” He slides the slat shut and you wince. 

You stay where you are. Your mom might not suspect him but she’ll look for you. She’ll find you. Once she sees your apartment is empty. Maybe even once she finds your diary and sees everything you wrote. Maybe then, she’ll hear you. 

You just hope it doesn’t take her that long. 

You linger in the stillness of the empty room. Just you and the chain hooked to the loop embedded in the floor. What the hell do you do now? 

Everyone always says they’d be different. They’d fight. They’d find a way out. It’s not that easy when there’s walls and a goddamn chain on your leg. Especially knowing that he’s prepared as much as you are completely not. 

The stagnant air thins as another rap comes on the door. You stare at the door and don’t move. Once more, the space turns stale. You hang your head, fighting down the panic swelling in your chest. 

A loud grind cuts through your fearful trance and the door swings open, sucking the air from the room. Steve storms toward you and rips you from against the wall. He rips your shirt up your torso until your arms are trapped and your blinded in the fabric. 

“Mph, what the frmph,” you growl into the tee. 

“I got you some nice clothes, honey, so go on and put them on.” He snarls as he stands with his feet on either side of you. 

“What is wrong—what are you doing?” You gasp as you push your shirt down. 

“Don’t make me help. You won’t like it,” he warns with a scowl. 

You stare up at him, searching his shadowed expression, “you’re sick.” 

“Don’t act like this isn’t exactly what you were begging for,” he nudges you with his toe then steps over you. “Two minutes, honey. More than enough time for you to come to your senses.” 

He stomps out and the door slams with a clanging echo that rattles your skull. There’s a hint of whatever he injected you with still sifting through your veins. The sluggishness only dulls your panic enough to keep from crying. 

You lean forward, hunching your shoulders and stare at the clothing. The way he pounced, the way he manhandled you, the way he did all this. This isn’t just a slip in judgment, this is meticulously planned. This is deviant. 

The whittling ache in your muscles assures you of little choice. You can resist but you don’t expect any different. Fighting him, him overpowering you, nothing about these walls, that chain, or his strength gives you hope. This is a battle you already lost. 

You reach for the mussed pile and unravel the first piece. A pair of sheer pink panties and a matching bra. The set is not your style. You prefer denim and cotton. Something comfortable and simple. 

Other memories trickle in. The comments. ‘This would look nice on you’ or ‘don’t you have anything with colour?’ Ugh. 

You’re slowed by whatever he put in you. You peel off your shirt. In his effort to strip you, he scratched your stomach. Your side stings from the cut of his nails. Him and his manicures. Everything about him was always too perfect. 

When was it that he got you? You’re fuzzy. You remember your mom on the couch. She fell asleep watching something. You went to the kitchen to get some water and then... nothing. It’s a fog. 

You turn your back to the door. You don’t know why. It doesn’t really matter. Your insides curdle as you pull on the panties first. Each piece is a symbol of your submission. The bra is too small. It pinches as your tits wobble over the cups. 

The dress is just as bad. Pink, the ruching along the sleeves give a small ruffle effect and the skirt dances on your thighs. You tug it down as far as you can then huddle into the wall. 

Your disbelief is padded in horror. The longer you sit in reality, the more virulent the dread. You stare at the door. This is real. There is no escape. 

You pick at the cuff on your ankle without thinking. You blink, the world fracture by black slides, and your breath puffs behind your ears. Your head is going to combust. 

The door jerks. You wince as the lock twists. You press yourself to the wall. 

Steve enters. He changed. His turtleneck and black jeans have been exchanged for dark slacks and a navy blue button-up. His hair is quaffed 

“Ah, you’re ready,” he grins. You glare at him. He looks you over and a smoky light passes through his blue irises. “Now, baby, you gonna be a good girl for me? I got a special night planned for us.” 

You grit your teeth and hold back the retort crawling on your tongue. You can’t move or speak. You know if you do, you’ll regret it. 

“Alright, you sit pretty,” he purrs. 

He leaves the door open as he struts out. It’s a blatant taunt. You couldn’t leave if you wanted. This is all just a joke to him. You have a chain on you, you don’t need the walls or the heavy lock. He has you snared. 

He enters again. He unfolded the table in his hand, locking the legs in place. He hums as he passes in and out; chairs, plates, wine glasses, he sets up the twisted romantic tableau. He sets a candle at the center and lights it. 

“Hungry? You gotta be.” He approaches you as your eyes cling to the floor. 

Your stomach is hollow. Painfully so. You don’t acknowledge him as you ball your fists. 

“You need some help? How’s that head feeling, honey?” 

Your eyes flick up to him. His pupils pinpoint and he offers his hand. You consider it closely then relent. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. You don’t know that you can do it yourself. 

He takes you to the table and sits you down. Just at the end of your tether. You stare at the plates he’s set out with glazed chicken, pilaf rice, and roasted veggies. As hungry as you are, the smell is repulsive. 

He uncorks the wine and fills the glasses. He puts one in front of you and slides one closer to his plate. He sits across from you and grins. He raises his glass. 

“For you, honey,” he winks. 

You look at the glass. Your hand shakes. You focus on the small effort of reaching for it. You shake as you hover your hand over the table. It’s anger, not weakness that has you trembling. 

You look at Steve as he watches you intently. You close your hand and grip the bottom candlestick. You lift it and jab it towards him, splashing him with hot wax as you ram the flame towards him. He spills the wine as he bats away your attack. 

The heavy holder falls out of your grasp and he rams the table into your stomach. It takes the breath out of you and you wheeze. He stands and you push on the chair, trying to stand. He storms around and kicks the legs out from under the chair. You crash to the ground with a cry. 

He kicks your shoulder and pins you to the ground as he stands on it. His other foot is planted right beside you. He pants and growls down at you as rage deepens the lines in his face. 

“Fine,” he sinks his heel into you, “let’s do it the hard way.”  

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Just Like Him

Kinktober 2024 - Day 23

Pairing: Dark!Steve Kemp x Innocent!Fem!Reader

Kink: Anal Sex

Word Count: 1700+

Summary: You can't help but fall for Steve's charm and maybe, just maybe, he's falling for you too. (Or Steve loves you cause you're just like him)

Warnings: DUB-CON/NON-CON, Dark themes, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrom, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected sex, anal sex, anal fingering, vaginal fingering, spit as lube, brief oral sex (f! receiving), allusions to multiple orgasms, messy sex, rough sex, d/s dynamics, biting, marking, obsession, slight degrading, slight breast play, choking kink, doggy style, nicknames (baby, little one, little slut)), sorta!soft!Steve, corrupted!reader

a/n: Here is Day 23! I know I'm a little late posting but my classes have been kicking my ass and I'm so freaking tired! I will do my best to post on time for the rest of this month!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

You’re not sure how long you had been imprisoned in Steve’s basement. All you know is that two women had come and gone from the cell next to yours. He had killed them and cut them up and sold them to the highest bidder. He hadn’t taken anything from you, though. He’s threatened to cut you up from time to time but he hadn’t tried to. You weren’t sure why he was so nice to you, in his own twisted way but he was nice. He brought you books, blankets, and sweet treats most of the times he came into your cell. While the other women were screaming when he went into their cell, you were giggling at some stupid joke he told you.

It was safe to say that you were, rather reluctantly, falling in love with the psycho. He was gentle when leading you to the bathroom for a shower, he respected your privacy, even if the cuffs stayed on, he gave you little freedoms. He treated you like glass even if he did smack you around if you pissed him off, but you rarely did that anymore. You found it nicer to just listen to him. 

You stared at the same landscape on the wall that was slowly becoming a part of your nightmares, but it was almost peaceful if you forgot where you were. You heard Steve’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and up to the cell next to yours and you could hear the sound of the plastic tray hitting the floor before the cell door closed, and he made his way over to your cell. You heard the telltale click of the lock and the door sliding open. 

Steve stepped into your cell with a garment bag and a tray of food, he locked eyes with you and gave you a dark grin. “Good morning, little one.” He hummed before setting the tray next to you, but your eyes stayed on the landscape. “I have a surprise for you.” He whispered and kneeled beside you and set the garment bag on the bed in front of you. 

You pulled your eyes away from the landscape to look him in the eyes, “Hm?” You hummed softly with a soft smile on your face. 

He chuckled at the sleepy look on your face, “I was thinking that me and you could have dinner tonight. I’ll make you something nice.” He smirked and caressed your cheek softly, you leaned into his palm, loving his kind touch. 

“Who will it be?” You asked already knowing that the dinner will have some form of meat that didn’t come from an animal. 

“Don’t know yet, but I can make you something else?” He offered and you smiled wider before shaking your head. 

“No.” You whispered looking down then up again, “I want to try it.”

He smirked wider and wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you up to kiss your lips hungrily. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, “Naughty girl. I knew you were special.” He whispered and pecked your nose. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He smirked before leaving the cell. 

That night, you put on the red bell sleeved dress that he gave you. It cut up to your upper thigh and the sleeves billowed out like bat wings, and you wore small Mary Jane matching heels. Earlier that day, Steve had led you to the bathroom, and let you shower and shave before taking you back down to the cell. He left the cell unlocked but your cuffs were on and you walked up the stairs shakily. You followed the smell of food to find Steve in the kitchen, stirring a pot of sauce.

“Hello, little one.” Steve said with his back to you as you walked up to the counter and sat down on one of the bar stools. He had a charcuterie board set up with dried meats, assorted cheeses, crackers, and fruit. The board was in the shape of a heart, it was cute, a bit cheesy but you found it endearing. Steve walked away from the stove and over to you, he grabbed the chains from the floor and clipped them to the ‘D’ ring of your cuffs, locking them with a padlock. “Don’t want you running away.” He hummed and kissed your lips softly. 

You pulled away and looked up at him with doe eyes, “Don’t wanna run away.” You whispered as your fingers played with his sweater. “Want to stay with you.” 

He gave you a soft smile and caressed your cheek softly, “Good girl.” He whispered and pecked your lips before pulling away, “Eat some of the charcuterie, it’s delicious.” He smirked and grabbed a piece of cheese and meat and popped it into his mouth. 

You grabbed a cracker, a piece of cheese, and a piece of the dried meat. You stacked them on top of the cracker and ate it slowly, the meat melting on your tongue and the flavors exploding in your mouth, “Mm, that’s good.” You hummed and reached for another piece. 

Steve smirked at you as you ate some more of the meat and cheese, “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, little one.” He winked at you as you watched him move around the kitchen. 

After dinner, you and Steve were tipsy on wine and he led you to his bedroom. His lips on yours as he laid you down on the comforter, his strong hands gripping your waist and hips as he crawled on top of you. You moaned into his mouth, letting his tongue invade your mouth and your senses. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

His hands were slow as they undid your dress and pulled it from your body, leaving you in your panties. Your nipples peaked as they were exposed to the cool air of the room. He smirked and placed his hands on your breasts, his palms massaging your sensitive nipple. “So pretty like this, little one.” He hummed, plucking your nipples with each hand, pinching and tugging them softly, making soft gasps and moans leave your lips. You looked away as your cheeks flushed a deep pink, making him chuckle. “So shy. Keep your eyes on me, baby.” He whispered as his fingers continued their movements on your puffy nipples. 

You looked at him as he played with your body, how he wanted. You felt your cunt soaking your white panties, leaving a viable wet spot on the gusset of the fabric. You whined as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking softly and leaving a teasing bite on the bud. He pulled back and shucked his sweater over his head and tossed it away, revealing his bare chest to your hungry eyes. 

You moved your hands up to caress his taut abs and up to his pecs, “You’re so handsome.” You said softly as your eyes followed his happy trail to the hem of his pants. “Wanna see all of you, Steve.” 

He smirked and leaned down and kissed your lips as he undid his slacks and shimmed out of them leaving him in his boxers. “Sweet girl.” He purred and kissed down your neck softly. You moaned as he sucked and bit on your sensitive neck, biting hard enough to break the skin.

You hissed and pulled away and pressed a hand against your bleeding neck. “S-Steve?” You stuttered looking up at him, and he gave you a bloody smirk. 

“Just wanted a taste of you.” He smirked before kissing your lips again, the metallic taste staining your tastebuds. “Just relax, baby.” He hummed and rolled you over onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up to his face and he yanked your panties off, revealing your soaked core and your tight back hole to him. 

He lapped through your folds, moaning at your taste on his tongue. His hands spreading you further apart for him as he nuzzled deeper in your cunt. He moved up to lap at your tight hole softly, prodding it with the tip of his tongue. 

You were startled and tried to pull away, “W-what are you doing?” You asked in a nervous voice, as his hands kept you against his face. 

“Mm. Just getting you ready.” He hummed lapping at your tight hole, getting it sloppy for him before he pulled his face away and dragged his finger through your wetness, then slowly pushed it into your hole. You gasped at the sensation, never having anything in your back hole. “Sh, sh. I’ll take care of you.” He whispered as his thumb circled your clit steadily as he worked his finger deeper into you. 

He worked three fingers into your hole, making you cum once with the stimulation from his fingers stroking your walls and his thumb rubbing at your clit. You were a whimpering mess by the time he lubed up his cock and was working his thick length into your stretched hole. You cried out at the mix of pleasure and pain coursing through you as his cock manipulated and your walls to fit his cock deep in you. His thumb never let up on your clit, rubbing fast and tight circles on your sensitive bud. 

Your hole squeezed his cock as he started thrusting shallowly in and out of your ass, while he slipped two fingers into your dripping cunt. His free hand gripped your ass cheek, spreading it open so he could watch his cock, slide in and out of your hole. You gripped the pillows in front of you tight, moaning and whining with each thrust, him bullying his cock deeper into you. He spanked your asscheek once, then twice, and over and over until your ass was red and tingling with pain. The pain turned into pleasure as he sped up his thrusts.

His fingers curled up in your cunt, stroking your sweet spot slowly, making your thighs shake uncontrollably. You whined as tears fell from your eyes and down your cheeks, leaving wet tracks on your cheeks. He smirked and used his free hand to wrap around your neck and yank you up. The new position sliding him deeper into your asshole. 

“Mm, this is so much better than eating you. Fuck, you’re perfect for this. My little girl. So innocent.” He groaned as your walls gripped him perfectly. “But you’re not that innocent, you’re just like me.” He smirked and lapped at the bite on your neck as he squeezed your windpipe, cutting off your air flow, making you feel dizzy. “Perfect little slut.” He murmured against your skin. “I’m not letting you go anywhere. You’re mine.”

[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.

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi firstly I love your work secondly I have a request about something like Lee cheating on reader hurting her bad eventually she moves on with Steve Kemp and one day Lee sees reader again he tries to win her back troubling a bit and Steve comes to comfort protect her and he scares Lee in unique way (we know what Kemp does for a living 😉)

hello, thank you! and I hope you like this!

summary - lee cheats on you which causes you to spend time finding yourself, leading you toward your new love steve kemp. what happens when the one who broke your heart finds you again?

warning - angst, cheating, violence, mentions of cannibalism.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by a deactivated again:(

No one ever prepared you for the pain of being cheated on, you thought that Lee was the one, having been together for five years. You had dreamt of the two of you getting married, being the perfect little housewife for him. You never expected to walk in on him balls deep inside his secretary, the very one he told you not to worry about. Everything was blurry after that, you could barely remember you storming out of his office, or that he didn’t even chase after you. You didn’t wait for him to come home, you immediately packed your things and left the house, letting him come home to an empty house. 

It had been two years since you had your heart broken and through those years you had managed to love yourself and find love again, even though your trust issues would spike at times. From time to time, you would get flashbacks of walking in on Lee, getting stabbing pains in your chest when you remember each painful detail of that day. You stare blankly ahead, lost in your thoughts with a coffee in your hand, you couldn’t hear as Steve calls for you.

“Sweetheart.” 

You remember walking in, dropping the freshly baked biscuits to the ground as you watched the love of your life fuck into his very young and pretty secretary that’s bent over the desk. You remember how his head turned and he just smirked at you, it felt as though your heart was being ripped out.

“Y/n!” You blink, feeling a burning sensation on your hand and your eyes move down, causing you to notice your recently bought coffee has now crumbled into your hand as the liquid flows out of it, burning your flesh. “Fuck, Honey. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Steve gently removes the ruined coffee from your hold and into the trash before he pulls you over to a bathroom and carefully cleans your hands. “Flashbacks again?” You nod, “I’m sorry, I forgot that, that particular pet name was what he used.” 

“It’s okay… It’s my fault.” You stare at him with wide eyes as he glares at you. 

“No it’s not, it’s never your fault!” He gently takes your face in his hands and places a soft kiss on your lips. 

Steve Kemp, what a dream he was. You had met him during a time where you were between loving yourself and finding love again. You had been walking past your local hospital and ran into him as he was coming out, gobsmacked as to how they hired such handsome doctors. You even blurted out asking if his looks distracted the other doctors from their job. He laughed, causing your mind to become fuzzy as you stared up at him dazedly. For the first time in a long time, you felt happy and through that happiness, you asked him out. Thankfully, he accepted and here you are, staring at the godlike man as he cleans the hot coffee from your hands.

“I love you…” He looks at you and smiles, bringing your hands up to his lips and kissing them softly.

“I love you, honey. Now, there won’t be any scars or damage. So are you ready to go? I can reorder a drink, maybe a cold one this time.” You smile, nodding and letting him help you down from the sink. Steve wraps his arm around you gently, leading you back out into the coffee shop and lines up to reorder an iced coffee. 

As you leave the coffee shop, waiting for Steve, your world begins to crash as you hear a familiar voice. “Well if it isn’t my little ol’ sweetheart!” Your eyes widen as you turn and stare at the chubby man making his way over to you. How the hell was this possible? He made it clear that he would never leave his hometown. “You’re a hard woman to find.” He stands in front of you, a smirk on his face. “Now, what do you say, baby. You come back home, this little spat of yours has gone on long enough.” Lee’s grubby hands reach forward and grip your arm, you didn’t know how you ever fell in love with him. 

“Get your hands off of me! We are over! Did that not go through your head when I left after I caught you fucking someone else?!” You struggle against his hold, looking behind you in hopes that Steve comes out soon. 

“Pfft, please. That wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last, so now, Sweetheart. You are gonna shut your pretty mouth and come with me, and then, you will turn a blind eye whenever I go out with another woman. You hear?” 

“Well that isn’t happening.” Steve steps out, your iced coffee in his hand. He stares down the man, not flinching as Lee tries to intimidate him. “I suggest you let go of my girl.” He speaks slowly, but clearly. When Lee doesn’t let go, only tightening his hold on your arms, causing you to let out a whimper. With quick movement, Steve steps forward and grabs ahold of Lee’s wrist, gripping it and beginning to twist. His glare sharpens as Lee lets out grunts of pain. Steve leans forward and whispers, “If you touch, look, speak or even think of my girl again. I will cut you up into little pieces and serve you to your town.” Lee’s eyes widen and he immediately lets go and backs up, usually nothing would scare Lee, but the seriousness in Steve’s voice and eyes made him rethink everything. 

Steve’s arm wraps around you and he hands you your drink, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Right, well. You aren’t worth this much trouble.” Lee clears his throat and quickly walks away, and you look up at Steve.

“Did you threaten to cut him up?” Steve looks down at you and smiles.

“Of course, and also you are worth it.” He winks at you and you shake your head with a smile.

“I mean… I wouldn’t stop you if you went through with it.”

And with those words, a plan began to form inside of Steve’s head. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[sweetiebarnes]

FAVORITE PLACES

Various characters and their favorite places to have sex.

Warnings: public sex, shower sex, car sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, cum kink, basically this is all filth.

A/N: Please do not report this! It's so frustrating to have things reported. If I missed any warnings you feel should be listed, please let me know. Gifs made by me. I know I didn't list all of Seb's characters, but I did some of my favorites.

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 - After being denied pleasure for many years, Bucky is desperate. He’s more than happy to have sex any place at any time. Out to dinner with friends? He doesn’t care, he’ll gladly take you in the bathroom of the restaurant. Heading to a mission? No better place than the back of the jet. He even took you in the laundry room of your parent’s house. The man is insatiable. 

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐧- Carter loves the thrill of making you cum while riding the elevator. It all started when the two of you got stuck on one. He knew he needed to distract you somehow. What better way than having you cum on his cock? Now, whenever you two ride one together, he considers it a challenge to see just how fast he can make you cum.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 - Charles loves to take you apart in the back seat of his red convertible. He gets even more excited when you let him keep the top down. It’s almost like he’s determined to get caught. He craves the sound of your moans and screams. Let the townspeople hear you while his tongue is buried deep into your soaked pussy. 

𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 - The gym, of course. Lance loves to use the different gymnastics equipment to his advantage. You'd never considered yourself to be flexible. That is, until Lance came along. He causes you to bend and stretch in ways you didn't even know was possible. Whether it's bending you over the pommel horse or having you ride him on top of the mats, he always manages to give you a solid workout.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 - Lee loves to fuck you at the station. It all started when he spotted two of his deputies staring at your ass. That afternoon he made sure they all knew who you belonged to. He bent you over his desk and pounded into you until you were screaming his name. Now anytime you bring his lunch (which happens frequently). Everyone in the station knows what’s about to happen. Lee can't help but feel smug as you walk out of his office with his cum running down your thighs.

𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 - Max craves the riches in life. He lives for the thrill. He loves to have sex in your current mark's house. Once, you were conning a millionaire. Max fucked you up against the window of the man's penthouse. He always finds a way to be a part of the con. Whether it's posing as your best friend, brother, or coworker. He doesn't care. As long he finds a way to have you.

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 - Mickey loves to fool around inside his DJ booth. Once the club was so dark, he was able to fuck you without anyone noticing. He's constantly looking for opportunities to make it happen again. But most of the time, the two of you are only able to manage to sneak in a blow job or some fingering. It doesn't matter though, because the set is over. He'll find a place so he can be buried deep inside your pussy.

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐫- Nick loves to take you apart in the shower. There's just something about the way the water trickles down your breasts that makes him feral. He loves the way you look with your hair soaked and the blissed-out expression on your face. Whether it's first thing in the morning or ending a long day. Nothing relaxes Nick more than a shower with you.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐦𝐩 - Steve never expected to be able to fuck you once he put you in his basement. No, he thought once you found out the truth of everything, you’d want nothing to do with him. But that wasn’t the case at all. He quickly realizes you're just as twisted as he is. So, that's why he loves to fuck you while you're locked away. Knowing that his other victims are listening only causes him to want this more.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

What do you think about reader getting mad at Dr. Kemp and just saying “Bite me!” before immediately realizing what she said to him?

Thoughts on the reader saying “Bite me!” to Steve Kemp

Pairings: Steve Kemp x Female Reader

Summary: You get mad at Steve and end up saying “Bite me!” to him and immediately realize what you said to him.

Warnings: none except for some implied Smut (18+) and pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“I can’t believe you did it again after I you not to!” You say, raising your voice at Steve.

“Sweetheart, it’s not that big of deal.” Steve says, trying to reason with you.

You got mad at Steve for taking some of your “meat” again after you told him not to.

“It is a big deal, Steve!” You said. “You took some of my “meat” without my permission!” You say.

“You’re acting like I cut off one of your limps and you know I didn’t.” He says.

“It feels like you took more than that!” You say.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” He asks.

“You think I’m overreacting?” You scoffed. “You know what… bite me!” You shouted.

Your eyes widened when you immediately realized what you said.

“Steve, I didn’t mean…” The words died on your tongue when you watched a smirk form on his face.

“What did you mean then, sweetheart?” Steve asks, standing up from his seat.

You were stammering while walking backwards as he approached you. You were stopped by a wall. Steve put one of his hands on the wall next to your head and his other hand tilted your head up so you were looking in his eyes that are now clouded with lust.

“If you want me to bite you, I will.” His voice was low and seductive. “I won’t do it in the way you’re thinking.” He whispers in your ear.

Steve picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you to yours and his bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and hovered over you.

“I’ll be more than happy to bite you in this way, baby.” He says huskily.

🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺

-Bucky’s Doll

[leopar6eyes]

unfortunately i’d have stockholm syndrome…

credit: bvckleysfilms

[buckythinker]

Oh my fucking god i have NEVER wanted a man so bad. Fuck me

[homiesexuallaj]

Steve Kemp + Blood Kink

Pairing: Steve Kemp x reader

Genre/Warnings: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of murder, mentions of menstrual cycles, face slapping, biting, smut, very long and descriptive foreplay, slight possessive! Steve, mentions of blood, head (fem receiving), cunnilingus, spitting, orgasm denial if you squint, name calling, kinda proofread

A/N: Watched Fresh for the first time the other day and then I got my period a few days later. Steve Kemp has been on my mind lately and being the cannibal and freak he is, of course he has a blood kink

———

Never mind that you met the charming, handsome stranger during a late night run to the grocery store for some much needed food. Never mind that he asked for your phone number, you gave it, and he texted you three days later. Never mind that this handsome stranger took you out on bar bonding nights and midday coffee dates. Never mind that you introduced this charming stranger to your best friend since forever. Never mind that this man had invited you to his rather nice, but secluded house up and away in the woods. Never mind that after, maybe, one too many drinks you passed out on his couch and awoke on a rather comfy bed that was placed in the floor with a wrist cuffed to a chain. Never mind that the charming, handsome stranger held you down on said bed while you screamed and cried to be let go. Never mind that he promised to feed you, to clean you, to keep you dressed and warm as long as you behaved.

Never mind the girl just on the other side of the wall was in disbelief that he’d actually fucked you and touched you in ways that he didn’t do to her, or others. Never mind the begging and screaming you heard from other girls in nearby rooms as the stranger dragged them down the halls. Never mind the groggy groans that followed after he carried the other girls back to their rooms. Never mind how the girl next to your room, and the one a room over, told you stories of how your charming stranger is a raging cannibal who cuts limbs off and keeps women alive for as long as he can before killing them off like livestock.

Never mind all of that because your handsome, charming stranger had never taken any part of your body from you. Never mind all of that because your handsome stranger had never hurt you.. without reason, of course. Never mind all that because while the stranger is making your neighbors scream and cry from fear, he’s making you scream and cry for entirely different reasons.

Never mind all of that because Steve Kemp is a freak.

——

You’d been whimpering and whining, pushing and blocking for the past ten minutes now. You should know better than to try and fight Steve off in any way, but you had a good reason to. You had an actual, legitimate reason to push Steve away today. This reason would be that same reason you’d give him if he tried anymore during the week.

So, Steve handled your misbehaving in the way that always seemed to work.

Your head was jerked to the side and your cheek stung with a heated pain. The skin was already tinted red from the harsh contact. You gasped from shock and grabbed your cheek with a tender hand as you turned your head to look back at Steve.

He was glaring down at you from his position of crouched above you.

“Quit that,” Steve slapped your other cheek with the same force he used to slap you the first time. His voice was a low growl as he spoke. “Quit pushing me away. You know better.”

You whimpered as you looked up at Steve with teary eyes. You held both of your cheeks, doing your best to the soothe the heated skin. You winced a little as the muscles of your pelvis clenched painfully.

Steve didn’t seem to care as he forced your hands away from your face to grab at your cheeks with one large hand. He squeezed your cheeks, shaking your face a little. It was almost like he was trying to shake some sense into you.

“Why’re you fighting me off today, huh?” Steve asked, confused and irritated. “You’re so usually so good for me. What’s the matter with you? I don’t want to punish you, but I will if I have to.”

You couldn’t fight the shiver that skittered up your spine as Steve mentioned punishing you. You knew what that meant. It was something that Steve used to threaten you with all the time when you first woke up in the basement, but the threats lessened as time went on and you accepted your fate. You shook your head at the mention of the threat.

“We can’t, Steve,” You told him with a timid voice. “I-“

“Why?” Steve jerked your head as he pressed for information.

“I’m bleeding,” You answered. “I- We can’t-”

“You’re bleeding?” The actuality of your answer didn’t click in Steve’s head yet. He scoffed as he continued. “What’d you do? There’s nothing sharp in here to cut yourself on. You’re making excuses.”

“No, Steve,” You cut him off, though you know you shouldn’t. “I’m- I’m on my period. And I’m bleeding, a lot.”

Steve blinked at you. The crease between his brows went away as he raised them. The grip on your face loosened a little. A look mixed up of realization and humor replaced the harsh confusion that previously clouded Steve’s handsome face.

“That’s it?” He asked with a light chuckle. “Just your period? You should know by now that I don’t care. I’ve eaten you out on your period before and you taste divine, baby.”

“It’s a lot this time,” You told Steve with a quiet voice. “It’s messy.”

“I don’t care.”

With that, Steve moved a hand to cup the back of your neck and raised his other to hold the side of your face. He leaned in just as quick, pressing his lips against yours in an insistent kiss. He moved his mouth against yours, titling his head the other way every couple of kisses. His nose occasionally bumped against yours. As his tongue bullied its way into your mouth, he groaned at the taste of you as he gently pushed you back to lay on the bed.

You wrapped your arms around Steve’s neck as he pushed you back. The clink of the chain connecting your wrist to the floor announced your movements. You did your best to follow his lead. You didn’t fight back as Steve’s tongue pressed into your mouth, you gave in almost instantly and pressed your tongue forward to meet his halfway. You sighed out through your nose as Steve’s saliva dripped into your mouth, mixing with you. You let Steve between your thighs as he nudged your legs apart so he could settle between them, but you pulled your thighs up and tried to squeeze them together as you felt thick, sticky liquid seep from your cunt.

“Ah ah,” Steve tutted, pulling away from you. “Let me in. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s gonna be messy,” You lightly pleaded. “I’m gonna stain the sheets.”

“Stains can be washed and sheets can be changed,” Steve pointed out, sitting up slightly to look down at you. His hands moved to your hips, slipping underneath your shirt. “You’ll be fine. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

Steve leaned down again, connecting your lips with his once again. He licked into your mouth and nipped at your bottom lip. Slowly, Steve pushed your shirt up, revealing your torso inch by inch.

You arched your back against Steve’s touch, squirming slightly to help him push your shirt up. You sat up slightly so Steve could slip your shirt up your shoulder blades and over your head. Slipping your arms out from the shirt, you tossed the fabric lightly to the side.

Down here, in the basement of Steve’s house in the middle of nowhere, you didn’t bother wearing a bra. Actually, after Steve had taken your clothes and eventually given you new ones, he never gave you a bra. There was no need for it, he reasoned. He was the only man that was going to be seeing you after all, and there was no need to hide from him. Your roomie in the next room had called Steve a “sick fuck” after she heard that conversation for the first time.

When you settled back into the bed, Steve’s lips were back on yours and your hands made their subtle journey down his sides and under his shirt.

As Steve peppered wet kisses over the apple of your cheek, over your jawline, and down the column of your throat, you inched his shirt higher and higher up his body. You revealed his heated skin to the chill of the room and his rippling back muscles to whatever judgy god was watching you two from above. Your short nails scratched up his back lightly and the pads of your fingers bumped along the ridge of Steve’s vertebrae.

“Alright. Alright. I hear ya,” Steve muttered when you’d gotten his shirt bunched up over his shoulder blades.

He pulled away from you, away from the skin of your neck, and sat up. Steve grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed the fabric to the side to join your shirt and you barely had enough time to admire before Steve was diving back in to kiss and lick at your neck.

Steve groaned as you practically invaded his senses. His eyes were closed, but he could feel your soft skin beneath his fingers, against his tongue, and between his teeth. He could smell you this close, that sweet but musky human scent that was purely you. The smell complimented the taste of your skin, of your neck. It was an indescribable taste, something sweet, salty, and downright savory. Steve would almost rather have you than whatever poor girl sat frozen away in his walk-in freezer. And the way you sounded, oh god. You weren’t noisy by any means, or not yet, at least. The little ins and outs of your breathing, the way your breath hitches if his fingers found that one spot, if his lips sucked too hard, or if he nipped your skin were all like music to Steve’s ears.

Steve really could get lost in you, in more ways than one.

You were loosing a battle with keeping quiet. Your head was tilted away and your bottom lip between your teeth. Your eyes were screwed shut and you breathed through your nose. Every kiss and lick that Steve gifted to the exposed skin of your neck had heat building beneath your skin and had blood pounding in your ears. Your breath hitched and your fingers twitched against Steve’s back when he started to nip his way down your pulse point, all the way down to your collarbone. You felt him double back, licking up to the area where your neck met your shoulder. Up another inch and you lost your internal battle.

Steve sunk his teeth into that spot on your neck, biting til it hurt but not to break skin. This had caused you to yelp and let out something that sounded like both a moan and a whine. And when he tugged, you whimpered.

“There you go,” Steve mumbled, pulling his teeth from your skin and kissing at the affected area. “Go ahead and tell all these other girls who makes you feel so good. Go ahead and tell them that there are other ways to be eaten, that there are many forms of hunger to be satisfied.” Steve shifted, pulling away and coming back to kiss you again. His voice was a low growl as he continued on, “Tell them that you’re mine and I’m yours. No one else will have me like this, just like no one else will have you.”

Steve kissed you once more, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away.

You could see the heat in his eyes before he dipped his head back down towards you.

Steve left open-mouthed kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, and between the valley of your breasts. He nipped and stopped to suck in a few spots as well, leaving marks. You could feel the graze of his teeth, feeling the threat and promise the bones held. His hands groped and grabbed at you, leading his mouth down your body.

He continued on down, his lips leaving a heated trail of goosebumps. Soon enough, both his hands and his lips were stopped by the barrier of the sweatpants that you wore. He paused.

You looked down when Steve stopped, only to meet those stormy blue orbs staring right back. You held his gaze, your heart pitter-pattering beneath your sternum. You watched as he cast a fleeting glance towards the barrier before looking right back up at you again. You felt his fingers twitch before he slipped each of his fingers one-by-one underneath the waistband until Steve could slowly drag his hands down your thighs and expose you almost completely to his watchful eyes.

Steve pushed your sweatpants down your thighs and over your knees. He leaned down and nudged your thighs apart just enough to nuzzle against the bloody crotch of your panties. Steve kissed the area, opening his mouth and flattening his tongue against the damp fabric when he delivered his second kiss.

It was the first day of your period, and with this being the first time Steve visited you today, you hadn’t had a chance to ask for any menstrual products yet. So, you were left to stain your underwear until you got some. You’d have to ask after Steve got his fill of you.

You helped rid of the sweats and Steve tossed them to the side. When you felt his deft fingers curl around the bottom hem of your panties, you lifted your hips. You could feel the way the panties stuck to your messy lips and how they only could be managed to peel away from your center at the last minute. Your cringed a little at the sight of your bloody underwear, embarrassment began to heat your cheeks at the sight. But you yelped as you felt teeth nip at your inner thigh.

“Don’t make that face,” Steve demanded with a low voice. He was looking up at you as he dropped your panties into the pile of clothes. “You’re beautiful all bloodied up like this.”

You blushed for an entirely different reason now, still looking down at Steve shyly. You gripped the sheets below you as Steve leaned down, bracing yourself for his next actions.

Steve moved your legs so they were tossed over his shoulders. His hands on your hips squeezed the flesh, splaying his large hands out against you. He turned his head to lick at one of your inner thighs, groaning at the irony taste of blood that made a mess there. Steve sucked at the sink there, leaving more loving marks to dirty up your skin in a different way.

You squirmed and whined beneath Steve. The hickies on your inner thighs always hurt to receive, but wasn’t that the point? You can’t have a little love without pain. That’s what Steve always told you. Your heart rate picked up and your breathing hitched with each suck and lick against your skin. You could feel the heat in your abdomen build and bubble over as arousal mixed with blood dripped from your cunt.

“Makin’ a mess,” Steve mumbled, switching to your other thigh.

He gave you the same treatment on this side too, cleaning up the smeared blood and leaving hickies that throbbed with hurt. When he got to the crease in your thigh, you shifted as you patiently waited for his tongue to touch you where you needed him. You needed him to touch you, taste you, anywhere as long as it was in the area you wanted him in.

Finally, after taking his time cleaning up your thighs with his tongue, groaning at the taste while he did, Steve finally flattened his tongue against your cunt. He licked a slow, deliberate strip from your hole and up to your clit. Steve did this once, twice, three more times to gather you up on his tongue and swallow you down. He groaned while he did it, moaning into your lower lips in a way that you could feel all the way up your spine.

You whined below him, biting your lower lip. You squeezed your eyes shut and laid your head back on the pillow behind you. You reached down to card your fingers through Steve’s soft hair, scratching at his scalp in an almost loving way before tangling your hands in his hair and grabbing at the strands. You could feel the way Steve took his time, gently holding your hips in his hands and licking between your folds.

Steve made sure to clean you up real nice. He made sure to dip his tongue between all your crevices and leave behind shiny spit. And of course he could feel your clit throbbing beneath his tongue, which is why he flattened his tongue against the bundle of nerves so he could drag his tongue up and down in a slow pace. He moaned into you when you pulled his hair. Steve pulled away, looking at the string of spit that still connect him to you.

When you looked down to see why he stopped, you watched as Steve pursed his lips slightly to let a glob of spit drip from his lips and fall into the mix that was your messy cunt. His eyes were on the mess before they flickered up to you, catching your heated gaze with one of his own. Your heart skittered beneath your ribcage at the sight of Steve.

His lips, chin, and the very tip of his nose was a mess of blood and your arousal. Due to the mess of bodily fluids between your thighs, the liquids dripped once or twice from Steve’s chin and down onto the pristine white sheets you lay on. His pupils were blown, covered in a haze of pussy-drunk heat.

“You taste better than you usually you’ve, y’know?” Steve comments. His words are emphasized by a squeeze to your hip.

You know what he means by that. You think this is why Steve hasn’t taken anything from you, any flesh or limbs. Because he likes you like this better, in one piece so he can feel you grab at his hair as he feasts between your thighs. You’re thankful that he does, so you don’t have to suffer the same fate as your next door roomies. For now, at least..

You respond to him with a nod, bottom lip between your teeth still. When Steve leans back down, you lay your head back down and close your eyes as pleasure coursed through your nerves and heats up the blood in your veins. Maybe even the blood that still seeps from your leaky cunt as well.

Steve continues his slow paced assault, licking you up with a heavy tongue. He’s taking his upmost time, like he has nowhere else to be. Perhaps he doesn’t. His tongue dips low and prods, like he’s searching for something. Then, he finds the opening of your cunt, the source of the thick blood and leaky arousal.

You moan aloud this time, not too loudly. But the feeling of Steve easing his tongue inside of you has your whimpers melting away into moans. Even more so as you feel his tongue squirm and search around, going as far as it can inside of you. Your mouth falls open and your fingers tighten in his hair as you feel Steve take his time fucking you with his tongue. It’s a slow drag out and a slow push in. You squirm below him, heightening your pleasure just a tad more as your hips shift.

Steve hums against you as he pulls his tongue from you to lick up your slit again. The sound travels up your spinal cord and settles in your chest. He leaves open mouthed kisses against your lower lips, still licking up your taste with his tongue, and sucking and pulling at your lips and clit with his mouth. He’s mindful to watch his teeth though, keeping them away from any sensitive parts.

You can feel how much of a mess Steve his making. Your inner thighs are cold and you can feel warm bodily fluids drip down your ass and soak into the sheets below you. You’d be embarrassed if you were in the right mind, but Steve’s tongue has smudged your usual morals into nothing but an unreadable fog. The only thing you can feel is his tongue and lips on you, and his hands grasping your hips. The only things you can hear are the messy sound of your cunt, Steve’s moans and groans, and your own moans in the, otherwise, empty room.

Slowly, as the minutes tick by, you can feel your pleasure burying itself into the muscles of your pelvis. Your fingers tighten in Steve’s hair and your thighs twitch on either side of his head. Your hips still squirm underneath his lips and your back has a slight arch to it as you try to press yourself more into his mouth.

Steve has picked up pace by now, switching between licking and sucking at your folds and clit. He gives equal attention to both, prolonging your pleasure and unknowingly denying your orgasm as he gives no special attention to your clit just yet.

He’s eaten you out for so long now that you’re not sure how much time as passed. You’re beginning to get tired as well too, not in a bored way but in a pleasure-filled relaxed way. You almost want Steve to stay here for hours, you’re sure he could. But you wanna cum so bad. You couldn’t remember the last time someone really took their time with you, at least before Steve. You never knew how long Steve would treat you like this for, so you took as much as you got, as much as he was willing to give you. Which was, apparently, quite a bit.

“Ah. Steve..,” You mumbled, words a little slurred due to your foggy brain.

He knew what that meant.

“You wanna cum, pretty girl?” Steve asked, his rumbly voice shooting pleasure up your down your spine and into the hollow of your pelvis.

You let out a “mm hmm” while nodding your head and shifting your hips to press more into his mouth.

Steve hummed back and shifted. He wrapped his arms around the front of your thighs and shifted closer to you. He kept up his ministrations with a heavy tongue, still licking at your folds and pulling at the flesh. Steve picks up pace, using his tongue more than his lips. He licks your clit more than before, switching between flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue and dragging his entire tongue over the nub.

“Oh my- shit! Steve!” You moan as the pleasure that simmers under your skin grows quickly. You grab and pull at his hair more. Your thighs spread so you can give Steve more room to work with, and your hips grind against his face in a way to match his pace.

Steve doesn’t hold you down as you squirm. Instead, he does his best to match your movements. He still sets the pace though. Steve still has the control.

Suddenly, Steve flattens his tongue against your clit and shakes his head. The motion has pleasure spiking between your legs, and you cry out as your thighs shake. He continues this for a few short moments before going back to lick at your clit with varying speeds.

A coil begins to tighten in your lower abdomen, curling in on itself with every lick and suck Steve forces on you. It gets to the point where it’s almost too much but yet, not enough. Your chest heaves and you’re aware of your clit standing stiff against the assaulting tongue.

“Mm- Steve!” You start up again, thighs tightening around his head. “Steve! Steve -shit- I’m gonna- fuck-!”

With a final few licks to your clit, your body seized up and your orgasm washed over you with a cry torn from your throat. You don’t mean to trap Steve between your thighs or pull at his hair with your hands, but you do anyway. Your body is not your own at the moment. It is driven by the pulsing heat between your thighs and the fog in your brain.

Your voice is a mess of moans, whines, curses, and Steve’s name. You are unabashed with the way you beg and thank your lover. There is no doubt that your next door neighbors down here in Steve’s basement can hear you, and can hear the way Steve is enjoying you in ways they’ll never experience.

Steve licks and sucks at your clit until your voice gets whiny and you try to push him away with your hands at the top of his head. He doesn’t relent though, adamant to take what your body can give him. Steve only pulls away when his lungs start to beg for air.

Steve comes up for air, finally. He works to take in air through his open mouth. His lips, chin, and the front of his nose are a mess of arousal that’s tinted with blood. If this weren’t real life, you would’ve thought Steve was a vampire with the way he looks. His hair was tousled from your hands and his pupils are still blown wide.

You’re still a mess on the bed, laid flat down. Your eyes are closed and your own mouth is open to take in gasping breaths. There’s a light sheen of sweat making your skin shiny, making the light above catch on your skin. There’s a flush to your chest and cheeks, showing the exertion from your activities. You work to recover your scattered brain and bare lungs until you feel movements between your thighs and a hand grabs your chin, squeezing your cheeks. You open your eyes to see Steve leaning down over you so he’s face-to-face with you.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” He tilts his head, a little bit of amusement dancing in those stormy blue eyes of his. “Look at what you get when you let me in.”

You nod, “Sorry, Steve.”

“It’s alright,” He uses his freehand to wipe away at his face, clearing the mess. The amusement dies away to something serious. “Don’t do that again. You know better than to fight me off. You’re mine, you understand that?”

You swallow and nod, nervous now, “Y-yes. I understand. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s face relaxes and he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips, “Good girl.” He releases your chin from his hold and pats your cheek gently.

He gets up and stretches, raising his arms over his head and twisting his back to pop his spine. Steve pulls his shirt back over his head and smoothes down the fabric, as well as dusts off his pants.

“Get dressed,” Steve orders gently as he helps you sit up and unlinks the chain from the cuff around your wrist. “I’ll bring you upstairs so you can take a bath, yeah? How does that sound?”

You nod, looking up to catch Steve’s eyes as he watches you from where he stands. You move to pull your ruined panties on, cringing at the feel of the cold mess against your still-heated cunt. Your sweatpants and shirt follows soon after. You stand up beside Steve, bracing a hand on a shaky knee as you so.

Steve leads you out of the room, sliding the door to the side and not bothering to close it behind you both. He gives you an almost endearing look before he grabs your hand to willingly take you down the hall and up the stairs.

Your legs are still a little shaky as you follow Steve, but you keep up with his long strides easily. You take two steps for his every one.

From one of the rooms beside yours, maybe even from the girl next to your room, you hear someone mutter “slut” just loud enough for you to hear. But Steve hears it too, obviously with the way you almost run into his back from how fast he stopped. You look up at him confused and see the cold, hard squint of his eyes and the furrow of his brows. You can see the snarl that threatens to curl his lips as he looks at the door to the girl’s room.

But when Steve catches you staring, he shakes his head with a blink of his eyes. Gone is the cold, sharp look and something warm and comforting replaces it. He smiles down at you, stepping forward to continue leading you up stairs.

You follow Steve obediently through the house and to his rather nice bathroom that’s attached to his bedroom. You watch as he gets the water temperature to something nice and warm before plugging the drain.

“Alright,” Steve stands to his full height once he has everything settled. “You get in and get settled. I’ll bring you some clothes and products later. I’ve got to change your sheets and deal with… something first. But call if you need me, okay?”

“Okay,” You nod, leaning in when Steve presses an oh so tender kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

And with that, Steve leaves you alone in the bathroom and you begin to undress. As you settle into the warm water that slowly fills the tub, you don’t even notice that the bathroom door can only be locked from the outside. But, it’s not like you want to leave anyway.

[defectivevillain]

to survive him

pairing: Steve Kemp/Reader

the reader is male and uses he/him pronouns. otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used.

summary: “I’m sorry,” he says, quickly removing his grip. He’s scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just— uh. I’ve already made a fool of myself, so might as well continue, right?” You just stare at him helplessly. “Can I have your number?” Do you hit on all the guys you find in the vegetable aisle? You think to yourself sarcastically. “Only the pretty ones.” His response makes you realize you uttered your thoughts aloud. Your heart stutters. Did he just say you’re pretty? “So?” he asks after a few seconds pass and you’re struggling to find a response.

word count: 5.5k | ao3 version

warnings: spoilers to Fresh, canon-typical gore/cannibalism/violence/misogyny; suicidal ideation, starvation, drugging, anesthesia, mutilation

author's notes: I was convinced this movie was going to be a good old-fashioned heterosexual waste of time. But it wasn’t. Instead it was about girl bosses, and we love to see it.

With that said, I am gay trash and I write gay trash. So what is this going to be? You guessed it: gay trash. There may be a lack of girl bosses here, and for that, I am sorry. 😔 I really enjoyed the themes this movie explored, but I’m a transmasc simp who always focuses on the wrong things. sigh. That said, I’ve tried my best to ensure the misogyny and predatory attitude of the entire thing is very much acknowledged.

The reader is called "pretty," but I'm of the not so humble opinion that guys can be pretty.

This is a one-shot with an ambiguous ending. Read the warnings above if you haven't already. Hope you enjoy! <3

It starts with a conventionally attractive white man, as many things do.

You’re making a late night grocery run when someone taps you on the shoulder. You want to ignore them, but you feel inexplicably generous. (Your first mistake.) You push your headphones off and turn to find yourself staring at a brown-haired man with an easy smile. He has light eyes, a nice jawbone and sharp features; he’s wearing a brown jacket over a muted reddish-brown shirt. For a moment, you’re just staring in confused disbelief.

The guy starts talking about his sister and niece, before holding out the package of cotton candy grapes he’s holding. You just shake your head. You didn’t come to the grocery store to talk with strangers, you came to grab food and leave. So that’s what you try to do. You pay him a quick glance and a brief goodbye before leaving. And for a few minutes, you’re distracted with purchasing your groceries and you’re convinced you’ve escaped the man’s attention. But just as you walk away from the cashier, a hand latches on your wrist—light but tangible nonetheless. You instinctually freeze at the contact, only to find the guy from earlier smiling sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly removing his grip. He’s scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just— uh. I’ve already made a fool of myself, so might as well continue, right?” You just stare at him helplessly. “Can I have your number?” 

Do you hit on all the guys you find in the vegetable aisle? You think to yourself sarcastically. 

“Only the pretty ones.” His response makes you realize you uttered your thoughts aloud. Your heart stutters. Did he just say you’re pretty? “So?” he asks after a few seconds pass and you’re struggling to find a response. 

You want to say no. You’re not the type to go through with anything like this. But damn it, the guy’s handsome and he seems nice enough. 

…You give him your number. (Your second mistake.) 

“I’m Steve,” he explains, shooting you a text as if ensuring you didn’t give him a fake number. You introduce yourself in return, albeit hesitantly. The two of you stand there a bit awkwardly before he’s eventually walking away with a “See you around,” and a pointed look at your phone in your hand. 

Your quick departure doesn’t calm your rattled nerves. Why in the hell did you do that?! You’re not usually the type to be so social. And yes, you were sort of forced into it. But you could’ve pretended not to notice the guy, you could’ve waved him off or lied and said you had a partner. Instead, you just let it happen. Let him have your number, let him think he’s won your attention. 

The frightening part: he sort of has won your attention. Even as days pass, you try to push Steve out of your thoughts, but you can’t. 

When he texts you the next week, asking if you’re free, you somewhat subvert the implied ask and offer to get coffee with him the next morning. You suggest a very public place—one you’ve been to several times. Steve immediately responds with a thumbs-up emoji reaction and you sigh. What are you getting yourself into? 

…Safe to say, you get overconfident. It’s a mere lapse in judgment: you walk away to go to the bathroom and return to your table. You told yourself you would notice if the stopper on your drink had moved, if he had touched it. But you don’t notice.

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you take a few more sips of your drink. It tastes off. Ten minutes pass; your movements feel a bit sluggish, it’s hard to concentrate, and you feel dizzy. You see Steve shrugging his jacket on before holding yours out to you—you have no idea how he grabbed it, because you swear you put it on the back of your chair—and smiling. You think he’s smiling, but it’s hard to see for sure. His voice is garbled in your ears, echoing pathetically through your quickly dizzying thoughts. 

(You’ve lost count of how many mistakes you’ve made. But this is your last one—thinking you somehow had immunity, thinking he wouldn’t harm you. Anyone can get drugged, after all.)

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You push yourself to your feet slowly, and Steve suddenly has a grip on your arm. He steers you out of the side door and you’re stumbling after him, a weak noise trapped in your throat as you’re ruthlessly tugged around by vertigo. Steve’s saying something, his blurred face pinched in concern. And you’re soon falling to the ground, a puppet in his arms.

There are people passing by—you made sure to choose a public area for this reunion with him. But you have a horrifying feeling it won’t matter. You’re both guys—Steve could probably just claim you to be a friend not feeling well, and no one would bat an eye. No one would think twice of it: of the way he’s tugging you into the back seat of his car with a frightening composure, as if he’s done this several times before.  

You’re unconscious now, though—entirely unaware of the danger you’ve unwittingly gotten yourself into. 

You’re greeted with a headache when you wake. You feel at your temple and groan, your muscles aching as you attempt to push yourself up. It takes a few seconds for your vision to clear, but once it does, what you see is enough to send pure fear coursing through you.

You’re in an unfamiliar room, with elaborate stone walls and luxurious wooden accents. Steve is sitting across from you, staring. You’re on some sort of mattress, with a blanket haphazardly thrown over you. You manage to push yourself into a sitting position, only for a dull ache to run through your wrists. You try to move a bit, but the unmistakable sound of chains rattling grounds you to this nightmarish new reality. You tug at them experimentally, then desperately. They don’t budge. 

“You’ll just hurt yourself.” 

You drag your eyes over to Steve, who’s still staring at you. He’s been entirely silent since the moment you woke. You stare back for a moment, taking in his general appearance. There’s an unsettling gleam in his eyes as he clasps his hands and just studies you. …And he’s wearing a fucking turtleneck. Like a cartoon villain. 

You feel yourself laughing hysterically before you can stop yourself. You’re not actually amused, of course—you’re scared for your fucking life. But somehow, the damn turtleneck is what makes everything set in for you. You’re chained to a wall in this guy’s house. And he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. 

“What’s so funny?” Steve just hums, not appearing bothered by your amusement. Instead, he only looks curious. You just tug your knees to your chest, your choked laughs turning to frantic breaths. He gets to his feet and you scramble backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you as you try to maintain some distance. He’s quick to put his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Jumpy,” Steve remarks, sounding far too amused at the thought. 

“Get away from me,” you hiss as he approaches. He just takes a step closer. 

It’s a blur. Steve tries to get near; you try to lunge at him. You fight for a bit, but it’s immensely clear whatever he drugged you with is still in your system, because he overpowers you easily. You feel tears slipping down your cheeks as you try to breathe around his hand over your mouth. 

“You were tough at first,” Steve says, as you continue attempting to regain your composure. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. You’re writhing in his grip but it’s doing nothing. “Wary. I had to get a bit, uh, creative.” 

He shares a smile and finally, finally frees you from his arms. Bile climbs up your throat as you process what he just said, and you return to the corner of the room, if only to maintain an illusion of safety. 

Steve eventually leaves you with a tray of food and a knowing look. You watch him exit before staring down at the food uneasily. One fact is immediately made clear to you, as you stare down at a far nicer meal than you expected: he’s rich. He has the money to dump on meals for his prisoners (because you suspect he has multiple). 

Your second realization is more unpleasant: there’s no way out of this room. You try tugging at the vent just barely within your reach; you test the limits of your chains and feel along the walls. But there’s nothing. You’re well and truly trapped here. 

You still need to escape, though. And it doesn’t take you long to come up with a flimsy plan. It’s risky as hell, but it may be the only way to get a better understanding of your surroundings. And, if you’re lucky, you can get the jump on Steve and escape. (You’re trying not to get your hopes up, though.)

“I need to shower,” you announce the next time Steve returns. You manage to sound confident and determined despite the sheer speed of your heart pounding in your chest. 

He blinks once, twice. You stare back, knowing he’ll crack if you look at him long enough. Sure enough, Steve sighs and crosses the room—getting the chains on your ankles off, but leaving the handcuffs. 

You can do something with this, you think, as he manhandles you down the hall. You suspect he must be having some twisted sort of fun with this, because he keeps grinning to himself. 

When you turn a corner, you whip around and kick at him. But you must’ve been too obvious about your intentions, because Steve just grimaces and then reaches out to grab you by the collar, slamming you into the wall.  You’re still fighting, practically writhing, but his grip strengthens and you’re eventually forced into compliance. The sound of your labored breaths is all that graces the air at first, before he grabs your jaw and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You’re lucky I was expecting that,” Steve murmurs. “But you don’t want to do that again.”

You’re breathing hard. His gaze practically cuts through you as it explores you. His fingers are digging into your cheeks, sending pain up and down your jaw. For a moment, time almost seems to stop. 

“You have a nice face,” Steve states clinically. There’s only curiosity in his voice. He tilts you slightly to the left, to the right, and looks at you again. You choke on your next breath before he finally releases you, clapping an arm on your shoulder and pulling you after him. You stumble with the sudden change in momentum and he just drags you along, until you’re finally situated in an unnecessarily big bathroom with a shower encased in stone. 

For several seconds, you just stand there helplessly. Steve crosses his arms over his chest before letting out an impatient huff. “Let me guess, you can’t shower by yourself,” he says sardonically. You wordlessly extend your cuffed wrists. “Ah, right,” he seems to remember. You hold them as far away as possible; he notices and raises a brow, before getting the key from his pocket. 

“Behave yourself,” Steve warns you as he unlocks the cuffs. You’re frozen as he removes the chain and unhooks the leather restraints on your wrists, taking them into his hands. “I’ll be waiting,” he gestures with the cuffs in his hands, before heading to the outer hall. 

Of course, your first move is checking the bathroom for an escape. But that would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? There aren’t any windows—only a miniscule vent near the ceiling, both out of reach and too small for you to fit through. There is truly no way out of this space except through the door, which Steve is likely guarding from the outside. 

You sigh, taking several wary glances at the door before slowly removing your shirt. Steve doesn’t come back in. You eventually convince yourself to strip and get in the shower. The hot water should be calming, but you can’t quite forget the situation you’re in. And you have no idea how patient (or impatient) Steve is going to be, so you try to make it quick. 

Once you’re out of the shower, you haphazardly dry yourself off and put on your undergarments and sweatpants—the very same outfit you had picked for the coffee shop. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t care enough to put together a nice outfit—the sweatpants are comfortable.

Unfortunately, Steve’s patience must be fickle, because you can’t even get your shirt on before he’s sauntering into the room. He settles against the wall and just stares at you expectantly. 

“Um,” you just say awkwardly.

Steve doesn’t make a move to leave. You’re just standing there for a bit, uncomfortable. “You think I haven’t seen a guy shirtless before?” Steve huffs. The heated way he’s looking at you, though, tells a different story. You throw your shirt on quickly and he lets out an amused breath, before looking pointedly down at your wrists. 

You don’t really have a choice, save for showing him your wrists and allowing him to tighten the cuffs. For a second, he tightens them far too hard and you flinch. Then he loosens them back to normal, before putting a hand on your shoulder and tugging you out of the bathroom. You’re soon returned to your cell and left to hopeless solitude once more.  

Your isolation is only broken when Steve visits for meals, placing trays near you before walking away without a word. That split second of time—when he’s finished with placing the tray and crouched down before you—always seems to pass with uncomfortable lethargy. He just stares and stares and stares. You always stare back, too afraid to take your eyes off of him and allow him to catch you off guard. 

But you soon learn you aren’t the only prisoner here. A woman’s voice reaches your ears through the wall of your cell and you immediately press your ear to the wall, convinced you’re hearing things. But she introduces herself as Penny, and she insists she’s very much real. 

You fall silent as she begins to explain what she’s learned so far: that Steve drugs and abducts women to sell their meat. It’s stomach-turning, disgusting, misogynistic, perverted… The list goes on. (And above it all, one question prevails: why are you here, then?)

“He says there’s a demand for women,” Penny says bitterly. There’s a note of venom in her voice. “So you’re safe.”

That’s… You don’t even know what to say. “...I’m sorry.” And you’re not sure what you’re apologizing for: the almost inherent cruelty present in so many of these men? The fetishization? Her captivity, like yours?

Penny doesn’t respond right away; you don’t expect her to. You’re quickly coming to terms with your strange diplomatic immunity, and you’re finding it rather uncomfortable. 

“I don’t think he’s ever gone for men,” Penny says to you after several minutes. “I guess you can take that as a compliment. You’re sending him into a sexuality crisis.” 

You sputter a laugh. It’s the first time you’ve felt genuine amusement here. “You’re ridiculous,” you say. You both laugh tiredly. 

As time passes, the two of you talk about what you’ll do if you manage to escape; what you would do to Steve if given the chance; what you would tell your loved ones if you could give them one last message before your death. 

And for a while, you’re deluded into thinking Steve is growing bored with you—a thought that is equally comforting and frightening. (Because if his interest keeps you alive… his boredom will be your death.)

Unfortunately, it appears things aren’t that easy. Despite your disagreeableness, Steve continues to visit whenever he can. For a while, it’s just to deliver meals. It’s a strange pattern: one Steve ends up disrupting one day, when he enters wearing bloodied medical scrubs. Your heart jumps at the sight, and you retreat back to the very corner of the room, knees tucked close to your chest again. You don’t care how pitiful it probably makes you look. Hell, that could be Penny’s blood. And it could soon be yours too. 

“I’m exhausted,” he announces, sagging to the floor against the opposite wall. Steve takes a harsh breath and removes his surgical cap and face mask. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him just drop them on the floor, out of your reach. A persistent reminder of his cruelty. Not like you’d be able to do anything with those things, but… Still. 

Steve’s silent, staring at you intently enough to melt your skin. Is he waiting for a response? Are you supposed to care about his exhaustion? How does he expect you to look at him—stained with the blood of his other victims—and feel sympathy?!

He talks for a while longer, before you give up on pretending to listen and duck your head in your knees. Maybe Steve will lose interest. Maybe he’ll walk away and look for a more active listener. 

“I like you,” Steve says instead. Your eyes snap up to study him. His hands are shoved into his pockets in a deceptively casual manner. But his eyes shift about the room restlessly. “Just thought you should know,” he continues. 

You’re sure complete disbelief is written all over your face. Steve smirks and walks out of the room, leaving you staring after him in complete bewilderment and growing dread. 

Of course, he takes those words back soon after. “I told you I liked you,” Steve says upon entering your room the next day. You blink and look up at the sudden confirmation of his presence. Apparently he’s not in the mood for small talk or pleasantries. “It was a mistake,” he sighs, before looking at you expectantly. 

“…Okay.” You’re not sure what else to say to that. 

“Brought something for ya,” Steve then says, throwing you a few books. They fall to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. “I’ve never done this with a guy before, so this is the best reading material I’ve got.”

“You don’t usually give women books?” you scoff judgmentally, pulling it near your mattress. You’ll read it when he leaves. “Do you give them gossip magazines or something?”

His silence is enough of an answer. You shake your head in disbelief and retreat to your corner once more. He gives you a tray of food before leaving. You grit your teeth and look down at it, slowly coming to a realization. 

“Stress is bad for the meat,” Steve had said after you first woke up here. 

You stare down at the tray and mash up the food a little bit, making it look like you ate some. In reality, you’re not eating any of it. You’re not going to eat for a while. It’s a foolish, suicidal idea, but… it’s the only agency you have. You have few chances at resistance here. And this, as stupid as it may be, makes you feel in control. Abstaining from the food he gives you is a vindictive gesture. If he wants to sell your meat, he can: malnourished, dehydrated, and overall unappetizing.

For a few days, Steve doesn’t notice. He must attribute your fatigue to your captivity, which works out rather well for you. He has no idea that you’re slowly but surely starving yourself, depriving him of the meat he wants to sink his teeth into. 

The human body can survive a few weeks without food, supposedly. You don’t think it’s even been a week, and you’re already barely conscious. You sleep, and sleep, and sleep some more. It’s hard to keep yourself awake, and even harder to concentrate. Your thoughts are muddled and murky. Penny has since stopped trying to talk to you, sensing you’re pretty out of it. You hadn’t told her your plan, and you wonder what she’s thinking now. Is she happy you’re suffering? You doubt she’s so vindictive, but… it wouldn’t be wrong of her to feel a twisted sense of justice that you’re finally getting the same treatment as Melissa and her. 

Steve visits one morning and sets the tray of food down. But, instead of walking away like he usually does, he just… stands there. You stare back wearily, your vision slightly spinning at the edges. It’s hard to decipher the expression on his face, but it looks almost like an annoyed frown. “You’re not hungry?”

“No,” you manage to say raspily. Your throat is dry too, after cutting back on your water supply. You didn’t quite have the courage to stop drinking water altogether, but you’ve only taken a few sips each day. It’s still enough for your body to be rather dehydrated, which will only worsen the quality of the meat he wants. 

He must sense something’s off, because he’s immediately approaching you and crouching down before you. For a moment, Steve is entirely silent. Then, he slaps your cheek a bit mockingly. “You look so pathetic,” he hums, looking at you thoughtfully. His voice rings in your ears. His face is blurry. “It’s almost cute.”

You don’t really know what’s going on. “You’re pretty quiet,” Steve says. He slaps your cheek harder, and despite the knowledge that it must hurt, you can barely feel it. Your vision is going dark and your body feels like a tangle of unmoving limbs. You try to grab at your captor and summon some courage to say something, anything, but your hand just shakily glides over his forearm as you fall into unconsciousness.

You wake to find something digging into your arm. Your head is pounding and there’s an insistent stinging sensation somewhere below your waist. Your hands twitch and a hiss escapes your lips as the pain persists. It’s too much. You try clumsily pulling at the thing on your arm, but you’re quickly stopped. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve chastises you, pushing your hand away so lightly you could almost mistake the gesture for gentleness. “That’s your IV, you’re not taking that off.” You pry your eyes open, surprised at how difficult the effort is. 

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he just said. The IV explains the slight twinge of pain at your forearm, but not the almost overwhelming feeling ripping at your left leg. You almost don’t want to look, but your eyes drag themselves down, down, down past an oversized shirt that’s definitely not yours. You frown. 

“Relax, I just got you out of that gown,” Steve hums. Something unpleasant crawls up your throat at the thought of him undressing you. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. I’m a doctor, remember?” he says with a lopsided smile. Your stomach stews, especially when you process how he’s kneeling before you, a hand on your right thigh to steady himself as he holds a scalpel dripping with blood. Your ears ring. Your breaths are choked, hurried, panicked. Despite your best judgment, you look down further—finding yourself wearing a pair of shorts. They’re rucked up slightly, just enough for you to see the mangled flesh of your thigh. 

“Oh, and I took a little from your thigh,” Steve says casually. “I just thought, why not? Might as well treat myself.”

“No, no, no,” you choke out desperately. Your limbs feel far too heavy to move; your back is soaked in sweat and there are flames running up and down your skin. A pained noise escapes your lips as darkness engulfs you once more. “Steve, no.” 

“Couldn’t let the others have all the fun,” he remarks as he methodically takes your flesh from you. There’s blood everywhere. 

You’re almost grateful when you pass out. 

…Your recovery is slow. Steve clearly doesn’t care enough to give you painkillers, which means you’re constantly fighting off the blinding pain running up and down your leg. You can’t walk for a day or two; and when you finally get to your feet, you almost fall over immediately after. 

It’s getting harder to fight off the inevitability of it all. You’re going to be trapped here for a long time. You’ve tried virtually everything. Nothing works. And Steve has already taken from you—there’s nothing stopping him from doing it again, and again, and again, until you’re a gaunt husk of who you used to be. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed either. Penny’s gone now. You cried a lot. Steve makes fun of you for it—because, really, his toxic masculinity is through the fucking roof. You can’t help but mourn and grieve. Penny was probably the only reason why you didn’t go completely insane from the beginning. She was patient with you through your countless (and hopeless) escape attempts. She tried to distract you when you were feeling particularly helpless, and you did the same for her. Now it’s just you. And her words ring in your ears: 

You’re a man, so you’re safe. 

You almost wish Steve would just get it over with. You know you have some sort of privilege here, but it doesn’t discount the absurdity and danger of the situation. You’d almost rather die now, than live to see yourself crumble underneath his grip. 

It’s very depressing. You’ve given up on attempting to hide your emotions from Steve. In return, he’s given up on pretense too. He’s more honest with you, and you’re not even sure if that’s a good thing or not.

You’re slipping. Steve knows this. He must know this, and, for some reason, he must want it to stop—because the next visit he makes, he’s dressed nicer than normal. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re on the precipice of… something. You’re not sure what it is. 

“What’re you all dressed up for?” you eventually say dryly, in lieu of a greeting. 

“You like it?” Steve asks, almost sounding genuine.

Well, you certainly didn’t say you liked it. But honesty is dangerous right now. “Yes,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Fucking liar,” Steve just huffs, a smile rising on his lips. It’s too fond for your liking. “Come on.” 

You’ve given up on fighting his constant attempts at physical contact. Maybe one day, you’ll get enough of a drop on him to get away. For now, you allow him these gestures—if only because you’re too weak to resist. 

You’re still unable to completely walk on your own, which forces you to lean on him as he leads you through the house. 

“Is this a date?” you frown as he guides you to the dining room.

“You’re not exactly dressed for it,” Steve remarks. The dining room is situated on a noticeable incline and you very nearly trip on the step leading up to it.  

“And whose fault is that?” you remember to respond with a huff. Steve courteously helps you to your chair, before sitting at the seat perpendicular to yours. He doesn’t fail to cuff you to the chair, which, at this point, seems unnecessary. You keep those thoughts to yourself. 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs. You’re silent, watching him as he steps away to the kitchen before returning with two dishes. Your vision almost seems to blur at the edges as you stare down at the food. 

“Is this human?” you question. You don’t need to ask and he doesn’t need to answer. 

“You’re shaking,” Steve remarks instead. 

“I don’t trust you,” you respond. 

“Fair enough,” he repeats with a playful smile. 

Your gaze wanders as you attempt to calm your racing heart. At some point, you look at his hand and come to a realization. Your own hands twitch with restlessness and fear. 

“You’re missing dinner with your wife for this?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.  

“How do you know I have a wife?” Steve questions. You just nod poitnedly at the ring sitting on his ring finger; he hums in response, before abandoning the subject and instead explaining the dish he’s made for you. 

It’s hard for you to track this conversation. Steve’s constantly flipping it around, turning it on its head to confuse and unsettle you. “My wife knows,” Steve remarks at some point, “about all of this.” You have no idea what you’re supposed to do with that information. “It’s hard to find people who understand.” Why in the fuck is he staring at you as he says that?

“Don’t look at me, I don’t understand this shit at all,” you eventually scoff, when the tension begins to grow unbearable. 

“So antagonistic,” he smiles slightly. “You’d think you’d have some common sense rattling around in there, but I guess not.”

“Why haven’t you eaten me yet?” you ask. 

“I have,” Steve responds easily, taking another bite of his food. You stare down at it, fighting off your hunger for regular food. That is not regular food. You won’t sink to his level. And, as for his statement… Steve did take meat from your thigh. He didn’t take much from you, but you’d rather die than utter those words aloud. 

Steve seems to sense your thoughts. “The women taste better.”

“No, they don’t,” you fire back before you can stop yourself. His eyes snap to yours. The words are falling from your lips in a hateful spew. “They taste the fucking same. You just get off on it because you’re attracted to them. I guarantee you could chop up some poor bastard and send him off, your buyers would have no clue.”

“Don’t give me ideas.”

You freeze. 

He’s smirking at you pointedly.  

…It appears you’ve forgotten yourself. 

“Don’t fall silent now,” Steve teases, tapping your forearm. It takes every ounce of effort you have not to flinch at the contact. He’s so unpredictable. Sometimes, it’s as if he’s welcoming your insolence. Other times, even the slightest move or wrong look will make him furious. You don’t understand him. 

“No one’s ever cooked for you before,” Steve says. “Not like this, anyway.”

Your eyebrows furrow. How does he know that? You were purposefully ambiguous and vague when you spoke to him on your ‘date’. There’s no logical explanation for how he has that information. Steve wordlessly reaches out and grasps your thigh, a breath away from the incision scar. You can’t quite hide your discomfort this time, which only seems to delight him more. 

“We’re both new to this,” he says inexplicably. You can’t quite hide your curiosity at the vague statement. He pounces on it. “I’ve never done this before,” Steve murmurs, “being with a man.” 

You want to scream. Throw something, take your fork and stab him. But you’re cuffed to your chair. 

“Is your name really Steve?” you murmur instead. You don’t have the courage to push him away, not when he has your life in his hands. Somehow that’s the first thought you can speak on, after finding your composure again. “You don’t look like a Steve.”

“Good,” he says, almost seeming happy with the remark. “And no, it isn’t.” He seems to contemplate his next statement for a long, long time. “I’m Brendan,” he finally says, nearly startling you out of your thoughts. 

Yeah, that fits a bit too well, you think.

After dinner—his dinner, really, because you’re chained to the chair and you refuse to eat human meat— he shows you to his wall of victims. Sure enough, they’re all women. The thought of these people being reduced to a single photograph, a cosmetic or item of some sorts, and a pair of undergarments… is enough to send a renewed nausea up your throat. You blink and suddenly you’re bent over the garbage can dry heaving. 

“Weak stomach.” Brendan almost seems to laugh. His hand supports your back. You want to shove him aside, but all of your energy is already focused on keeping yourself standing. “You’d probably pass out if I showed you the cold storage.” 

At some point, you’re on the floor. You’re not sure when it happens. All you know is the disgusting maelstrom of grief, regret, anger, and envy that threatens to drown you. You want to cry, scream, throw up again. 

You hear Brendan shift. 

“Brendan,” you warn him. He shows no sign of hearing you, instead crouching next to you. 

You flatten your back against the cabinets, too tired to maintain pretense. You have no power in this situation, with your hands cuffed as you sit before a hungry cannibal. Brendan crouches down and you think you can see bloodied flesh reflected in his eyes. You want nothing more than to scramble away, but you’re hungry, tired, weak. 

Brendan’s holding you in his arms, and you’re letting him. He’s pressing kisses to your temple, cradling your jaw, holding your shaking hands and running his fingers over them reverently. He’s whispering reassurances against your skin, that you’re different, special. 

…You’re so fucked.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Been an awful good girl

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your roommate brings you along to a holiday gathering without much cheer.

Character: Steve Kemp

Day Sixteen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - I'm your present.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“I don’t know about this. I don’t really know them as well as you,” you say as Lindy's thumb flicks on the steering wheel to hit the ‘next track’ button. 

“How so? We hang out all the time,” she snorts. 

“No, you hang out with them all the time. I’m just... a hanger on.” 

“Bull shit. Everyone loves you. Besides, what were young going to do? Sit home alone and mope.” 

“Yes,” you huff. “I really appreciate you inviting me but it seems very... intimate.” 

“Boo,” she rolls her eyes as she follows the subtle curve of the country road. “Really, it’s no big deal. Steve’s place is huge. Really, I told you to come in the summer.” 

“Some of us work.” 

“I work. Sometimes,” she giggles. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean...” 

“Oh, I know exactly how spoiled I am. Don't worry. It’ll be fine. Everyone’s going to be drinking anyway.” She sighs, “honestly, would you really rather be going home to face your stuffy family? Definitely not me.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” you drone. “I don’t know. I was kind of looking forward to a Christmas alone.” 

“Pfft,” she blows a raspberry. “Well it’s too bad, because I know who drew you in the gift swap and it wouldn’t be very courteous to ghost.” 

“I’m here,” you whine. 

“Because you’re a good girl,” she sticks her tongue out as she peeks over at you. “You ever think that people like having you around because of that? You’re the perfect contrast to me. The Mufasa to my Scar, the Woody to my Buzz, the uh... Gandalf to my Saruman.” 

“Wow, a Tolkien reference, I’m impressed,” you snicker. 

“You remember that guy, Jensen. Aside from crying when he cums, he loves that shit,” she scoffs. “It was endearing but the tears weren’t.” 

“Ew, wow, uh, thanks for that information.” 

“Anytime, sweetie,” she trills. 

She drives on, into the dark sentinels and grim back roads. As the evening falls, the silver moon shines through the branches and needles. Despite the beaming saucer, the sky hangs like a dark sheet of satin. 

There are lights ahead. Windows aglow with life within. Other vehicles litter the large lot. You must be the last ones to get there. You’re not surprised. Lindy is always late. 

She parks without much concern for the other vehicles. You’re patient as she takes her time getting out. You don’t want to take the lead on this one. You follow her to the trunk to grab your bag and she takes hers, nearly shutting the lid on you. 

You head towards the cabin. You nearly trip up the steps as the only lights are those inside and the sole bulb beside the door. As you clatter up, you hear a strange creak. You wince and look over at the shadow that stands from the porch swing, the back knocking against the house siding. 

“Hey, was starting to think you weren’t coming,” Steve says as he steps into the yellow sheen of the porch light. The creases and angles of his face swallow the shadows perfectly.  

“Huh, oh, hey,” Lindy has one hand on the door. “Whatcha doin’ out here? Waiting for us?” 

“Sure,” he chuckles, “was getting a bit warm inside. Plus, Ransom’s been into the tequila.” 

“That sounds fun,” she giggles. 

“Maybe for you,” Steve sniffs.  

“Oh Steve, once I get some in me, I can be a whole lotta fun two,” she purrs. “And once I’m not standing out in the cold.” 

“Door’s open,” he says. “Hey, good to see you.” 

You meet his eyes, you think. His face is mostly hidden. You try to smile but it feels more like a grimace. “You too.” 

“You bring something for the gift swap?” 

“Course we did!” Lindy tosses over her should as she pushes down the lever of the door handle. 

“Uh, yeah,” you pat the strap of your bag. 

“Here, let me get those,” he offers. He grabs your napsack by the handle on top then slips between you and Lindy to take her D&G bag. “I’ll put them in your rooms. If you make it to yours, Lin.” 

“And we’ll see if you make it back to yours,” she snipes back. “Come on, sweetie,” she grabs your hand, “let’s go bug the others.” 

“Um, thanks, Steve,” you say. "Um, one second.” You reach for the zipper on your bag and undo it. You take out the paper gift bag then tug the tab back. “Thanks.” 

He smiles as he hooks your bag over his shoulder. He wears a deep blue sweater, his usual look, and his hair is floppy around his chiseled square face. You wonder about Lindy’s joke. Steve’s married to Ann, isn’t he? 

You Lindy her drag you away after you hang your coat. The rabble of voices beckons you into the front room where a fire crackles in the large fireplace. A table is draped in plaid and bowls and platters line the top. Ann is there, scooping sauce with a spoon onto a small saucer with crackers and cheese. 

“There they are,” she beams. “Girls. We’re finally balanced.” 

You tilt your head and look around. There’s three men in the room; Ransom, Charles, and Andrew. Four if you count Steve, and there’s one other woman besides Ann; Juliette. That would make four men and four women. Not that it really matters. 

“Don’t forget to put your gifts beneath the tree,” she points to the artificial fir. 

You put your bag underneath with the wrapped gifts and Lindy follows. She searches her pockets and pulls out a plastic gift card. Whoever she got will be drinking a lot of specialty coffees. She tosses it on the biggest box there. 

“Come, have some cider!” Juliet insists, “we added whiskey.” 

“Don’t get too wild, girls,” Andrew intones. 

It’s a bit awkward to refer to thirtysomethings as girls but you don’t pay it much mind. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a great mood. You wonder if it has anything to do with his wife Lori, being absent. 

Juliet hands you a crystal mug of cider. You sip it tentatively but Lindy eagerly guzzles it down. She leaves you without a word as she heads over to Ransom. He sits in a chair with a bottle of Tito’s in one hand and a cup of soda in the other. 

You peer around awkwardly and sway. Great. It’s not that you don’t get along with these people, you just find it hard to relate. Now that you’re here, that big question rings in your head. Why did you come? You’ve known these people as long as Lindy and yet, they are her friends, not yours. Still, you can’t name a single thing they’ve done that could justify you hating any of them. They more so inspire indifference, if not dejection. 

“You still working at the college?” Andrew startles you as he approaches with his short tumbler of dark liquor. You didn’t think he drank. He was always telling Lori to slow down. 

“Um, yeah,” you turn to him and run a finger nervously behind your ear. “How’s the, uh, attorney-ing going?” 

He shrugs, “thinking of starting a private practice. Maybe. Might have to relocate...” 

“Oh, that sounds like a big change.” 

“Lots of those,” he grumbles. You have a feeling you shouldn’t ask about his wife. 

“Yeah, I’ve been looking for a new gig. College is nice but a bit stagnant.” 

“Oh yeah? I could use an exec assistant if I do go to a firm,” he says. 

“Wow, really, uh, well, I guess that would be a big if,” you push your shoulders up. 

“Andy,” Steve appears, “don’t tell me you’re bringing her down with your sad sack schtick. We’ve all had enough.” 

“No, I was actually offering her a job. Possibly. What do you want? To annoy us with your slimy schtick? Go bug your wife.” 

“Woah, buddy, nothing meant by it. Just a joke. Thought maybe I could cheer you up. But I see why you went with this one,” Steve gestures to you. “She’s a sweetheart.” 

“Uh, oh, thanks,” you mutter into your cup. “Um, you know, we drove quite a ways. Could I use the bathroom?” 

“Sure thing,” Steve puts his hand on your shoulder and points back to the doorway, “down that hallway and to the right. Let me know if you get lost.” 

“Thanks, er, I’ll be back,” you sidle away and set your cup down on the table. You flee without looking back. You still can’t think of a good reason why you came. Not aside from the favour to Lindy. Sometimes, you think even she finds them too much. 

🎀

“I think all the gifts are under the tree so everyone can grab theirs whenever. You have to guess who got you by breakfast tomorrow!” Ann declares. 

The din doesn’t break. There are nods in her direction but most are unconcerned. Of course. You feel a bit dumb for spending so much time trying to find something for Ransom. He isn’t easy to buy for with his expensive tastes. He’s not even in the room... nor is Lindy. 

You don’t really care about yours. You really just want to go to bed. You wait and watch. No one else goes toward the tree. Sigh. You don’t want to seem like a vulture waiting to take your share of the carrion. 

After a while, Ann wanders over. She bends and moves around some of the presents. She picks up the gift card with sharpie on it. She rolls her eyes. She has that drunken wobble in her head as she stands and curls her lip at the gift. You feel bad for her. Lindy really didn’t try very hard. You even think she regifted that. 

Charles and Juliet go together. Both have more substantive prizes. They chatter as they return to the sofa. You get up and glance around. Everyone seems distracted; by each other or by their phones. You tiptoe over.  

You read each tag. You count the presents and tally up only seven total, including those already taken. You crane back and forth as you try to see if there’s a stray one around the back. You nod and back away, trying not to show your disappointment. 

You’re not surprised. You don’t know that whoever got you forgot so much as they didn’t both. You told Lindy, you’re the odd one out. You’re only invited because you’re roommates. To be honest, it’s mostly because she’s clingy. 

You yawn and check the time. You don’t care about a gift. You peek around. Steve is standing at the window, staring out at the moon. The eerie light gives his features an odd glow. 

You approach him, “uh, hey, can you show me what room is mine? I’m pretty beat.” 

He sets his glass on the window ledge and turns to you with a grin, “gladly.” 

He leads you away from the window, the darkness solid and thick. You walk out of the front room and he takes you around the staircase. 

“I hope you don’t mind. I gave you the room down here. The rest are upstairs...” he explains. 

“It’s fine. I appreciate you thinking of me.” 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that? You don’t think people do?” 

“No, I didn’t mean—I just... It was nice of you to invite me.” 

“Of course. You’re a nice girl. Lindy isn’t,” he chuckles, “you even her out.” 

“She’s not that bad,” you argue unconvincingly. 

“Sure. She can be... sweet when she wants something.” 

“Hm,” you hum. 

He stops outside a door and taps on it, “this is you.” He turns to face you, “I know what you’re thinking. Why are we friends if we don’t like each other? Sometimes, you just can’t get rid of people.” 

You nod awkwardly. You don’t want to be involved. You never really thought they hated each other, you just thought that was normal for them. That they were all a little bit abrasive. 

“So, the gift swap. You got Ransom, I see.” 

“How...” 

“I shouldn’t have been a snoop but I did see the tag when you took the bag out,” he smirks. “Oops.” 

“Uh, yeah, well, I don’t even think he’ll like it. It’s just socks. The only thing I could afford from the designer.” 

“Like he’d know the difference between a knock-off and the real thing. He’s new money,” he turns the knob and pushes the door open. “Bag’s on the bed for you.” 

“Thanks. Again,” you step past him as he flips on the light. “This is a really nice cabin. Must be nice in the summer.” 

“Maybe you’ll see next year,” he says. “So what about you? What do you think of your gift?” 

“Ummm,” you draw out as you shuffle into the room, “I...” 

The door clicks and you turn to face him. He’s just inside, standing in front of it, in almost a sinister way. Filling the frame so you couldn’t get past him if you tried. 

“Well,” he puts his hands on his hips. 

“What?” You blink. 

“Your present. I'm your present,” he tilts his head, “Merry Christmas.” 

“But... Ann?” You utter. 

“Ann what? You think she cares? She might if she wasn’t on her phone sexting the anesthesiologist from my office. Wonder if he puts her under before they... you know?” 

You shake your head, “oh, I’m sorry--” 

“Look, I don’t wanna worry about all that. I’m your secret santa,” he opens his arms as he comes closer, “guess I shoulda put a bow on me.” 

“I... Steve, I’m not... I’m sorry but I can’t--” 

He stops before you and presses his finger to your lips, hushing you. 

“It’s not polite to turn away a gift someone put a lot of thought into. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He drawls. You squeak as he drags his fingertips down and turns his hand to cradle your chin. “Plus, if Ann was so concerned and she came in to find you seducing her husband, well, I’m not sure she’d let you stay.” 

“Steve,” your eyes tinge hotly. “Why?” 

“Why what?” He bites his lip and hooks his arm around you, bringing you flush against him. “I’m giving you exactly what you need, honey.” 

[jiyascepter]

───── May

So I decided that I should be making my monthly reading lists to promote some fellow writers even more, even if one person reads a fic from here it would change something, wouldn't it?

(idk if tumblr would let me tag so many writers at once, but the links to fics work so pls check out their profiles too!)

And also if I ever want to reread them it would be easier to find 👀 I'll try my best to make these lists every month ✨️

So here are some lovely fanfics I've read this month, please make sure to give them some love by commenting or reblogging, it means a lot to us writers 🤍

Fluff: 🥰 | Angst: 💔 | Hurt/Comfort: ❤️‍🩹 | Smut: 🔥 | Dark: 🖤 | Humor: 😆

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89

Loki's Island Fever [Avengers!Loki x reader] | ongoing 🔥😆

@vbecker10

Talk to Me [Loki x f!reader] Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 is wip | ❤️‍🩹🥰

@lokischambermaid

From The Horny Misadventures of Nomad Steve:

Disciplinary Action [Nomad!Steve Rogers x Agent!reader] 🔥

Positive Reinforcement [Nomad!Steve Rogers x Agent!reader] 🔥😆

@lokisgoodgirl

Distractions [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Like a Queen [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Also check out her upcoming series : The Rite

@buckys-wintersoldier

His name, his property [Dark!Steve Kemp x f!reader] 🖤🔥

Glazed (donut) Holes [Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x girlfriend!reader] 🔥

Teasing [Dom Bf!Bucky x Sub gf!reader] 🔥

Little Perv co-written with @lanabuckybarnes [Stepbrother!Bucky Barnes x Stepsister!Reader x BestFriend!Steve Rogers] 🔥

Bucky Offers You a Better Job [CEO!Bucky x Assistant f!reader] 🔥

Domination [SoftDom!Bucky x Sub!reader] 🔥

How Love Works [Ransom Drysdale x reader] 🥰

@foxherder

Loki imagine (based off The Avengers) [Loki x reader] 🥰

@vbecker10

Help you bear it [Loki x f!reader] ❤️‍🩹

You Can't Hurt Me [Loki x f!reader] ❤️‍🩹

What Prank? [Bucky x f!reader] 🥰😆

Running Into Trouble [Loki x f!reader] 🥰

Whatever It Takes [Loki x f!reader] 🥰 slight🔥

The Dress [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Don't Forget [Loki x Disabled Female reader] 🥰❤️‍🩹

@loki-cees-all

Keeping Score [TVA!Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@sarahscribbles

Vanilla and Honeycomb [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@bookishtheaterlover7

How Long Could We Be a Sad Song? [Chris Evans x Secret Girlfriend!Reader] 💔

@muddyorbsblr

Curiosities [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@mischiefmaker615

Feral [Frost Giant!Loki x f!reader] 🖤🔥

@buckets-and-trees

Give Up [Alpha!Bucky x Fem Omega!reader] 🔥

@simplyholl

The Interview [Rockstar!Bucky x f!reader] 🔥

Truly Desperate [Loki x f!reader] 🔥😆

@lulubelle814

The Accident and the Misunderstanding [Tom Hiddleston x Reader] 💔🥰

@sergeantbarnessdoll

You Stayed [Steve Kemp x reader] 🥰

@buckysdarling

If You Wanna Come, Give My Brother Some [Steve x reader x Bucky] 🔥

@mrs-illyrian-baby

No Sacrifice Without Blood [Vampire!Loki x reader] 🖤🔥

@divine-knight-hand

A Show Of Temptation [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

So yeah these were all the amazing stories I read this month, make sure to give these a read ! Also if you have any fic recs please let me know ;)

[thezombieprostitute]

Last Night

A/N: Written for @yenzys-lucky-charm and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork's Horny Hoes Hootenanny for the Trick or Treat option. I received a Trick!

Summary: The one night stand that wouldn't end.

Warnings: Dark fic, Implied kidnapping, Implied smut, Supernatural evil, Steve Kemp. Please let me know if I missed any!

You wake up in a room you don't recognize. Startled you look around and realize you're alone in an unknown bed, naked.

How much did I drink last night, you think to yourself. You look around but don't even see any of your clothes. You try to get out of the bed but are interrupted by the door opening, causing you to cover yourself up with the blanket.

A handsome man with beautiful blue eyes comes in carrying a tray filled with what you can only assume is breakfast. "I hope I didn't scare you," he smiles. "I normally don't leave a lady alone in bed but I was getting hungry and figured you could use some breakfast as well. Especially after all the fun we had last night." He sets the tray down in front of you, giving you a good look at his muscular abs.

"I...is this your place?" you ask. You feel so confused, having no memory of the previous night.

"You don't remember?" He seems a little hurt and a lot worried. "I know you had a lot to drink last night, we both did. We were celebrating getting over our exes."

Your brain starts connecting dots. There's a vague memory of what he's talking about, "yeah, it's coming back. I'm sorry."

He smiles and your heart skips a beat, "it's okay. Like I said, we did do a lot of drinking. You just eat up breakfast and then, what say I eat you up?" He winks and you giggle while grabbing a fork.

You wake up in a room you don't recognize. Startled you look around and realize you're alone in an unknown bed, naked. How much did I drink last night, you think to yourself. You look around but don't even see any of your clothes. You try to get out of the bed but are interrupted by the door opening, causing you to cover yourself up with the blanket.

A handsome man with haunting blue eyes comes in carrying a tray filled with what you can only assume is breakfast. "Sorry about the noise," he smiles. "I know we haven't finished fixing up the kitchen yet but I really wanted to cook you a good breakfast. Especially after all the fun we had last night." He sets the tray down in front of you, giving you a good look at his muscular abs.

"I...is this your place?" you ask. You feel so confused, having no memory of the previous night.

"You don't remember?" He seems a little hurt and a lot worried. "I know you had a lot to drink last night, we both did. We were celebrating moving in together."

Your brain starts connecting dots. There's a vague memory of what he's talking about, and an even vaguer idea that something is wrong. "Yeah, it's coming back. I'm sorry."

He smiles and your heart skips a beat, "it's okay. Like I said, we did do a lot of drinking. You just eat up breakfast and then, what say I eat you up?" He winks and you giggle while grabbing a fork.

You groggily wake up, struggling to remove the blankets, only to find yourself in a room you don't recognize. Startled you look around and realize you're alone in an unknown bed, naked. How much did I drink last night, you think to yourself. You look around but don't even see any of your clothes. You try to get out of the bed but feel too hungover. Your attempts are interrupted by the door opening, causing you to cover yourself up with the blanket.

A man with cold, cruel blue eyes comes in carrying a tray filled with what you can only assume is breakfast. "Hey beautiful," he smiles. "I figured you could use a good meal. Especially after all the fun we had last night." He sets the tray down in front of you, giving you a good look at his muscular abs.

"I...is this your place?" you ask. You feel so confused, having no memory of the previous night.

"You don't remember?" He seems a little hurt and a lot worried. "I know you had a lot to drink last night, we both did. But you were adamant about coming home with me."

Your brain starts connecting dots. There's a vague memory of what he's talking about, and a vaguer idea that something is wrong. "Yeah, it's coming back. I'm sorry."

He smiles and your heart skips a beat, "it's okay. Like I said, we did do a lot of drinking. You just eat up breakfast and then, what say I eat you up?" He winks and you giggle. You try to grab the fork but you can't.

"You must still be pretty hungover," he tells you. "Let me help you out, Beautiful."

You struggle to wake up. A part of your brain is screaming at you to wake up, that you're in danger, but you can't figure it out. Is it leftovers from a dream? Are you still dreaming? Is it sleep paralysis?

A man comes into your line of sight. His brown hair and blue eyes feel familiar, but you can't place them. His smile makes you feel a chill in your soul.

"This was certainly fun while it lasted," he tells you. He chuckles at your confused look. "You lasted several weeks, much longer than most. Congratulations on that! But, as always, you humans end up succumbing. Your life was damn delicious, by the way. I'm going to be able to survive for months on this."

You struggle to understand what he's talking about. You want to get away, to cry, to do anything, but your body is too weak.

He gives you a cruel grin, "what say I eat you up, one last time?"

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly