#Yandere!Steve rogers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

highonmarvel · 8 months

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Dilated [1] | Scattered

Steve Rogers bumps into a woman whose pupils are larger than normal.

} previous part: [Prologue]

content warnings here!

You startle at the contact and quickly slap his hands off, immediately groaning at the cramp suffocating your left upper arm as you pull it back. You can’t really see the tall man in front of you through your watery eyes, and you can’t wipe your eyes due to your sweaty palms.

You’re struggling to really comprehend what he’s saying; you know he asked if you’re okay, and then?

“Can I take you home?” his voice comes through hazily.

“Wh- What?” you ask, the question immediately flying out of your head as your eyes rapidly scan the streets, like looking for signs of danger, when you’re sure there aren’t any.

“Can I take you home,” he repeats, slowly and louder. You turn your head to wipe your face on your shoulder as he continues, “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

That’s Captain America, no?

With your eyes less blurry now, you’re just able to make out the blue eyes and golden hair under the warm streetlights.

“Okay!” is all you can muster, and you’re not sure to what he took it: okay to take you home or okay that’s his name? Maybe you should give your name in response but you don’t, you can’t. When he asks for your address, you snap something at him that you think is where you live, though you can’t tell through your irritation; he’s really agitating you for some reason; he’s done nothing, but he’s got you annoyed, or maybe you’re just annoyed in general after Sharon cut you off. You wonder why, because it’s not like she doesn’t have a supply, and it’s not like she cares whether you live or die.

You stumble a few times and sway slightly as you stay just a little ahead of him in beat to get to your flat but refuse his offer of a strong, steady arm around your waist to keep your stable. You don’t want to touch him at all, feeling hot and hotter even just walking beside him, everything radiating heat, but especially his body.

You get to the entrance of your building and push your shoulder against the door to stumble into the hall. You don’t notice Steve come in behind you under he places a large hand on the small of your back and you jump in fright with a yelp, whipping around to face him.

“Sorry!” he apologises, “I’m sorry, but I really need to make sure you get in safe. Is that okay?”

You wish he would stop talking, and you guess he knows you’re not really processing what he’s saying, but you don’t really have the drive to snap at him, just letting him trail you as you walk up four flights of stairs to get to your door. He stays alert behind you, ready for you to fall backwards and into his arms, but you make it, surprising even yourself.

You fumble with your keys, ignoring his offer to help as you drop the key four times before you get it in the lock and then another three trying to turn it. You don’t kick off your shoes, don’t take off your jacket or even pull your sling bag off, you just crash face first into the couch and fall right asleep.

✯

Steve is surprised at your exhaustion. His first guess was heroin withdrawal but that’s more likely to cause insomnia, and then he worries you may have died in front of him, but your breathing slowly returning to regular and your snoring assure him you’re alive. Well, barely.

He has to stay overnight, how can he just leave you like this? Tomorrow will probably be worse, you can’t be alone by yourself right now. He’s not sure if he should pull a blanket over you, take your shoes off and rest your head more comfortably on a pillow. He decides to leave you, worried if he takes one thing off he may not be able to stop.

But he should probably get something to help you, right? And he needs a glass of water himself. Your kitchen opens right into the living room so it’s easy to find. He pours himself an ice cold glass, sipping it as he walks back to you and settles in an armchair across from the sofa you’re passed out on. Your place isn’t really decorated; he can see lighter squares against your walls, and wonders if you sold those pieces of if you’ve recently moved and a previous tenant took their frames.

Maybe you’re an artist; he’s heard artists are tortured, a lot of them do drugs, or maybe a musician; he should probably check your bedroom to be sure, just to learn about you so tomorrow he can get you the appropriate help.

There are only two doors, one leading to the bathroom. He’s immediately drawn to your medicine cabinet to check if you’ve got anything here, because if you do, he needs to get rid of it. He finds more bottles of sleeping pills than needed and a prescription for depression or anxiety meds, making a mental note to flush the sedatives down the toilet in a few hours; not now, he doesn’t want to wake you.

Adjacent to the bathroom is what he assumes if your bedroom door, which he is right about, and as messy as expected (he wondered how your living room, kitchen and bathroom appeared tidy enough—if you were in this state often, you’d definitely be unable to maintain even basic cleaning). Maybe you didn’t use those rooms. Not even the bathroom?

Clothes are scattered on the floor and pillows and blankets have been thrown off the bed, sheets too, leaving a bare mattress with a small bloodstain on it. A desk sits by the window, looking out to just another red brick apartment complex, with a broken laptop and scraps of paper cluttering the surface and the ground, a small bin overflowing with paper and broken pens.

He finds a manuscript laying on the floor—so you’re a writer—and finally he can put a name to your face. Should he clean your room, or is that really weird? In less than an hour he’s developing this caring instinct, and he tells himself it’s just his job, Captain America wanting to help everyone and all, he’s a superhero after and before all.

Steve gets another cold glass of water and settles in his seat across from you. For the first time tonight, you look at peace; your eye lids aren’t moving as rapidly, your breathing is steady and deep, your limbs aren’t trembling, muscles aren’t cramped, and your wild sweating has slowed, though he can still even see the layer sticking to your skin.

✯

When you peel your eyes open, you’re grateful for the overcast weather, though you’re still a little blinded by the light. You feel like pure shit: weak and sore with a pounding headache and overwhelming nausea. You turn your head to vomit off the couch, surprised to land it in a bucket waiting for you and not your stained carpet. Blinking is hardly helping as you try to get your lashes to unstick each time they flutter. Your heartbeat is slow, slow enough that were you feeling more aware, it would concern you, and you wonder if you’re dying.

You’re hardly regaining full consciousness when your gaze finally lands on a man sitting across from you. You scream as you sit up and jump further back into the couch, but you can’t hold yourself up for long before you tumble back to the cushions, your shoulder hitting the edge making you wince in pain and heavy head lolling over the armrest, straining your neck.

“Relax, relax, you’re gonna hurt yourself, you need to calm down. I’m Steve,” he introduces himself in a friendly manner but he doesn’t smile, instead scanning your face with furrowed brows like he’s looking for any injuries.

He looks like the man from last night, yeah, and it takes you a few moments to grasp that he’s Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. Your breathing rate increases as your mind races to find a reason as to why Captain America is in your apartment. You vaguely remember being turned away again by Sharon last night, and you remember someone mentioning she was dealing some more serious shit than what you needed, had he found out about that? Thought you were an accomplice? Or maybe you were in danger; maybe Sharon had found out you knew and was going to kill you, and he was here for protection. Did you do something really illegal last night to the point one of the world’s greatest superheroes had to watch over you?

“I know who you are what are you doing here?” you plead for an answer, desperation coating your tone as your heart beats wildly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he coos, taking a step towards you and keeping his hands visible, like approaching a stray dog, “I was really, really concerned about you last night, I couldn’t in good faith leave you, I had to make sure you got home safe.”

But… it’s the morning. Did he stay all night? You kind of hope he did instead of leaving and somehow breaking into your place when you were passed out, if anything.

You’re shaking, and you can’t tell if it’s from withdrawal or if you’re scared. But why would you be scared? You have the world’s greatest protector concerned with your health and safety. Something about him is unsettling, and at first you think it’s just your agitation finding reasons for anxiety when there are none. He was just being nice, being so much more helpful than you could have ever asked for, but you can’t help but wonder, wouldn’t he have better things to do? More serious threats to take care of? Why would an Avenger prowl the streets and take such an interest in a random woman rather than an inter-dimensional threat?

Something just isn’t sitting right, and you can’t tell if it’s your scattered imagination or a real possibility of danger.

⍟

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#dilated #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers x y/n #dark steve rogers x y/n #yandere!steve rogers #yandere steve rogers

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giorno-plays-piano · 1 year

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Hold On To Me

Pairing: mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: home intrusion, hostage situation, noncon, Stockholm Syndrome, smut.

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.

P.S. I rewatched The Hostage again (when I did it for the first time, this was the result), and here we are.

____________

Staring at a little black Ikea table as if your life depends on it, you sit, your body aching from being in one position for too long, but you can't move. He's watching you. It seems he doesn't even blink, his eyes on you since the moment he pushed you into your room and locked the door behind him. He's so close you can hear him breathing.

You know this look. You're not that young and innocent to be unable to recognize interest in man's eyes. It both scares and - unfortunately - makes you a little flushed, and you berate yourself for the latter because this isn't the right way to react to a man who broke into your house and took your family hostage. God knows what's happening to your stepfather right now: the man wouldn't be able to protect himself even if he was inside a tank, and his enemy attacked him with a plastic knife. You're as much worried about your little brother. He was always a bit of a brat, but the second you realized he was in danger, you felt so overprotective over him you covered his body with yours like you were a shield.

Your brother is in his room now, being watched by the youngest guy in the gang, the one who looked the most reluctant when their leader decided to take hostages. Your brother must be safe. The other kid won't hurt him, you don't think.

You, on the other hand, are stuck with Steve. From the moment you saw him move and heard him talk, you realized he was running the show behind the curtains. He's dangerous. The third guy, the one who claims to be the leader, is impulsive, angry, shouting and kicking things, sweating like a sinner in church because of the police cars surrounding the house, but Steve is calm and collected. He smiles with his perfectly white teeth and talks to the boys as if he's relaxing in a bar after work, not in the middle of armed robbery.

He's really, really pretty. Steve has perfectly blond hair and proper facial features like a slightly chiseled jaw, full lips, and that sort of blue eyes that make girls swoon over him the moment they see him. He's perfectly tall, well-built, with wide shoulders and strong, muscular arms and legs: he look like he belongs in those Armani commercials or, perhaps, on the catwalk, but not with the kind of guys your mother warned you about. How did he end up on the darkside? What made him so good at using a gun? He didn't fire it even once yet, but you see it from the way he handles it he knows too well what to do with it. It makes you anxious, thinking that he might point his gun at you and then pull the trigger.

Except he won't. Or, it's rather unlikely. Not when he looks at you like this, always moving so close to you he steals a touch whenever he can as if he is unable to help himself. Besides, Steve is kind to you: he gave you water when you asked and loosened the rope tied too tightly around your wrists; he brought you a pillow so you could rest against it, not the cold wall, and shushed you gently when you cried, saying he wouldn't let anything happen to you or your little brother. You don't know how much of his promises are true, but you think him unlikely to harm a child. He doesn't seem the type.

Your poor little boy. He's only a kid, all alone in his room, forced to face one of his kidnappers as he waits for the police to finally make a move. Since you don't hear him crying - your room is just below his - you think he does his absolute best to hold on, to keep calm and not irritate his unwilling jailer even though he's frightened to death. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in this mess. If only they agreed to let him go... Not that anyone would listen to your pleas, though. He's a valuable hostage, just like you. As long as the gang has you, police won't make a move, you're pretty sure.

But maybe you can still help your brother. Ease his worry a little, give him a bit of hope. That is, if you play your cards right and press the right buttons of your handsome, terrifying warden.

"May I bring some food to my brother, please?" You whisper, gathering all your courage to turn your head to face Steve, look him straight in the eyes. "He must be so hungry."

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.

He's not a guy winning girls over with his looks. Steve is a deviant, an outcast. His face can't buy him what he wants, and that's why he's here, in your house, holding your family hostage.

Maybe, just maybe, you can use it to your advantage.

"Can you do me a favor, please?" Your whisper is barely audible. "Can you take me to my brother so I could feed him? If you want, you can tie my legs so I won't run."

Not that you would, anyway. You know perfectly well you can't outrun this guy even if your life depends on it, literally. Overpowering him is even more unlikely unless his muscles are just cotton stuffed in his clothes, which is a ridiculous suggestion.

His eyes light up at the word favor. "Happy to oblige," he muses, and your heart starts beating wildly before he continues, "but how will you return my favor?"

You are puzzled. You haven't thought this far. Dumbly, you thought he'd just say yes. It's a small favor, really. He knew you wouldn't give him any trouble, so it was just quickly checking up on your scared to death brother. Why would he want something from you in return when you couldn't as much as move without his permission?

But of course, he would.

"Anything," you blurt out hurriedly as if the words burn your tongue before you realize what you are actually saying.

Steve laughs with delight, his features softening.

"You should work on your negotiation skills," he declares with a wide smile as you tremble, understanding what you just offered. "You shouldn't give up your everything because people will take anything there is to take. Choose just one thing at a time, and choose carefully."

Suddenly, he gets close, and you immediately avert your eyes to the floor, unable to keep his gaze, trembling.

He nuzzles your cheek affectionately as his knife works through the rope around your wrists, and you pray he isn't going to stab you because you really know nothing and all judgements you made of him might be false. "But I'll be nice and choose just one thing for you. You'll feed your brother, and then I'll feed you, alright?"

You blink, your eyes on your warden again. Feed you? He wants to give you food?

Okay, it sounds strange. But who cares when you can finally see your brother? You'd say yes even if he proposed something improper because what else can you do? Steve has a gun, and even without it, you feel like he's a very dangerous person to oppose to.

So you say yes, and he takes your hand in his - so you won't be nervous, he says, but you know he wants to remind you who's in control - and then you two march to the kitchen in awkward silence where you grab whatever you can find. A cheeseburger from that little family café your family goes to every weekend, a pack of yogurt, a toast, a bottle of water... Steve even helps you to carry it all.

When he opens the door to your brother's room, you forget how to breathe for a second. The little boy is safe, sitting on his bed with his hands already untied, his eyes red from all the crying, and you rush to him, forgetting there's another man in the room. Or, well, a boy, because he's surely younger than you, perhaps still at school. His eyes are suspiciously red, too, as if he's scared and doesn't want anything but leave this place for good. For a moment you think it'd be better if he was guarding you, too, because then, perhaps, he'd agree to let you go if you helped him run away from the house without police catching him, and then things would be so much easier.

But the boy leaves in a hurry when Steve enters, and you remember who's a true ringleader. You can never escape on your own.

Your brother cries when you hug him, his little hands wrapped around you as he sniffle, and you rock back and forth to calm him down, whispering words of comfort, like everything's going to be alright even if you don't know where your stepdad is and what Steve is going to do to you if police doesn't do what he demands them to. You tell your brother he needs to eat because it's dinner time, and he nods, suddenly a well-behaved boy he'd never been, and takes a cheeseburger. You don't leave until he eats everything even if it's probably too much for a kid his size, but he says nothing, and you want him to be completely full: who knows when he'll eat again.

Then you give him a hug. It'll be fine, you say, and he does his best not to cry. Just do what they say, be a good boy, and everything's gonna be alright.

Steve smiles at the child when your brother doesn't want to let you go. "Listen to your sister," he says in a tone as if he's playing the role of a big brother, "and things will be fine. She'll be safe, too."

You don't think you'll be safe, not with someone like Steve, but perhaps your brother will be because his jailer is a kind kid, and he isn't cut out for violence. It's enough for you, even if your hair stands on end when Steve gently nudges you into your room, locking the door behind himself again. Once you two are completely alone, you start to panic, your breathing growing uneven, your hands shaking. What will he do to you? Will he rape you? Torture you? Kill you? If you could think rationally, you'd realize at least the last two are unlikely to happen, but you're a hostage, and he has the power to do any of these things. Even if you're unbound, you're helpless against him, a man so big and strong he'd overpower you in a matter of seconds.

So you don't try anything. You go sit down on the floor near your bed with a pillow resting between your back and the wall and then stretch out your arms for Steve to bind them again. He doesn't.

"You've been a good girl so far," he muses, sitting down in front of you, and then you see a couple of fruits in his hands that you somehow missed completely. "Now, let me feed you."

You still when he takes out his knife and peels a big red apple in a single strip before cutting it into even pieces. When he brings one close to you, you try to take it from his hands, but he tuts, tilting his head. "Open your mouth," he says simply instead, and your face grows hot.

Of course, there was a catch. There always is with guys like him.

But you say nothing and do as he says, and then he carefully pushes a piece of apple into your mouth. It's delicious, juicy, just your favorite sort of apples. You try to concentrate on the taste, not Steve's delighted expression when he watches you eat. Soon, he pushes one more piece past your lips, and then one more, and one more until there's nothing left of the apple. He's nowhere near finished, of course, because then starts to peel an orange. It's messier than the apple, but Steve doesn't seem to mind when he brings a slice close to your lips and lets you swallow it. His smile grows wider the closer you are to finishing the orange.

When you're finally done, your mouth full of acidic flavor, he suddenly clicks his tongue.

"My hand is all dirty from orange's juice," he says, eyeing you when you finally register what it is he asks you to do.

You bite down on your lips, eyes round as he brings his hand to your mouth.

"Lick it," he whispers so close to your face you can feel his breath on your skin.

You want to say no, to tell him he's out of his mind, but you don't. He's been kind to you so far, and it'd be stupid to provoke him. Even if he won't stop at this... maybe he'll stay kind, anyway. It's better than having him put a gun against your forehead for refusing to do what he says.

You open your mouth, taking his fingers in one at a time. They taste almost the same as the orange, sticky with juice, and you do your best to lick them clean, making shameless little noises when you suck at them. Steve doesn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he looks at you with a delightful expression on his face, like he's happy you're so good at whatever he asks you to do. He slips finger after finger inside your warm, wet mouth, playing with your tongue, smearing juice and saliva against it as he laughs with joy.

When you're done, he kisses you, sharing the sour taste of the fruit.

You knew it would come to this. It's no surprise, really, with the way he looks at you. But you still tremble and wish for all of it to end when Steve licks your tongue, sucking it into his mouth.

"Open your legs, baby," he commands in a sweet voice, and you shudder but do as he says anyway, and his lips part in a smile. "Yeah, like that."

His hand is already between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the clothes, and you freeze, blood pounding in your ears. It feels surreal, being in this situation, in the hands of someone who might make you cum or shoot you in the head instead. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, but your body is petrified, limbs turning to stone, your tongue heavy when you whisper. "Please, don't hurt me."

It's a plea, a cry, and tears slip down your cheeks as you look him in the face, his eyes dark and perceptive. Then, all of a sudden, he softens. "You're safe with me," he promises, his breath warming your face as his hand lands on your head, stroking you gently like a little girl, and you feel like you're going to cry from the intimacy of his touch. "You'll always be safe with me."

His other hand is already in your jeans, caressing you through the silk fabric of your panties, but as he pats your head, taking your hair away from your face, you lean into him, seeking any comfort he's willing to give. Steve purrs, landing a kiss to your brow, his fingers slowly spreading your gentle folds as you shudder. "Good girl."

You let out a shaky sigh as he circles your clit: surprisingly, he doesn't start pumping his fingers in and out like most guys do, too eager to have their dick inside. No, Steve just draws more sighs from you, makes you meek and pliant and wet as his fingers work your clit just the right way, and you squirm into the fabric of his t-shirt as he caresses the back of your head, pressing you into his chest.

It almost doesn't feel like he's forcing himself on you. It feels like... like he comforts you. As if he wants you to feel good, to be fine with him doing it to you.

"I'm... I'm-"

Your knees tremble as you sense the orgasm coming too soon, snuggling against your captor as his hand closes against your shoulders, his fingers working your clit even faster, circling, pinching, pressing on it like a button, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The coil tightens in your belly and, then, then... you become undone. Disintegrate in Steve's hands when he praises you tenderly for being good to him, kisses your cheeks wet from tears, and craddle you to his chest like a baby. He's painfully hard, you can feel it through his jeans when you lean onto him, but Steve doesn't seem in a hurry for his own release. He waits till your orgasm makes you all too soft and takes your face in his hand, giving you a deep kiss, his tongue coiling around yours.

You barely recognize when he lifts you up, feeling too comfortable and warm, pressed to him like that, but then you feel cool bedsheets behind your back, and then you're scared again.

Steve coes tenderly, giving you a peck on the lips, "Do you want to ride me, baby? Or do you want me to take you on your back, like a princess?"

The way he phrases it makes warmth creep into your cheeks, and you avert your eyes, mumbling, "On my back, please."

It doesn't even register that he forces himself on you right this minute. It feels like... something else. Something not so scary, not so violent. Something... tender.

"Like a princess, then," your captor smiles, hands trailing your jeans as he carefully slides them down, taking them away, living you half naked. "Alright. You'll be my princess."

Your face feels disturbingly hot when he says it, his hands on you as he tugs the fabric of your blouse up, lowering his head to drop a few kisses to your tummy, murmuring something you don't quite catch, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, you are completely naked in front of him, and you'd feel ashamed if he wouldn't caress your head again like you're a little girl, eager for his praise.

He gives you a kiss before inching away, taking his t-shirt off ever so slowly to give you a good look at his undoubtedly perfect body. But you don't look at his muscled arms or wide chest. Your eyes are trailing his scars, so many scars of different shapes and sizes that cover his skin. Many of them are long, undoubtedly deep, as if someone... as if someone stabbed Steve with a knife.

Your eyes water. Even if it's you who's a victim, a hostage, you feel a sharp sense of guilt as if it were you who hurt him.

He blinkes, a little surprised, perhaps, but you can see there's someone else in his eyes. Something like shame. Like self-loathing.

"A princess' knight is supposed to have a few scars here and there, right?" He gives a quiet laugh, getting down again to cage you with his body, but he freezes when your warm hand lands on a long, ugly line on his side, between the ribs. It is long healed, but the touch makes him stop, nonetheless.

You look him into the eyes, and your face is tight with worry. "I'm sorry," you whisper like it's your fault, your palm warming his skin, and Steve becomes alive again under your touch, his lips partying in a smile once more.

His hand caresses your nipple, pinching it between two fingers as he draws a breath from you, watching you intently, his hard, leaking cock heavy on your tummy. Then, suddenly remembering something, he bends over to grab something from his jeans, and you realize he's putting on a condom. You sigh in relief, and he catches that.

"Anything for a princess," he grins, sliding his hand over your thigh, and you still beneath him when he positions himself at your entrance.

You're scared. That moment you're back into your room, with a man who can shoot you hovering above you like a monster eager to eat you alive, and you forget how to breathe. You're not a princess in the care of your faithful knight. You're a hostage, and your captor can do anything he wants with you.

Steve feels the change in you in a moment, and he stops, his hand back to the top of your head. Even though you can feel how painfully hard he is, he waits, caressing you like a little girl, smiling to you, tenderly brushing your hair away from your face, repeating you'll always be safe with him. And then you're a princess again, and he's your knight.

He pushes into you, and you bit down on your lip, trying to relax: he's not monstrous, but Steve is still a bit too big for you to take him comfortably. Thankfully, he doesn't split you on his cock, giving you time to adjust, and with every moment the subtle pain grows weaker before it finally lets go, and you nudge your warden gently, your hands gripping his shoulder and your face in the crook of his neck. It doesn't hurt anymore. It almost feels good to be so full of him, to know what it's like to have him inside of you.

Steve says it's hard not to cum when you clamp down on him so much, gripping him like a vice. Pleasure softens his features, and you brush a strand of blond hair away from his face before you even register what you do. He does, though, and he likes it. He finally starts to move.

Sweat drips down your bodies when Steve keeps slamming inside of you, making all sorts of soft noises while you pant and choke beneath him, snuggling against his form, your legs wrapped around him tightly. His cock is pressing against every right spot of yours, making you forget who he is and what he does to you. You're his princess, his good girl, he repeats over and over again, and you feel safe in his embrace, inhaling his scent, taking his cock till its head presses into your cervix, leaving a pleasant ache and making you whine. It feels good to be in his care when he rolls to the side and presses your head to his chest, his other hand lifting your leg to reach a different angle, and you kiss his jaw, his neck, making it even harder to hold on, he says.

When he cums, you're already far too gone. The pleasure is too intense, and for a couple of minutes you say nothing to each other, panting, his hands still on the back of your head as he caresses you absent-mindedly, your bed a mess of damp and crinkled sheets. You wish to stop thinking. To forget everything. Just being here, being safe, is enough for now.

Until he speaks again.

"You'll come with me," he whispers feverishly, his hot palm on your cheek, almost burning you. "I'll take you away, and we'll go on a big adventure together, princess. With dragons, swords, and gold."

You're quiet against him, staring into his chest as he caresses your head.

You're not a princess. You're a prey.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @helenaeisenhower @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @rosalynshields @lookiamtrying @soleil-dor @cosicas-cuquis @buckybarnesplumwhore @lux-ravenwolf @stupendouslovegardener @what-is-your-wish @eralen @magnificantmermaid @typewritersworld @stcrrjoon @sweetxime @imrandomstuffsblog @gachawipes133

#dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #yandere #captain america #mcu fanfiction

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aphroditelovesu · 3 months

Note

can you please write 🦄 for either yan!steve or yan!bucky?

❝🦄❞ - ‘’I... I really can't let you go.’’

❝tw: kidnapping and slight angst.

When Steve found you at home, well, at least he considers it your home, you were lying on the couch, reading a book of your favorite genre. The mere sight of your presence made him smile and he unconsciously moved closer to you.

"Hey, honey." He murmured as he sat down next to you on the couch, close to your feet stretched out and bare beneath the soft fabric. Steve frowned slightly when you didn't respond to him. "Honey? I'm home." He tried again, his voice firmer.

But he got no response.

Steve sighed irritably when he realized what you were doing. The punishment of silence.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, feeling his frustration growing. He knew the punishment of silence was your way of showing that something was wrong, but he couldn't understand what he could have done to deserve it.

Everything he did was for you. Always for you and would always be for you.

He leaned forward, placing his hand gently on your knee. "Honey, please tell me what's going on." He pleaded, concern evident in his voice. "I can't fix what's wrong if you don't tell me."

The book in your hands continued to be your only answer. Steve sighed again, deeper this time, and decided to try a different approach. He got up and went to the kitchen, preparing your favorite drink. Maybe, with a little patience and a gesture of affection, he could break the silence and find out what was going on.

Steve quickly returned to the living room, bringing with him a silver tray with your favorite drink and snacks. He placed it in front of him, on the coffee table. However, you refused to talk to him, or even look at him.

Had he done something wrong?

Steve tried to search his mind for anything he could have done that triggered such a reaction from him, this coldness that hurt him more than anything. He sighed when he finally realized that it may have been the sudden change in your life that caused you to become so cold towards him.

You still hadn't completely gotten used to his presence, to living with him. It had been something sudden when he brought you here, but Steve couldn't leave you alone, not when the world was becoming more and more dangerous. He couldn't even imagine what he would do if something happened to you.

Steve sat next to him again, this time closer. He gently touched your shoulder, trying to get your attention. "I know things changed too quickly." He began, his voice low and full of regret, "I brought you here thinking it would be for the best, but perhaps I didn't consider how much it would affect you."

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, "I just wanted to protect you, make sure you were safe. But I understand if you're feeling like you've lost your freedom, your old life. I'm sorry if I was selfish in not realizing it sooner."

Silence still hung between you, but Steve continued, determined to get through to you. "I want you to feel at home here, not like a prisoner. And if there's anything I can do to make this easier for you, please tell me. I'm here to listen."

You finally looked at him and placed the book down in your lap. Your gaze met his and you spoke, your voice loud and clear. "I want to go home. To my real home."

His gaze suddenly hardened and the grip on your shoulders tightened, becoming painful. His voice was low but you could feel the anger, the pain, in them. "No."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden change in his behavior. Steve had always been protective, but he had never been so authoritarian. You tried to pull your shoulders away from his grip, but he wouldn’t budge.

"Steve, you're hurting me." You mumbled, trying to keep your voice calm even as fear rose within you.

He took a deep breath, eyes softening a little, but his grip still firm. "Sorry." He murmured, slowly releasing you. "I just... I can't let you go. It's dangerous out there, and I can't risk losing you."

You rubbed your shoulders, feeling relief mixed with growing discomfort. "But I can't live like this, Steve. I need my freedom, my space. I can't be a prisoner. I can't."

He shook his head, visibly struggling with his own emotions. "It's not a prison. It's to protect you. You have to understand that."

Steve grabbed your hands and squeezed them gently, touching you as if you were made of glass, and with any wrong touch, you could fall apart. He rubbed your fingers and replied, "I... I really can't let you go."

His words were painful to hear because you knew he was telling the truth. He would never let you go.

#marvel #yandere marvel #x reader #steve rogers x reader #yandere steve rogers #yandere steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #yandere captain america #yandere captain american x reader #emoji prompt #prompt #drabble #yandere au #yandere x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark captain america #dark captain america x reader

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angelyuji · 7 months

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i was thinking abt this last night and i forgot to write it down. however, im in the bathroom peeing in one of the campus bathrooms when i REMEMBERED!

yandere justice league to me is VERY different from yandere avengers (not gonna touch on x-men or the other groups of superheroes just yet).

tw // yandere, physical abuse, manipulation, just… general yandere stuff

yandere justice league are manipulative, obsessive, and possessive, BUT they would never ever ever lay a hand on you/their obsession. like they would kidnap, manipulate, drive u to the brink of madness, but they would never ever physically hurt you. like bruce may borderline harass (y/n) at their place of work, clark may keep (y/n) chained up at the fortress, diana would gaslight (y/n) to the point where they abandon their family, but never would they cross that line of physical abuse.

but yandere avengers… they would use any tool at their disposal to get (y/n) to break. ive written abt steve already (so go check that out). but i feel like the clear difference (to me) is that avengers would hurt u to get what they want.

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yandere-wishes · 9 months

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Normal person: " Whose your favorite Disney prince?"

Me: "Oh, you know the usual..Tony Stark,Darth Maul, Steve Rogers, Anakin Skywalker, Thor Odinson, Kylo Ren, Bucky Barnes, Luke Skywalker, Loki Odinson,Din Djarin"

Them: Those aren't really Disney Princes...

Me: Did I stutter??

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cvrnelians · 21 days

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when the sun hits (drabble)

dark!Steve Rogers x reader: Your best friend may not be as innocent as he seems.

warnings: non-con elements, 18+ only.

The words are quiet. So quiet at first, you wonder if you imagined them. But then they become louder. And as the moments pass, louder still.

“I love you.”

His voice is strained and shaky, but it’s clear he’s confident in what he is saying. Enthusiastic. It’s like a dam has burst; like he knows the answer to a question and simply cannot wait to give you the answer.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. Oh my god…”

You are confused and alarmed as he wraps his arms more tightly around you, moving abruptly to cradle your face in his hands. He loves you? You had been friends for a while, sure. But you had only just started dating. He looks down at you affectionately, eyes glassy and tired. You reach up and grab ahold of his wrists as he brushes his thumb along your cheek. “Steve, wait. Stop.”

He presses his weight down into you, making you let out a little cough. He’s heavy, to say the least. He laughs to himself at the noise, but it’s not malicious—more so amused. The sunset casts an orange haze over the room, highlighting the dimension in his hair, the blue of his eyes. You stop protesting then, lost for words.

In that moment, you can’t help but wonder if he finds you just as beautiful as you find him.

“You want to know something?” he asks, tracing his fingertips along the outline of your lips, the corners of your mouth. “I would do awful things to keep you with me.”

“Incorrect,” you say nonchalantly, reaching up to push some stray hairs away from his face. “You’re too kind for that. And what do you mean by that, anyway? It’s so ominous.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. He ignores your question. “You want to know what else?”

“What else, Steve?”

He leans down, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he speaks.

“Maybe I already have.”

There is something about those words that sends a chill running down your spine, making the mood in the room shift. They’re vague, but there’s something…off about them. The orange glow bathing the room suddenly seems a little sinister. But it’s only Steve, right? You know Steve. He’s your best friend. He doesn’t want to scare you. He’s just…a lot. He gets intense when he’s in a relationship. You’ve seen it before.

You don’t dwell on his words for long. You can’t, completely distracted by the little kisses he’s leaving along your collarbone. You lean your head back, closing your eyes.

To hell with it.

“I love you, too.”

🌅

(what did he do? 👀)

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #yandere steve rogers #yandere Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x reader

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 2 years

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Housewife

Pairing: Dark Steve Rogers x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Freshly married to Steve, you didn’t expect him to be so old-fashioned.

WARNINGS: Misogyny; Toxic Marriage.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

“Quitting my job? What?” you look at Steve, completely dumbfounded whereas he looks at you like you’re a slow thinker. Your husband glances at you before diverting his attention to the newspaper, not giving you much attention.

“Well, we had talked about you becoming a stay-at-home mom, didn’t we?”

“But we don’t have kids yet, Steve. We just got married.” you point out, feeling lost at the direction that this conversation was going. You did previously talk about this, but Steve had assured you that it was your decision to make whenever you felt like it. Now it doesn’t feel like it anymore.

“Then housewife it is. That way you can already start learning how to keep our house nice and presentable, like a wife should.” he concludes, not even sparing you a look as he folds the paper and grabs the coffee mug.

You're at a loss of words, an uncomfortable lump in your throat that doesn’t allow you to argue with Steve. He had always been a bit traditional because of his previous life in a different time.

His society wasn’t as modern as nowadays and that showed as he proposed to you after only 5 months of dating. You were in deep love with him, so you ignored any red flags and married him right away.

Steve often said that he’d change, that he’d become more open-minded but now you’re feeling that he isn’t quite planning to keep his word. Not when he’s the one already making your decisions for you.

Steve notices your mixed feelings and offers you a sympathetic smile, placing his large hand on top of your hand, his simple golden ring shining with the light.

“Honey, don’t sulk. I’m just trying to make our lives easier, each one with their role. It’s for our own sake, for this household and our marriage to work so trust me.” he consoles you, giving your hand a light squeeze. “You understand this, right?”

You keep yourself quiet, not trusting your voice to speak without crumbling down. You give him a weak nod, avoiding his sharp eyes.

“Honey, I asked if you understood. Are you deaf?” his tone changes abruptly as Steve grabs your chin, forcing you to face him. He’s getting angry and right now, you can’t handle an argument.

You dry swallow and force your voice to be steady, meeting his eyes for only a brief second.

“Yes.”

“Good. It’s decided then, don’t forget to send your resignation till the end of this week. I have to leave for work now. Wash the dishes and clean the table, will you?” Steve dismisses you, giving you a quick kiss that you don’t retribute before leaving the table.

As soon as he leaves the room, you bury your face in your hands.

Who the hell did you marry?

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere avengers #yandere marvel #dark marvel #yandere steve rogers #yandere steve rogers x reader #yandere!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #tw: yandere #tw: toxic relationships #yandere x reader

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highonmarvel · 1 year

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Isolation

Steve Rogers: Steve comes back.

An entry for Day 5 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: Isolation, ft Steve Rogers (Captain America) of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Warnings: NON-CON, signs of declining mental health, captivity, 18+!

When Steve first put you in his basement, you nearly scoffed at the cliché: prisoner in the basement, like he couldn’t be bothered to be even slightly more creative. That was a few days ago, you think. You really had no way of telling. You remember screaming and banging on the door—you can still see the faint lines your nails scrapped onto it—but you can’t remember when that was. At first you counted a day as the next time you woke up, but you gave up, not because it’s obviously wildly inaccurate, but because you lost count of that, too.

You were hungrier than comfortable, but by no means starving, so maybe in that way it couldn’t have been too long, right? Without change, there is no time, and there has been no change in the basement since… however long it’s been. You couldn’t even rule out it had been months, though evidently ridiculous as that was considering your relative physical health (or, at least, as far as you can tell, or as far as you’re willing to believe), your sense of trust is out of balance.

Steve had been your best friend, you trusted him most, you never for a split moment thought he would hurt you. Steve, who’d you known all your life, time, as well, you’d known all your life: if you couldn’t trust Steve, could you trust your sense of time? You didn’t realise how much people rely on time, even when they have nothing important to attend to; time is the one constant, hours pass whether you want them to or not: you have no constant now.

You sit on the mattress (stained with a little blood you assume must be your own) hugging your knees to your chest, staring straight ahead. You weren’t going mad, you hadn’t had any hallucinations, had you?

Down here, there had only been the sounds you made—your breathing, your screaming, your crying—but your ears prick at an unfamiliar noise. It’s not unfamiliar, really, just one you haven’t heard in a while. Metal, not a lot, shifting around…

A key in a lock!

You scramble to stand up just as Steve pushes open the door, and your eyes lock immediately. You can’t help but notice even now he still has that superhero stance, his posture, standing tall and strong; assuring to everyone else, intimidating to you. But you refuse to allow yourself to be intimidated.

Steve doesn’t say anything as he begins his decent down the stairs; he looks away, but you stay fixated on him. When he reaches the floor, he turns to you with a smile.

No thought, you just sprint.

You dart towards the steps, but he easily scoops you up, and you’re bent over his shoulder, screaming as you hit your fists against his toned back and kick your legs uselessly in the air.

Another sound you hear, it sounds familiar, sounds like words being formed by a noise different to the one you make when you speak. It’s so bizarre to hear Steve speaking, so bizarre to hear anyone speaking but yourself after all (?) this time of hearing the same melody. It’s so bizarre, in fact, that you don’t really even register it, what he’s saying, until you’re dropped onto the mattress on the floor, falling quite a way (relative to what you would be used to hopping into bed) with a shriek.

“I’ve been alone, too,” he says, towering over you, blocking the single light that illuminates the basement, the light that hasn’t once turned off since you were thrown down here, it hasn’t even flickered.

He suddenly drops to his knees, straddling you. This position feels familiar, too; his knees caging you as you writhe under him in distress; it feels like the second time, now. It is the second time. And the first time this happened it ended with you being literally thrown into his basement. What would he do when he was done this time?

“Look…” he gently raises your right hand to his eyes, examines it, and then tilts it to display your nails to you; they’re bitten down so bad you’re bleeding, or maybe you’re bleeding from clawing at the door, either way, they’re damaged, fairly badly, and you stare back at your own fingers in shock. How could you not have noticed this?

“When you’re alone,” he says, gently, softly laying your hand back down to your side, “You hurt yourself. That’s why you need to stay with me.”

Right! You were at his place, as usual, and as you were falling asleep when he started, started speaking about how you needed to stay with him, because you needed him. Though while he violated you, he spewed the opposite.

“I need you…” he grunted.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thoughts, but that memory seems to be replaying in front of your very eyes, a huge wave of déjà vu crashing over you as Steve strokes the side of your face. You slap his hand away, and that loving gaze he’d been showering you in turns dark. You try to throw a punch to his jaw but he catches your wrists and gives you a disapproving look. It’s extremely frustrating this seems to be so easy for him.

With nothing else to do, you start kicking and screaming; you’re sure it won’t accomplish anything, but you refuse to just roll over and accept this, no. You twist and turn under him until, to your surprise, he raises himself just high enough for you to turn all the way over. Before you can comprehend your little freedom, he brings his knees back down to the back of your own, and though it’s evident he’s not using all his weight, it’s still enough to make you cry out.

He lets his knees fall to the sides and manages to restrict your movements enough to tug your shorts down.

You want to scream No! but after all this time, you’re not sure if your voice can work to form actual words; you’ve only been screaming and sobbing for days. Or hours? Since he left, you haven’t spoken since he left, and you’re not sure if you can now.

You hear him spit in his hand and his soft groans as he strokes himself, and you’re lucky you can’t see it. You try to claw at his legs as you feel him line up with your entrance but he manages to pull your wrists together and shove them into your back.

He enters you slowly and with a soft groan, tears springing to your eyes as you sob, incoherent; you’re sure you’d plead with him to stop if you could. He ignores you and thrusts deep, in and out; you’re sure his careful movements may have looked loving and respectful to someone on the outside, yet it was anything but, despite what he’d have you believe.

“I need you…”

⍟

#sintember 2023 #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x you #soft!dark!steve #soft!dark!steve rogers #yandere steve rogers

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remotepixel · 9 months

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Yandad!Steve Rogers with a reader obsessed with history.

Like, he's researching all these new, modern terms, films, etc, anything to make conversation and yet none of it seems to work. You're polite, sure, but he can tell you're fully engaging and he can't figure out why. Is he saying something wrong? Maybe this particular thing was a 'flop' and he seems stupid for talking about it? He would ask but he wants to fit in, look like he understands, so he simply keeps trying in hopes one of his 'GenZ' things work.

It wasn't until you were having a movie night (he befriended your parents and basically became your babysitter) and he got to see your watch list did he realise where your main interest lies - history documentaries. From Tudor era, to Vikings, to the World Wars.

He mentions it, asking if you would want to watch one since 'he didn't mind', and he could see how your eyes light up. For once, you were genuinely excited to hang out with him, past the common decencies.

Since then, he makes sure to have a story prepared to tell you every time you meet - whether from his childhood or the war. He also went on rabbit holes of other periods of time, just in case you wanted to talk about that, but you liked his personal stories more (something he was very happy about).

He didn't get to talk about his past much, expect when talking about being America's super solider, so having someone, especially you, care about hearing the rest? Mf is over the moon, probably kicks his feet at night thinking about how well you too get on and compares it to those '"When I was a kid...." speeches dads always do.

#RemotePixel #yandere mcu #yandere marvel #platonic yandere #yandere steve rogers #platonic yandere steve rogers

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giorno-plays-piano · 2 years

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No Apologies

Pairing: orc!Bucky Barnes x reader x orc!Steve Rogers

Warnings: noncon, kidnapping, forced marriage, breeding, magic tattoo, double penetration, my usual orc filth, bad dirty talk.

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Strange, you thought, nervously biting your already hurting lips as you watched them giving you a simple massage, their callous thumbs gently drawing circles on your skin. You'd never thought they would prostrate themselves before a human woman they abducted and married against her will.

P.S. Ok, it was not me who wrote it, it was a horny spirit possessing my body yesterday 👀

__________

"Fucking finally!" A huge dark-haired orc twice bigger than any man exclamed, inadvertently making you jump as you stared at him and his friend.

These two barbarians were the ones who captured you and brought you to the orcs' caves where other human women abducted recently were held - before they were forcefully married to those who kidnapped them, that is, just like you were a couple of hours before.

"Did you mark her with a tattoo?"

The orc behind you smirked, proudly gesturing to your naked crotch with a faintly glowing heart - a magic emblem of sorts, an orc's claim to demonstrate you were a monster whore, a wife of an orc. Or of the two of them, like in your case.

"You're scaring her," the other male said gently, his hand on his friend's shoulder as he eyed you up, humming with satisfaction when you tried to stop your tears, humiliated and afraid, completely naked in front of him. "Thank you for preparing her, brother. We'll take it from here."

The orc behind your back let out a sound close to a bark - he was probably laughing - before finally taking his hands off you and marching back to the main cave where the girls were held before they were given to their respective husbands. A couple of hours before you were presented to your personal orc bastards, you were scrubbed clean, marked with a crotch tattoo, and fed a few sickeningly sweet fruits for your first mating night, as orcs called it. Although, technically, tattoo was binding you to your orcs, the ceremony was considered official once they both filled you with their seed, your kidnappers informed you kindly. It was in your best interest, they said, since if your husbands wouldn't fill your baby room, other orcs could make their claim and take you for themselves. All you had to do was to spread your pretty legs and get a good fuck, they smirked, making your nauseous as you clenched your fists, your arms bound behind your back from the moment you were captured.

Well, you couldn't imagine sleeping with these two brutes with their cocks the size of your arm and staying alive.

"It's gonna be alright," the fair-haired orc smiled at you, gesturing to their bed - a pretty fancy bed for crude creatures like them - and stepping closer to you as if he meant no offense, and you wed him willingly. "We won't hurt you."

"Sure," you whispered as you watched the dark-haired orc licking his tusks as he stared directly at your naked chest. It was cruel of them to pretend to be kind, but they were orcs. Cruel was what they were. "You gonna tear me apart, and I will die."

"What? No, no!" The orc protested immediately as you took a step back, shivering, your arms aching from the rope. "We will prepare you properly before doing anything. It won't hurt, I swear!"

Yes, sure. As if they cared about your well-being, dragging you here like a sac, not listening to you wailing while you plead for your life until your throat started to hurt.

The other male narrowed his eyes at you, visibly irritated, before advancing at you and holding you by the arm. You flinched, your eyes on the ground not to provoke him further. You'd probably die if he decided to punch you. "You humans think anyone different from you is a monster, but, unlike you, we never marry a woman to abuse her. You'll be fine, stop trembling like a mouse."

The hot touch of his rough, work-weary hand only made you shake harder. They were two scary, scary creatures, and you could do nothing to protect yourself, naked and bound, alone in the caves full of orcs who treated you like a child's toy. Nothing good was gonna happen to you here. It was bad enough to be kidnapped, but kidnapped by monsters...

You didn't even feel it when tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. Again.

"Please don't hurt me," you mumbled, afraid to raise your eyes to your captors, your knees trembling.

The orcs looked at each other silently, and the blonde one shook his head, sending his friend a sad smile. The other one softened his grasp on your arm then, gently guiding you to the bed with his other hand caressing your back. "We won't, little girl. I promise, it won't hurt at all."

He waited until you landed on the bed with an anxious look on your face and gestured to the several little bottles on a nightstand you haven't seen before, the other orc opening one of them and pouring some sort of oil on his hand. "Look, all of this is to make you feel better. We'll oil you well before doing anything, and magic will help. It won't hurt even a second. It's your mating night, it's for your and our pleasure."

He nodded to his friend who eagerly spread the thick herbal substance between his huge palms, and the man landed on his knee, taking your feet and massaging the oil into the skin. For a second you shivered, expecting something weird to happen, but you felt nothing except warmth slowly spreading beneath orc's fingers. It was... alright. He wasn't beating you into submission, at least.

"See? We'll put it all over your body, and you'll feel fantastic," the fair-haired male sent you a reassuring smile, pouring the oil directly on your skin, massaging it into your feet and going up as you stared at him, dumbfounded. He was really giving you a massage, an orc who kidnapped you and forced you to marry him just a couple of hours before. "Bucky, help me, please."

You stared at them, unsure, when they both put themselves of their knees in front of you, each taking your foot in their hands and slowly rubbing in the oil. It was still scary to let those huge men, almost complete strangers, touch you, but at least they weren't actively trying to rape or punch you. Strange, you thought, nervously biting your already hurting lips as you watched them giving you a simple massage, their callous thumbs gently drawing circles on your skin. You'd never thought they would prostrate themselves before a human woman they abducted and married against her will. Why were they doing it? Why bother about what you felt? They clearly didn't care for your consent before, so why?

The more oil they used, the less cold you felt, you came to realize as orcs rubbed your unbound hands and shoulders with care, their breathing deep, calm as if they weren't aroused by your naked body. You could almost believe them if you didn't see their cocks bulging beneath the fabric of their pants. Instantly panicking, you raised your eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking there, and they softly rubbed your wrists where it hurt the most from the ropes.

No, they said they wouldn't abuse you. Surely, there was no reason to lie to you? They could have already taken what they wanted, there was no need to coax you into mating with them. It would still feel good for them even if they tore you apart. Instead, they kept spreading this strange magical essence, making sure you were all covered in it, their hands travelling to your shoulders and stomach as they kept rubbing your skin glistening from oil.

It almost felt nice, especially Bucky's arms on your belly. All of a sudden the dark-haired orc you were so scared of turned out to be really affectionate with you, his hands massaging your tummy tenderly but not going lower as he stood on his knees in between your thighs, his friend sitting on the bed behind your back, his fingers softly rubbing below your shoulder blades. It felt good. Serene. The orcs seemed almost disarming now. Was it the magic of the oil? It must have been. But weren't you supposed to feel hot by now? You thought the oil definitely contained some form of an aphrodisiac, considering they were going to bed you, anyway. But you just felt calm and nice, and it didn't make you want to jump on their cocks.

"I thought you'd put something arousing in there," you admitted as Bucky put his hands on your hips, and the other orc, Steve, chuckled. "So that I'd do it with you."

"We don't need any sex potions to arouse you. This oil is to make you relax. Doesn't it feel nice now?" he whispered into your ear gently, his hands cupping your breasts. "You'll be soft and warm, that's all you need to feel pleasure. Now please spread your thighs for Bucky, he has to put this oil inside you, and you won't feel pain at all when we bed you."

Letting your body relax and lean on Steve's chest for support, you slowly spread your legs for Bucky, and he generously poured magic oil onto his palm before covering your crotch with it, his thick fingers rubbing your lower lips and your clit as you exhaled loudly, turning your eyes to the ceiling. It was better now. Maybe you hadn't wed them willingly, but they treated you far better than you expected. Now you believed they weren't going to tear you apart, and you let out a sigh of relief, tears finally falling down your cheeks before Bucky gently wiped them away, his fingers caressing your face as you stared at his soft, warm expression.

Your breasts were already slick with oil, too, but Steve was still massaging them, pressing his thumbs in your nipples, rubbing them in between his thick fingers so that they became puffy and started to itch. Soon it felt really good when he pinched and tugged them a little, leaving nice little kisses behind your ear.

When Bucky slipped his fingers inside your already leaking pussy, you were kissing Steve then who stuck his longue, thick tongue down your throat. It took just a little fingering till you cummed nicely, Bucky's hand slick with your juices as you moaned, your lower belly pleasantly hot. You cummed two more times once your orcs started eating your holes out, their lovely tongues reaching every right place as you orgasmed with your legs spread wide, your knees trembling. Yes, it felt really nice now when Bucky's tongue pressed that spongy spot inside you, and you cummed on his face.

When you let out a moan again, Bucky left a loving kiss on your crotch tattoo gleaming softly in the dark. "That's a good girl. See, told you it would feel nice."

You caressed his thick, coarse dark hair absent-mindedly, "It's because you didn't put your horse cocks in me. They're too huge."

You heard Steve snickering as he hugged you from behind, his pulsing member rubbing your lower back. "Horse cocks, baby? That's a very nice thing to say."

Bucky smiled at that, his fingers on your aching clit, "Don't worry, the oil is working. Now we can breed your cunt, and you'll feel real good, kitten. I bet you'd ride me first thing tomorrow morning."

"Doubtful," you murmured before Steve turned your face to him and made you open your mouth, his tongue licking yours as his cockhead teased the tight ring of your muscles, slowly penetrating your ass.

Bucky was getting as much impatient, his monstrous cock sliding with ease in your pussy while you let out a sigh: it felt so good, just as they said it would. They were warm and strong and gentle, and even their cocks felt right once they started moving in one rhythm, stretching your holes. Your pussy had been tiny for Bucky's member thick as your arm, but now when his cockhead kissed your cervix, you just cummed a little, your pussy spasming and clenching around a nice, thick cock. Having Steve fuck your ass was even more bizarre idea, and yet it didn't hurt either. On the contrary, when his cock was rubbing against Bucky's, separated just by the back wall of your vagina, you orgasmed again with your eyes rolling inside your skull.

Fuck, that was it. You needed to mate. You wanted your holes full of orcs' seed to consummate your marriage and have them fucking you whenever you wanted. Wouldn't it be nice? It'd be so lovely if you could just stroke their cocks whenever you felt like fucking, and they'd sandwiched you between their bodies like now. You imagined walking up to Bucky and just getting your panties down, showing off your aching pussy to have him hammer his cock in you immediately. Or perhaps complaining to Steve that your empty cunt hurt, and you needed his thick, fat cum to feel better. Surely, it would be lovely to have them constantly use their cocks to please you.

You were cumming your brains out. You couldn't even count how many times you orgasmed already, the orcs changing angles and poses to have you on cloud 9. They were talking to you - Steve said something about the restriction to cum in your mouth unless you got knocked up, but Bucky assured him you were getting pregnant real soon - but you couldn't say much with your brain switched off. Now you could only think with your pussy. Sure, why not get pregnant with little orclings? Your orc husbands said they'd keep fucking you, anyway. They'd be so proud of you with your tattoo getting bigger, showing you were knocked up with orcs' seed, a sweet little slut with monster babies in your belly. Your orc husbands would fuck you as much as you wanted them if that happened, they promised to you as your pussy started spasming again, the tip of Bucky's cock kissing your cervix.

"I think it's time," Steve licked his lips, slowly taking his cock our of your ass while you moaned in protest. "Shhhh, baby. We have something special for you."

The other orc smirked, pulling out his member, too, his tip rubbing your drenched lower lips until Steve's cock joined him. You opened your eyes right away.

"It can't be," you said, your voice hoarse as you stared Steve in the face. "You're joking."

"No, baby, you're ready to take us both," he murmured, squeezing your perky nipples as his cockhead penetrated your cunt, Bucky's member entering your poor leaking hole at the same time, stretching it enourmously. "We have to end the mating ceremony like that, fucking you in one hole. Look how good you're taking us."

You stared with horror at your bulging belly, their cocks stretching you so much it looked like you were already pregnant. Shit, why did it feel so good to have them in your cunt together? These too monstrous, barbaric cocks pounding your sweet human pussy, soiling it with their dirty cum, forcing you to bear them babies... Could you ask them to do it more? To have their cocks in you every day? Bucky said something about you riding him tomorrow, right? You could do that. You could milk his horse cock till he emptied his balls in you. And you could suck Steve off real good, regardless of the taboo. You were definitely gonna get knocked up today, why waiting when you could give him a great blowjob with your tight throat?

Shit, two monster cocks abusing your cervix felt so fucking good.

Yeah, you were gonna make babies with them. You were gonna let your orcs have you where they wanted you if you got to command them to fuck you whenever you wanted to.

"A nice creampie for you, baby, for being so good to us," Bucky murmured into your lips, kissing you as your belly grew bigger with his and Steve's seed filling your baby room. "Look, your tattoo is already glowing. Congratulations on becoming an orc mama, you sweet slut."

____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodierin @yeolliedokai @what-is-your-wish @lou-la-lou @gachawipes133 @eralen @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #yandere #orc!stucky

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screechingsandwichtriumph · 3 months

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Platonic yandere avengers

Romantic yandere spiderman

This is for the egg ask I got and I'm sorry but It got deleted twice when I had made some really good progress so this is going to be maybe a little short

Warnings: fighting , limping , implied yandere behavior , I wrote this in the middle of the night

Summary: this thing basically

Feel free to drop me an ask<3

When the egg fell out of your pocket and cracked you started hyperventilating. Natasha assumed it was some normal panic attack that was simply triggered by the fallen egg, and was ready to try and comfort you

On the other hand Thor was confused on why you had an egg in your pocked and an unboiled one for the fact!

Before Natasha could comfort you , bucky an expert at panic attacks stepped in , trying to assure you about how this wasn't a big deal , noone was mad at you and that you were safe , even going as far as to say that they had other eggs in the fridge and he could get you one if you wnted

At the sound of that offer , tony was in common ground and went as far as to offer you a whole chicken 'so you can have eggs whenever you want to apparently'??

Peter just sat there staring at you feeling helpless not knowing how to help you in any way. With all the staring he did, he noticed your hand discreetly slipping in your back pocket and pulling out your favorite pair of scissors that you carried everywhere with you. He felt fearful for your safety ad attempted to say something but was cut of by something extraordinary happening

On the other hand , the only thing you could think about was how to get out of there before-

A teenage girl around yours and Peter age shot out of the egg before you were even able to finish your thoughts

Everyone stood around you and the girl , obvious confusion showing on their faces.

Everything was evolving so fast though and they had time to ask no questions, since when you listened to the screeches from outside the tower , the scissors in your hand got turned to a pair of beautiful swords

You were out of the tower and defeated the monster in a very skillful and efficient way.

After you were done , the monster was slayed ad the girl freed , you returned to the avengers

Clint noticed your subtle limbing and thought about how strong you were unbeknownst to them, and how they had insisted on babying you

Clint had taken you to a cute coffee shop , to buy you some chocolate( he of course couldn't buy you coffee, you are just a baby) and some much needed caffeine in any kind for himself

Him and the other avengers had agreed that new York was just too dangerous for you to walk alone and had decide that each day one of them would take you to school and of of it just to keep you safe

You of course noticed the man coming through the door and you instantly knew you were in danger

You quietly informed Clint about the face. The man quickly pushed you behind his back, not aware yet of what the problem was.

It turned out you were right and he prevented an armed robbery that da while you went to school late and holding some macdonalds.

They never really wondered how you knew you were in danger only ever discussing about how it is actually even more dangerous than they thought outside

On that note Tony placed a tracker on your pai of shoes and favorite jacket, not wanting to let you get hurt.

Peter was obviously worried about you but he felt other things too

First of all he felt relief because now at least they knew what was harming you and could figure out ways to stop it

On the other hand he was a bit turned on by you

They all gathered around you , while Tony had already tasked Friday to analyze the whole video and find out was is happening

They once again began babying you , fretting over your situation and minor injuries

A lot of questions were asked that day and by the end of the interrogation conversation you were left exhausted and fell asleep on the couch

The team of course considered that super cute and Wanda snapped a few pictures of your sleeping form with your favorite blanket placed over you .

Then it was time for their grown up talk , that included everyone but you

' ok, I felt the magic coming out of this monster, but it also radiated of her too. Those swords may be the source of it all'

Wanda explained to the team. They all talked about you for hours , unable to decide how to handle the situation

If you think that them knowing about you being powerful and capable, made them any more attentive and worried , you are wrong. If anything everything intensified since now they knew you were in harm's way.......

This is for @slaymbo <3 who keeps me productive:)

#x reader #fanfic #yandere #yandere avengers #yandere ironman #yandere tony stark #yandere spiderman x reader #yandere Natasha Romanoff #yandere clint barton #yandere steve rogers #yandere bucky barnes #yandere wanda maximoff #yandere peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker #peter parker x reader #🕷️

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atlasscrumpit · 1 year

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Yandere Steve/Bucky

(au where they won the war, Steve didn't die and Bucky didn't fall off a train, set in the 40s)

Bucky looked down at you and smiled, running his hand through your hair.

"Steve's going to love you so much, darling girl. Our perfect girl." He whispered to himself while he played with your soft hair.

"Our perfect wife." He whispered, smiling before he heard the door open.

He left your room and saw Steve coming home.

"Hey, Buck." He muttered as Bucky smiled.

"I have a very special gift for you, punk." Bucky said as Steve looked at him in confusion and slight worry.

"What's going on?" Steve asked as Bucky grabbed his hand and pulled him to where you were unconscious.

"Y/N?" He muttered, quickly rushing up to your bedside.

"Is she okay?" He asked as Bucky smiled.

"She's perfect, Steve. You always talked about how perfect she would be as a wife. Now she can be." Bucky said as Steve looked at him with confusion.

"What? What are you on about?" Steve asked as he looked back at you and felt your forehead for a temperature.

"She doesn't know what's good for her, Steve. All those dates she goes on? Those disgusting men always around her, living in a crappy apartment by herself. The war is over, Steve. Don't we deserve a good life? Don't we deserve to have her as our perfect wife?" Bucky said as Steve looked at him in shock.

"Bucky, what the hell has gotten into you?" Steve asked as Bucky grit his teeth together.

"She is staying here! I burnt down her apartment anyway!" Bucky shouted as Steve looked at him in utter disbelief.

"Bucky... What the hell?" Steve growled before they heard a noise from you.

Steve looked back to see you starting to wake up.

"Buck, out. I won't mention what you did but I'm not letting you talk to her right now." Steve scolded as Bucky took a deep breath and left without another word.

Steve looked down at you as your eyes started to flutter open.

"Easy, Y/N." Steve whispered as you began to wake up.

"Steve? What's going on?" You asked as he helped you sit up, you were still pretty groggy.

"It's okay, you're at Bucky and I's apartment. What's the last thing you remember, love?" He asked as you tried to think back.

"I went out to lunch with Bucky and then I remember not feeling well so we went back to the car and then I fell asleep." You muttered as Steve nodded.

He needed to come up with a pretty good lie.

"Well, there was a fire at your apartment, nothing survived. I think Bucky was trying to find a way to tell you but he didn't want to wake you up." He said as you looked at him in confusion.

"My home burnt down?" You muttered with sadness in your eyes.

"Yes, love. But, it's okay, this can be your home now. You can stay with Bucky and I." He said as you nodded a little.

"Bucky was acting weird when we went to lunch, is he okay?" You asked, Steve sighed but nodded his head.

"Yeah, I think he's just a bit all over the place at the moment. After he came back from fighting he was different...but I guess that's to be expected. Especially because Hydra captured him." Steve replied as you nodded.

"Yeah... You're right."

Everything seemed suspicious about this situation, you trusted Steve and Bucky but they had been acting weirder than usual...especially Bucky.

You were making breakfast for them one morning and you felt arms wrap around your waist, you knew it was Bucky but your never been very affectionate with either of them.

"Buck?" You muttered as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"I could get used to this." He muttered as you chuckled awkwardly.

"I just thought I would do something nice for you since you've let me stay here." You replied as he backed away a little.

"I was thinking... Why don't you live here permanently? I know you've been looking for other places but I don't think it's a good idea." He said as you looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" You asked as sighed.

"Y/N, you can't live alone in an apartment you're whole life. Who's going to take care of you?" He asked, you looked at him and backed away.

"I can take care of myself, Bucky." You replied with anger evident in your voice.

"No, you can't Y/N. You need Steve and I, we will take care of you, spoil you and you can be our perfect little housewife." He said, stepping forward as you looked at him in fear.

"What the hell has gotten into you!" You shouted as he pushed you against the counter and kept a grip on your hip with one hand.

"You need me, you need us, we have to take care of you." He whispered as he leant in and forcefully kissed you.

You tried to push him away before someone grabbed him.

"Bucky, enough!" Steve yelled as Bucky backed away.

"Y/N, love. Thank you for breakfast, just go into your room while I sort this out, okay?" Steve said as you nodded and ran off obediently.

"Why does she obey you so easily!" Bucky says about to rush towards you before Steve grabbed him.

"Buck! Enough, you need to calm down. This is all too much for her, I agree that we have to take care of her but she needs time to settle in, okay?" Steve said in a stern way as Bucky sighed and nodded.

"You're right, we need to take it slow." He replied as Steve nodded and let him go.

"She'll realise she needs us soon enough."

#Mcu #Marvel #marvel cinematic universe #Bucky #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Yandere bucky #yandere bucky barnes #Yandere Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader

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yandereheros · 3 months

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Hi, I’m Jay!

I’m very new to tumblr, so tips would be appreciated. I’m interested in writing (Yandere) Male!DC or Male!Marvel characters paired with Fem!Reader. I can make it gender neutral upon request though! I’m open to writing NSFW though I’ve never attempted to write it before.

#yandere superfam #yandere jason todd #yandere avengers #yandere batman #yandere mcu #yandere tony stark #yandere deadpool #yandere jon kent #platonic yandere #yandere dc #yandere marvel #yandere steve rogers #yandere batfam #yandere superman

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 2 years

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Secluded Paradise

Pairing: Dark Steve Rogers x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend is tired of your technology addiction so he takes matters into his own hands.

WARNINGS: Imprisonment; Toxic Relationship.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

“And I was thinking we should go to the country house for the weekend, it could be like a getaway from the city. No phones or wi-fi, just us. What do you think, honey?” Steve asks, his blue eyes squinting at your figure, who continues completely focused on the phone.

“Honey?” he repeats himself, his voice only demonstrating a small hint of anger as he reaches to tap on your arm a bit, successfully grabbing your attention.

You look at him, confusion blinding your eyes which only makes Steve even more annoyed at you.

“Yeah, sure, sure. Whatever you want, babe.” you hurriedly agree, returning your attention back to your phone. Steve clenches his hand and takes a deep breath as he tries to keep his anger away.

It’s hard to live in this new modern century where everyone has technology addiction. He usually tries his best to be patient when you’re glued to the device or when you ask him to take millions of pictures of yourself, just so that in the end you only choose one to post on your social media.

It’s complicated though, he’s a patient man but even Captain America has his own limits to the point that it’s reaching its end.

Steve isn’t blind to the way that you seem to rejoice with all the attention you receive online. With Natasha’s extensive help, he actually managed to learn some rudimentar basics of navigating the online world, going as far as to creating a secret account.

All of this just to keep track of you - a man needs to keep tabs on his woman, of course.

Yet something that worsened his mood was noticing how many pictures you had displayed there, with an abundance of male comments where most of them used very vulgar language.

Something you clearly had no problem with. If anything, it seemed like you thoroughly enjoyed the attention, rewarding those unknown men with even more pictures of you wearing scandalous outfits.

Plus, having a decent conversation with you was getting harder and harder as your attention was uniquely on your phone at all times. You had no time to even make small conversation, much less discuss future life plans.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he signals the waiter to bring the check and quickly pays, helping you to stand up and dress your jacket.

“I’m gonna start planning for our vacations. You’re going to love them.” he says, grabbing your free hand. You don’t offer any response, the fingers of your free hand rapidly tapping on the screen. Steve swallows his annoyance once again as he makes up his mind.

He’s not going to tolerate it much more.

“Steve! Oh my god!”

Steve is leaning against the kitchen counter, merely watching as you struggle with your phone. You’re trying to go up on the couch of the living room, elevating your phone in hopes of catching a wi-fi signal.

Steve’s lips curl at that sight, it’s nice to see you so desperate, so needy for something.

“Darling, I told you we don’t have any internet here.” he patiently reminds you as if you’re a child. Your hand drops as you gasp in horror, looking back at him.

“But…but…I need it, Steve.” you whine, a pout starting to form on your glossy lips. It makes Steve’s dick feel alive, he likes it when you beg. But right now, he has to be stern about this.

“No, you don’t. A few days without that annoying device won’t kill you.” he places his hands at his hips, his tone getting sterner.

“But-”

“Enough, goddamnit!”

You immediately shut up, frightened by Steve’s shout. The hand holding your phone slowly falls down and you look at Steve, shocked. His face turns almost remorseful for a moment, but then that expression disappears and he returns to his normal self again.

“Now, let me show you around. You’re going to love the house, the master bedroom is really huge and has one of those big television screens, the garden is just…” Steve rambles like he didn’t just snap at you.

He offers you a wide smile, motioning towards the stairs with one of his huge hands, but you remain glued to your spot, hand strongly clutching the phone as if your life depends on it. Ironic since it doesn’t even have a signal.

“I think I wanna go home.” you declare with a shaken voice. Steve’s smile disappears and an impatient expression takes over.

“Nonsense. We just got here, honey.” Steve rubs his face, as if he’s tired. His voice starting to have an annoyed accent, making his irritation more obvious. You don’t like that.

“I want to go back.” you repeat, stepping out of the couch and starting to head towards the main door.

As soon as your hand reaches for the handle, a muscled arm bars the door. You turn your head towards Steve, his brows united in an irritated frown.

“Why do you always have to be a fucking brat?” he raises his voice and you immediately take a step back. He’s never spoken to you in this way.

“Oh now is when you decide to get scared? Not when those creeps comment on your slutty pictures online. Maybe that’s what you like, huh?” He darkly chuckles, seeing you scared.

You keep your silence, your heart throbbing in your ears. The door is so close but you know that with Steve around, you’ll never actually get to leave. This new Steve is starting to scare you.

But you can’t go against him, you have no idea what he’ll do yet one thing is clear: he’s much stronger than you are.

As the silence uncomfortably grows, Steve lets out a sigh and removes his hand. You don’t dare to move, knowing that he won’t let you leave.

“Listen, I just want to spend some quality time with my girlfriend. Is that too much to ask?” he says, his voice sounding honest and apologetic. Like he’s the old Steve.

You look at him and that's when it strikes you. You can’t leave without the car.

Steve is the one that drove all the way here and you did notice the house being located in a secluded area, no stores and no other houses around.

It took almost one hour by car to get here, no way you’d be able to find your way back without the car. Whose keys are with Steve.

You stiffly nod and Steve immediately takes your hand with a strong hold.

“Let’s go on with the house tour then. You’re going to love it, honey.”

Silence and darkness rules over the entire house. No city sounds that usually disturb the night. You don’t like it, it’s too peaceful for your taste.

It’s boringly calm, but Steve probably loves it hence he fell asleep so fast. You can’t hear a single sound coming from his room, meaning that he’s most certainly asleep.

It’s time, then.

You rise from the bed and silently tiptoe towards the living room, not even bothering to grab your bag or to dress in warmer clothes. You’re eager to get out of this horrible place already and once you reach the city, you’ll just break-up with Steve and move on with your life.

You saw Steve placing both the house and the car keys inside a bowl on the counter, next to the door after dinner. It’s perfect, when you think about it.

You can lock Steve inside and take the car. Not that a weak lock would do much against Steve’s inhuman strength but the idea grows into you, it doesn’t hurt to lock a door.

Finally reaching the living room, you almost run towards the counter. You immediately dip your hand into the bowl, only for your fingers to grab air. Your eyes widen in horror and when you look, it's empty.

A cough is heard from behind you and your heart drops to your feet.

No, no.

This cannot be happening, not when you were so close to freedom. You squint your eyes tight for a moment, trying to muster up some courage before you finally turn around.

Steve is leaning against a wall, a slightly annoyed but mostly arrogant expression on his face.

A growing smirk curls his lips, amused to see you try to get away when in reality you'd never be able to do so. You were too busy with your phone to realize that the house had an eletric fence, one that required a code to open. Silly you.

“Looks like you’re stuck here with me, babe”

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere avengers #yandere marvel #dark marvel #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #yandere steve rogers x reader #yandere steve rogers #yandere!steve rogers #yandere!steve rogers x reader #tw: yandere #tw: toxic relationships #yandere x reader #yandere scenario #yandere scenarios #tw: dark content

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