#yandere steve rogers x you

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Hii!! Just a thought, would any of the yanderes baby trap a particularly difficult reader?

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘-𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆…

!!! GN reader, children (lmao), manipulation, coercion into parenting, delusions, slight threats, impregnation mention (it’s not the reader, though), obligatory Tim Drake warning, mentions of possible harm to children.

I’m assuming you just mean the comic book yanderes. Let’s see!

I kept the actual baby-acquisition vague. Could be one or both of y’all’s biological kid, could be adopted, could be kidnapped. Who knows! I also gave them ratings on how they would be as a father, cuz why not.

Bruce Wayne: Yes. Absolutely. This is Bruce we’re talking about. You know, the guy who’s never beating the empty-nester allegations? As long as you’re with him, you’re bound to end up with a kid one way or another. Whether he set out to baby trap you or ended up with a child by chance, he is for sure going to hold it over your head. This kid is going to have both of their parents in their life, biological or not. It’s like a new kid spawns in the manor every time you get even a little bit rebellious. (7/10 father; still has his issues, but he’s learned from his past mistakes.)

Bucky Barnes: Okay, I don’t think he’d initially see himself as a family man. Just never crossed his mind, given his life as the Winter Solider. If he did end up with a kid, it would definitely be by accident. But when that happens, he’ll start to give it a little more thought. The idea of a family… it sounds so domestic; so normal. Uh-oh. Instant baby fever. Now he wants even more kids, and he’ll acquire them by any means necessary. Doesn’t manipulate you with any children, but you may feel obligated to stick around; the Winter Soldier does NOT seem like the type to be good at parenting. (5/10 father; doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s at least enthusiastic.)

Clark Kent: This man wants the classic nuclear family life. While he wouldn’t set out to baby-trap you, it will inadvertently happen with his desire for children. He wants to be tackled by at least 3 kids every time he comes home! And if he’s already had Jon, I can see him making it his mission to find the perfect spouse; that’s how he finds you!! Oh, you’re not good with kids? Doesn’t matter. This man is delusional as fuck. It’s not like he sees you for who you are, anyway. Keep in mind that he’s projecting an idealized version of a spouse onto you. (10/10 father; amazing with kids and is willing to pull your weight when you’re being difficult.)

Dick Grayson: If it comes down to it, he will. Any form of manipulation is fair game, and hey… he’s always dreamed of starting a family of his own one day. Even if you’re not big on kids, he’s willing to play the long game to try and get you to change your mind. And if you never do? Welp. That’s too bad. You’re still gonna end up with a child somehow (Dick’s got plenty of ways to make sure of that). When he finally gets what he wants, he’s for sure using the “think of our kid(s)” card any chance he gets. (9/10 father; he’s a family man at heart, and everyone around him thinks it was only a matter of time.)

Hal Jordan: A bit iffy on starting a family. He doesn’t hate kids, he just isn’t sure if he’s ready. However, as soon as he realizes a child in your life could make you more compliant, he quickly starts to sing a different tune. Now he’s all for having kids!! He’d be obsessed with the power it gives, every interaction between you two having that subtle warning of, “try and escape me now.” Papa-Bear Hal is not a force to be reckoned with. You may find yourself not liking the consequences of trying to break up this happy little family. (8/10 father; there’s a bit of a learning curve for him, but he’ll eventually fall into the groove of it.)

Jaime Reyes: Nope. The thought of having kids makes him sick to his stomach. He knows there’s something wrong with him… god only knows what would happen to his kids. The what if’s would drive him insane, easily trumping the possible gains of baby-trapping you. Sure, it might be a bit tempting — and he’ll admit, a small part of him wishes he could one day be a father — but not only would he feel extremely guilty, he also knows that it’s a bad fucking idea. Hopefully, he can continue to ignore Khaji Da’s own thoughts on the matter. It doesn’t matter how important “continuing the Reyes legacy” is, he’s not taking that risk. (6/10 father; despite his fits of spiraling paranoia, he needs to give himself a little more credit).

Peter Parker: Honestly, it’s a toss up. He’s got his concerns with being a father, but thinking about it makes him all giddy inside. I think this would be another case of accidental baby-trapping. He didn’t set out to do it, but hey… if it works, it works. Any “but what about our kid(s)” that he throws at you is by no means intentional manipulation; he’s just genuinely worried what would happen if you left. Then again, I can also see him slightly doing it. As soon as he realizes it works, he’ll keep it in mind. A thing he’ll tuck away for later and only use when absolutely needed. (9/10 father; loves his kid(s) and would do anything for them).

Remy LeBeau: Yeah, probably. As long as he’s in a position where he can have a kid or two, he’ll go for it. Remy secretly longs for a family (though he’ll never admit it), and if starting one means earning your compliance? Well, shit… that’s just killing two birds with one stone! But again, this depends on if he’s in a position where kids are viable. Should he still have some unfinished business to attend to, he’s not gonna be dumb enough to have kids. Growing up in the Thieves Guild taught him a thing or two about why that’s a bad idea. Otherwise, you are not immune to a sudden baby-acquisition by yours truly. (7/10 father; he gives chill baby daddy vibes who tries his best to be there for his kids.)

Scott Summers: Oh, yeah. It’s guaranteed to happen. This man is committed to having a semi-normal life, no matter how unrealistic that may seem. He wants a family. He wants you to be obedient. He wants a sense of normalcy, goddamnit. Y’all are having a kid whether you want one or not. And he leans heavily towards having a biological kid. If you don’t have the means to get pregnant — or fight tooth and nail against the idea — he’s 100% impregnating someone else and stealing their baby. Yes, it’s a crazy idea. Yes, he’s willing to go that far. Don’t test him. He’ll yell and shout at you about how you need to be there for this fucking kid, even if it’s not yours. It’s in your best interest if you comply. (6/10 father; he’s chronically fighting against the absent father allegations and MIGHT be winning… results are still pending.)

Steve Roger: Poor guy wants to settle down so bad. Yes, he’d baby-trap you, but I can see him feeling guilty for it. He knows it’s wrong, and it would especially weigh down on him if you didn’t even want kids in the first place. But he wants a family so bad. He can’t help it!! And as big of a piece of shit he may feel afterwards, he’ll do what’s necessary to make you behave. You need to be here for your kids! If a little bit of manipulation makes you stay, then so be it. He’s surprisingly good at guilt-tripping, making a good case with the image he has to uphold as Captain America. What would people think if they learned he was a single father? What assumptions would they make about you if you left him? Society might not be all that kind to you. It’s best to just stay. (8/10 father; can get a little busy, but he’s definitely there when it matters the most.)

Tim Drake: Not a fan of kids. There might be a chance of him coming up with a baby-trapping scheme during one of his weird fits, but let’s hope he snaps out of it before it’s too late. Do NOT let bro be a father. On the off-chance that he does acquire a kid… pray. And I mean PRAY. His version of baby-trapping ranges from “but this kid needs you” to “I will fucking kill this kid if you leave.” A situation like this means you have to familiarize yourself with Tim’s mood swings. Be compliant at first, then when he starts to second-guess himself, try to gently coax him into giving this child a better home. Hopefully, that poor kid will survive everything unscathed. Tim wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something bad happened to them. (0/10 father; he’d actually do an alright job when he’s mentally stable, but I think everyone — including Tim himself — would agree that he’d do more harm than good raising a kid.)

Wally West: Yup. No hesitation. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he will get to scheming immediately. His goal would be to make it seem like a natural evolution, even if you’re not keen on the idea of kids. Wally is such a master at masking his manipulation, to the point where it’s unclear if he’s actually baby-trapping you or not, and by the time you’ve realize it… welp… too late. Arguing with him is absolutely frustrating, cuz Wally West does not argue; he smooth talks until makes you feel like an idiot. Wanna know how cruel he is? Those kids will grow up to be accomplices in his manipulation, whether they know it or not. No one can put a stop to his fuckery. (9/10 parent; turns out to be a phenomenal father, I just have to take a point off simply because raising your kids to be just as manipulative as him probably isn’t good.)

[yandere-wishes]

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??

[highonmarvel]

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…”

⍟

[yanderemcu]

Yandere Steve Rogers Alphabet

A=Affection (How do they show their love for you) 

Cuddling,hand holding,kissing,hugging,holding,arm over shoulder

B=Bound (How much do they share with you) 

Wants no secrets between you two

C=Cruel (How do they punish you) 

Spanking,isolation, yelling,starving,force feeding,takes things from you

D-Desire (How long until they take you) 

3 months

E=Even (To what level are they dominant) 

Same level as you

F=Future(What are their future plans for the two of you) 

Get married. Have a kid or two. Get a dog.

G=Gifts (What do they give you) 

Old stuff,stuff animals, CDS,sweets,food,flowers,jewerrly

H=Hell (Worst experience with them) 

His punishments, his killings,his jealous moments, his angry moments

I=Insane (How insane did they get because of you) 

9/10

J=Jealous(How easily do they get jealous) 

Very easily

K=Killing (How do they handle killing) 

Strangles them or throws his shield at him

L=Language (What is their love language) 

All of them

M=Manipulation(What could you do to get your way) 

Show him a bit of affection,be sweet to him or do a chore

N=No (To what strength would they go for you) 

He'd do anything for you

O=Obsessed (How obsessed are they with you) 

10/10

P=Pet names(What do they call you)  

Doll,dollface,angel,angelface,dove,darling,honey,sweetheart,babe

Q=Quit (How would they act if you died) 

This would break Steve

R=Runaway (What are your chances to get away) 

Follows you and brings you back home

S=Stalking (How good are they at stalking you) 

8.5/10

T=Type  (What type of yandere are they) 

Stalker,Obsessive,Caring, Sweet,Possessive, Delusional, Overprotective

U=Unique (Different from other yanderes) 

He's a bit old fashioned

V=Vine (How would they feel if you fought back) 

Punishes you over and over again

W=Will (Would they do anything against their loves will) 

Ties you up,force feeding, holding,forces you to do things

X=X-Ray (How much do they keep hidden from you) 

Nothing

Y=Yearning (How much do they want you) 

7/10

Z=Zzz (How do you two fall asleep together) 

Cuddles you tightly and closely in bed

[crowwritesaway]

Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader 2/3

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked him. “I miss Y/N.” Steve understood him. He missed his girlfriend too. “It’s hasn’t even been 24 hours.” Natasha said, rolling her eyes.

Bucky glared at the time. “It’s been 4. And it still not over.” He grumbled, playing with crotchet bracelet that you made him. “Should we go ahead and check where they are now?” Steve suggested. He was anxious to see his girlfriend too. Natasha shook her head and walked off.

Bucky smirked. “Way ahead of you.” Bucky showed him his phone. “She’s at the library.” Steve pulled his phone out. He unlocked it and clicked on the app dedicated just for his girlfriend. The same app that Bucky had for you. It showed where you were and what websites you used. It had everything they needed.

Steve smiled. “She’s at a coffee shop.” He clicked on a story she posted on Instagram. It wouldn’t show his profile. “There’s that smile I love.” Bucky sighed. “It’s nothing compared to having her in front of me. I need her.” I miss her. Steve sighed. “Stupid bet. It should’ve been 48 hours without leaving our bed.”

Meanwhile, Y/N was reading a book. The only thing that could be heard was the pages that were being turned. She put the bookmark in her book. A gift from Bucky. She smiled as she tucked it in the book. It was a picture of him. Adorable. He can be so adorable. She took out her phone and click on the side to turn her phone on. It has been 4 hours. I wonder what he’s doing.

It had been another hour and they felt like they were suffocating without their girlfriends. “We should go check it see if they are safe.” Steve said, putting his phone in his pocket. Bucky nodded in agreement. “You read my mind. It’s not like anyone would know.” They both stood up from the chair. The chairs fell back from the force. “See ya.”They both exited the building. What if she needs me and I’m right here when I could be near her. It’s not like she’ll know.

You put your phone away. I wonder how long it’ll take him to find me. You opened your book and set the bookmark aside with an amused smile on your face. Natasha had sent you a message about Bucky leaving the building in a hurry. This’ll be fun.

Stay around for more of Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

**Hint of possible Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

[moonstruckloverwritings]

Yandere! Steve Rogers x Reader (general Headcanons)

Steve’s song about/to reader:

Completely obsessive, incredibly possessive, and sooo clingy.

So, first off, I think he would be a very black and white yandere.

What I mean by that is, he could either be your most beautiful daydream or your most terrifying nightmare. It really all depends on how much you behave.

I think at first he would try to date you normally but would also rush it or go overboard before you guys have gotten to a level that certain gestures are normal. Like getting you clothes, engraved jewelry, and like a build-a-bear at the first date level when those gifts would be seen as overbearing. Or downright creepy.

This might push you away on its own. And 100% would if you didn’t like him that way to begin with.

But if you did accept it and liked him back, you’re just digging your own metaphoric grave I’m gonna be honest. You give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. He would be completely comfortable with being married and in the process of having kids by the end of the year. The sooner the better in his eyes.

If you tried to let him down easy as in, you didn’t completely cut contact off, maybe stayed friends or colleagues, he would argue about it. “Why am I not enough? I’d do anything for you!” “What more could I do? I’ll do it!” He would get aggravated and try to convince you to change your mind. Wether nicely or.. loudly.

If you completely ditched out on him and tried to hide from or avoid him and his texts, he would find you. That’s it. That’s just how it would be. He would find you and you would learn to love him. He would kidnap you and have strict rules on what you could and couldn’t do.

He would spoil you while you were good but if you had been bad and broken rules, he would severely punish you. This is the first yandere I’ve written about that would actually put their hands on you in anger in some way. I could see him spanking you or if you kept pushing and made him mad enough, he might slap you out of anger. Slapping you would make him instantly feel guilt and regret and would be the only way he might regret his actions. Spanking though, doesn’t effect him emotionally because he would be one of those people that don’t see them as the same thing even though the only difference is location. And with him being a super soldier and having super strength.. it would hurt so much more.

Other punishments would be things more like stern or angry lectures, confinement until submission, and confiscating things you enjoy.

His rules are pretty strict as well. He would expect you to fall in line of the traditional “house wife”. You cook his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You clean the house. You pamper and fawn over him and his needs. And you will not complain, argue back at him, or fight against him in any scenario. If you do, you will immediately be punished. The severity of the broken rule will have a matching punishment of the same severity.

If you can expect anything out of him, expect him to be fair. If you brake a rule the punishment is matching in severity, if you’re the house wife then he will provide everything you want and need. He won’t punish you without cause. Etc.

He will pay for everything. Just ask and you’ll get it.

I may have painted him more as a dictator and that is accurate for one side of him as a yandere but he also has another softer side.

He is very clingy and very affectionate. He does love you in his own.. twisted way. Cuddling and kisses are very frequent in this relationship. He would love doing silly things that he missed out on too. Board games, fun karaoke, etc. he would love just spending time with you in general. Being around you and with you in anyway is his bliss. If you’re less lively and have more of a calmer personality, he’d love to read your favorite books to you. Or poetry if you like that. Hot cocoa, in front of the fire place with him rubbing your feet and you reading a good book while it snows outside. He is very attentive and loving if you let him show it.

He would be completely obsessed with you in ways like this. Always thinking of you when he’s away. Always worrying over you. Always touching you in some way like holding hands or his arm around you holding you close. When cuddling he is very much the type to nuzzle against your shoulder and just breathing you in. He lives to indulge in you. This is also why I picked the song I added to the post. He is absolutely obsessed with you.

“Just let me love you, darling.”

Authors note:

There’s many ways I could see a yandere Steve Rogers going so if anyone has any requests on scenarios, lmk!

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Future Plans

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: Steve has a desire to have a family and you’re no one to stop him. 

WARNINGS: Non-con; Implied Kidnapping; Forced Pregnancy. 

AN: First time writing non-con, so let me know how this is. This is a small gift for reaching 900 followers, thank you guys! Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

“No! Stop it!” you cry out but to no avail. Steve keeps fucking you against the matress with rough thrusts, his pelvis hitting your own in a painful way that makes you squeal.

You’re dry as a desert and it only makes your pain worse, his massive cock drilling your weak pussy. His hands hold down your wrists, his handsome face contorted with wicked pleasure as his sweat drips down to your face. 

The bed squeaks with every movement, continuously hitting the wall behind it. The tears keep wetting your face as you’re unable to control yourself. You hate him so much, you just want him to leave you alone. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m getting so close.” he groans, eyes rolling with satisfaction. Steve tries to kiss you, but you turn your head so his lips kiss your skin instead, sucking and spreading his disgusting saliva all over you. 

“I’m gonna give you a kid, how about that?” he grunts, moving a hand to grab your face, forcing you to stare at him. Horror fills every inch of your body, the little hope you had for yourself starting to disappear.

“No, no…” you regain energy as you strongly try to push Steve away from you. A child is the least thing you need right now.

He only chuckles, followed by a moan and he thrusts into you harder, eyes glinting with intense emotion. Lust, madness.

“You’re gonna be so heavy with my kid that you won’t be able to stand properly, much less run away. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. Fuck, yes.” Steve mutters, his thrusts getting more erratic and violent as he keeps talking. 

“I’ll always keep you pregnant, heavy and full of my babies. That’s going to be so nice, isn’t it?” tears keep running down your face and you’re not sure if it’s because of his aggressive way of fucking you or because of deranged his plans. 

He fucks you relenlessly until he suddenly halts, a loud moan escaping his lips as the buries his face on your face. Steve crashes down on top of you, his weight making it harder for you to breathe but he doesn’t seem to notice you trying to get away from him.

Instead, he kisses your neck and takes a deep breath, pushing his cock until you can’t take more of him. Some white cum drips down your pussy and down your thighs, the feeling is gross and you can’t wait to clean it all.

He seems to have read your mind because he hugs you, twisting your body so that you’re caged back into his arms, his cock still buried inside you. 

“No cleaning, babe, we gotta make sure it sticks. We should have a little one in nine months.” Steve declares, tilting his hips upwards, as he kisses the top of your sweaty head.

You close your eyes, hoping to wake up next morning and find out it’s all just a big nightmare. 

It’s not and in nine months, you find yourself holding a tiny baby as Steve fervoulsy kisses your forehead, thanking you for giving him such a beautiful bundle of joy. 

[reareaotaku]

Masterlist III | COMPLETED

Finished: June 7, 2024 [12:27 PM CDT] *= Slightly NSFW/NSFW Masterlist I Masterlist II Masterlist IV

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Mike Wheeler

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Lucas Sinclair

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Nancy Wheeler

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Robin Buckley

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Johnathan Byers

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IT

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Daniel Larusso

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Boris Pavlikovsky

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Matt Sturniolo

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Ben 10

Ben Tennyson

Yandere! Ben Tennyson Headcanons

Clone High

I Am Not a Clone Series

Where the Fuck am I? [Part 1]

Fear Street

Christine 'Ziggy' Berman

Christine 'Ziggy' Berman Headcanons

Nick Goode

Nick Goode Headcanons

Rick & Morty

Morty Smith

Morth Smith Headcanons Evil Morty Headcanons

Scooby Doo

Fred Jones

Fred Jones Headcanons Fred Jones Mystery Inc Headcanons

Hex Girls

We're the Hex Girls & We're Going to Put a Spell on You

Corpse Bride

Emily the Corpse Bride

Yandere! Emily Headcanons

Young Sheldon

Georgie Cooper

Georgie Cooper Headcanons

When You Finish Saving the World

Ziggy Katz

Yandere! Ziggy Katz Headcanons Jealous! Headcanons

We Are Who We Are

Fraser Wilson

Fraser Wilson Headcanons

Shazam

Freddy Freeman

Freddy Freeman Headcanons

Game of Thrones

Daenerys Targeryan

Male! Daenerys Targeryan Headcanons

Ghostbusters

Trevor Spengler

Jealous Headcanons

Don’t Tell a Soul

Joey

Joey Headcanons

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Rodrick Heffley

Crazy Party What if Rodrick was Jealous?

Wednesday

Wednesday Addams

I Don't Love You Singing my Love [Pt 2 of I Don't Love You] I Know You Got Issues & I Do Too [Male! Wednesday Addams] Male Wednesday Headcanons +drabble

Spiderman

Gwen Stacy

Gwen Stacy Headcanons

Scream

Stu Macher

Stu Macher Headcanons*

Batman

Dick 'Richard' Grayson

Save Me, Baby

Damian Wayne

Superboy vs Robin Damian Wayne Headcanons Love in High Places [Pt 2 of Superboy vs Robin]

Barbara 'Batgirl' Gordon

Barbara Gordon Headcanons

Tim 'Red Robin' Drake

Tim Drake Headcanons

Superman

Jon Kent

Superboy vs Robin Love in High Places [Pt 2 of Superboy vs Robin]

Clark 'Superman' Kent

Superman Headcanons

Lolirock

Iris

Genderbend Iris Headcanons

Shrek

Arthur Pendragon

Arthur Pendragon Headcanons

Kim Possible

Kim Possible

Schoolboy Crush

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Jessica Rabbit

Jessica Rabbit Headcanons

Mario

Princess Peach

Princess Peach Headcanons

Princess Rosalina

Princess Rosalina Headcanons

OC

Prince Alexander

Yandere Prince Headcanons

Ace

Grumpy x Sunshine Headcanons

Nightmare on Elm Street

Glen Lantz

Touch Me

That's Not My Neighbor

Francis 'Milkman' Mosses

Milkman Headcanons*

Goofy Movie/ An Extremely Goofy Movie

Max Goof

Max Goof Headcanons He was a Skater Boy

The Lion King

Kovu

Kovu Headcanons

Beetlejuice

Astrid Deetz

Astrid Deetz Headcanons

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

'Leo' Leonardo

Leonardo Headcanons

'Donnie' Donatello

I Do Not Like You

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

❗❗ HEY ❗❗ I SAUR YEW ADD BUCKY BARNES TO YOUR MLIST 🫵🫵🫵 YOU AINT SLICK ❗❗

anywayssss would you be willing to rank your comic book men on least to most willing to kill for their darling? i know we got your opinion on dick but i wanna see how it compares to everyone else

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋���…

!!! GN reader, mentions of death/murder, violence, breaking bones, intimidation, threats, manipulation, general mental issues, biochemical attack (how the fuck did we get here), mutilation, self-harm, can be translated as either romantic or platonic.

Help, why did the beginning of this ask trigger my fight or flight for 0.2 seconds, LMAO. I dropped my phone like I was caught red-handed or some shit.

So, I initially made an oath to not answer any more asks until I either finish Life With Older Brother IV or my secret side project, but then I got this ask and figured I could use a little creative break. I’m hitting some brick walls right now with all of my writing projects, sobs.

So!! Here we go. Remember, this is in the order of least to most likely in a general sense. Featuring some new faces because I’m finally confident in depicting their comic book counterparts, yippee!!

Jaime Reyes: Obviously, if the scarab had its way, anyone who poses as a threat to Jaime’s beloved would be neutralized. But we’re talking about Jaime. As long as he’s in full control, he’d probably do everything in his power to not kill anyone, even if it’s for you. He knows he’s fucked in the head. No matter how hard he tries to convince himself it’s still just the scarab preying on his anxieties, it’s getting harder and harder to distinguish Khaji Da’s thoughts from his own. This spiral into insanity around his own morality and guilt would have him cling oh-so desperately to the idea that he’s still a hero. To him, the no-kill role is the only way to know for sure he’s still (kind of) himself.

Bruce Wayne: He’s The Batman. Of course he doesn’t kill. Sure, he may be a bit more violent towards potential threats when it comes to you, but he still doesn’t kill. It’s a core belief that he’ll stick to for as long as evil lurks in the shadows of Gotham. Besides, why would he need to kill when cracking a few ribs gets the message across just fine? Most people don’t even want to fuck with him in the first place; both as Bruce Wayne and especially The Batman. In many cases, simple intimidation will do the trick. It’s much neater than violence. Though violence is definitely still on the table when he’s in a mood (Alfred, for the last time, he does not need a therapist. He’s perfectly functional).

Clark Kent: Whereas Batman doesn’t kill, Superman can’t kill. Meaning, Clark is well aware of the image he has to uphold as the ever-so hopeful Man of Tomorrow. Which is actually fine by him. Due to his strong sense of morals, the thought of blood on his hands makes him sick to his stomach. But there are some cases where that dark voice in the back of his mind whispers he could easily snap the neck of that weirdo talking to you. Of course, this is clearly just a strange intrusive thought, and he guiltily shakes it out of his head the moment it appears. He’s Superman, for heaven’s sake! He’s better than that! Stooping to that level is simply not an option. But you know what is an option? Gripping people hard enough that their bones shatter. Accidents do happen, after all…

Wally West: The chances of him killing are very slim. Believe it or not, he’s not against the idea or anything (only when it comes to you), it’s just he doesn’t see the need to get his hands dirty. There are enough tactics in his arsenal that the thought won’t even cross his mind. A silver tongue can work miracles on its own, and standing at 6 feet tall, Wally can be surprisingly intimidating in his own right. Should there be any threat agains you, he’s more focused on getting you out of harm’s way than beating the shit out of anyone (that comes later, away from your prying eyes). At worst, anyone who pushes their luck will get fractures and road rashes as a result. Killing just isn’t an impulse Wally has. But if it absolutely has to happen… well, wouldn’t that be a shame?

Dick Grayson: As mentioned before in a previous ask, killing is off the table. Dick’s still a hero, and heroes don’t kill. It’s just that he miiiight accidentally lose control if he sees you in a critical state. The ask goes into much deeper detail than this, but to sum it up, he would feel devastated afterwards but eventually justify it to himself. It was to protect you… if he didn’t do it, god only knows what would’ve happened. Otherwise, he’s not one to get his hands dirty like that. The most he’ll do is deliver a very ominous threat that doesn’t outright mean he’s going to kill anyone, but the implications aren’t very pretty. And, if he can help it, he’d rather if you’re not in earshot. Unless if he somehow sees it as a good manipulation tactic. Then sure, you can hear all about how he’s going to drown someone in their own bathroom.

Peter Parker: He has a strong aversion to killing. Now, is that an outright no? As much as he’d like to think so, there are situations where no-kill is optional. Most of them involve you being in active danger. While he doesn’t go out of his way to kill anyone, he sure as hell isn’t thinking about the survivability of his rampage to make sure you’re safe. Causalities would be collateral damage; unfortunate, but possibly necessary. He also has a habit of threatening people’s lives when he’s particularly pissed off. As long as you’re not in some sort of critical state, he usually doesn’t follow through with them (and may even feel guilty afterwards). That being said, hearing your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man deliver a cold one-liner about wanting someone dead is still hella scary.

Steve Rogers: Listen, it’s not at all what he wants. He wouldn’t advocate for murdering your problems away both with or without the shield. But sometimes — just sometimes — it’s necessary. Of course he’d kill someone that posed as a threat to your personal safety. That doesn’t make him a terrible person or anything; most people would do that for their loved ones. Where the line starts to blur, however, is when there isn’t any immediate danger. Does that weirdo who was looking at you for too long count? God— no, Rogers. What is wrong with you?! But… then again, there was this look in their eyes… something’s just so off about them. Ultimately, Steve wouldn’t go through with it, but the thought does cross his mind. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.

Hal Jordan: The answer is yes, but mostly because he’s a Lantern. Sometimes, neutralizing the threat is necessary. He would absolutely kill if it meant saving your life. Is it ideal? Absolutely not. Is it cathartic?… Lowkey. Hal’s not afraid to abuse his right as a Lantern to “neutralize the threat.” But keep in mind that this is a rare occurrence that depends on his mood. Really, he only considers it for situations you’re extremely distressed by, like some piece of shit giving you the creeps. He wouldn’t kill for his own personal gain, as much as he sometimes wants to; this is all about you, not him. I also don’t really see him having regrets. If he wants someone dead, he absolutely means it.

Remy LeBeau: It’s simple; if he’s gotta do it, he’s gotta do it. He’s got not moral hang-ups when it comes to killing. He doesn’t do it often, but he’s willing to clean up a mess or two if needed. The need to kill ranges from your personal safety to just not liking someone’s vibe. If that were the case, he’d give the poor sucker more than enough hints to leave you alone. Murder would be a last resort should they not listen; which is totally on them, by the way. Gambit can’t help it if they’re not the sharpest tool in the shed. Is kinetically charging someone’s car to explode not enough of a warning or something? Man, what is wrong with people these days…

Tim Drake: Okay. Tim is just so versatile. Yes, he’s absolutely morally opposed to killing. Yes, it’s a necessary evil. Yes, the thought of it makes him want to throw up. Yes, he’d do it in a heartbeat for you. Somehow, all of these thoughts coexist in his sick little head. What makes Tim a threat is the fact he’s extremely unstable. One day, he’s got himself in check; god, he would never kill anyone, why would he do that?! Then the next day, he seems to have a change of heart; if anyone even looks your way, he’s dumping anthrax in their cereal. His preferred method is something clean, but if he’s in a particularly bad mood, he may revert to some mutilation with his nails. On those particularly violent days, he’d much rather harm himself than others, but there is something cathartic about scratching at someone else while sobbing about minute problems. Though that’s one hell of a “did I do that” moment when it’s over.

Scott Summers: Yes. And he’ll fucking do it again, too. When it comes to you, this man has killed people by accident before. Did he give a shit? Absolutely not. Why would he care if someone doesn’t know how to protect their spinal column when taking a blow; especially if it’s someone who dared to lay a hand on you? And, yeah, he’s supposed to be a good role model for mutants all over the globe, but a good leader knows how to take calculated risks when needed. Your safety is his top priority, meaning he’ll do whatever he deems necessary to keep danger away. Man, is it just absolutely brutal watching someone’s skin melt away from the friction of one continuous optic blast. Who knew he could cave in skulls with that shit?

Bucky Barnes: Let’s be honest, is anyone surprised? Yeah, that’s what I thought. You could simply point to someone you hate and they’d be gone within the next 24 hours. Bucky isn’t here to fuck around. While he may regret any kills he was forced to carry out, he sure as hell doesn’t regret the ones he’s actively choosing to do. If anything, his conditioning has left him no other way to show his total devotion to you. Yes, this means you he leaves fresh human hearts at your doorstep. Yes, this means he strings up the remains of your annoying colleagues where you can see them outside. Yes, this means he watches you sleep while caked in blood and guts after every nightly kill. Some small part of him knows it’s wrong, but he really could not give less of a shit. So much for trying to reform him…

[yandere-wishes]

[highonmarvel]

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.

⍟

[taglist; @cjand10, @pr300877, fill out this form if you’d like to be added]

[yanderemcu]

Yandere Steve Rogers headcanoes-Captain Americas Obsession

Steve Rogers yandere headcanoes by Yanderemcu

*Steve is a switch

*Steve is an obsessive,possessive and protective yandere

*Steve's love language is acts of service

*Steve is 90% a yandere

*Steve uses hunny,sweetheart and beautiful as his pet names

*He's old fashioned

*Very protective,loving and caring

*Dancing every night

*CUDDLES

*Steve is very cuddly and clingy

*When you need comfort Steve whispers to you and rubs your back

*Steve wants 5 kids in the future

*You make the meals

*Steve is straight

*Steve waits 2 years until he proposes

*COZY SMALL LIFE

*Steve like the idea of dancing as his dream date

*Steve's favorite spot to kiss you is your face

*Steve uses spanking when he needs to punish you

*Steve uses his shield when he kills

Steve Rogers-"Your so perfect hunny."

[tryingtograspctrl]

SWEETENER: MARCUS BROOKS X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER

SUMMARY: Marcus always wanted a second opinion on his desserts and you were more than happy to be his critic as long as taste testing was involved, whether that be the pastries…. or him.

It was very early in the morning when you arrived at the restaurant, the warmth from the ovens smacking you in the face as soon as you opened the door.

You came in through the back, shimmying out of your coat and placing it in your locker alongside your bag.

"Morning chef." Tina greeted you from the other side of the kitchen.

"Morning." You shot her a smile, tying your apron around your waist.

You got to work prepping some veggies, your knife gliding through carrots like butter.

"Chef." Carmy gave you a nod as he rushed towards Sugar's office.

He always seemed to be on autopilot, the restaurant consuming every part of his being. You can't remember the last time he stopped to take a breath, you didn't know how he did it.

Sydney soon joined you in your prep work, her knife moving in sync with yours as you both chopped various meats and veggies.

"Y/n?"

You smiled almost instantly hearing Marcus's voice, no doubt calling you to taste test another one of his creations.

Marcus was one of the first friends you made when you came to the bear. You'd be lying if you said you weren't intimidated by him when you first met him, he was a big guy, but as the two of you got to know each other better you found that he was as soft as a teddy bear, a gentle giant.

"What ya got for me today honey?" You leaned over his workspace inspecting the dessert.

"Puff pastry filled with lemon meringue, a little icing drizzled on the top, nothing too fancy." He shrugged.

"Sounds yum." You quickly scooped it up taking a big bite.

"Mmm.” You squeezed your eyes shut, moaning as the flavor hit your tongue.

"Good?" He bit his lip.

"Great... but it's missing something." You sat the pastry down dusting the crumbs off your hands.

"Oh yeah? What?" He eyed you curiously.

"Just a tad bit more sugar." You explained.

"More sugar, got it." He reached for the container on the shelf.

You grabbed him by his apron, pulling him down to your level, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"That's it, it's perfect now." You whispered against his lips before heading towards the door.

You glanced back at him once more to find him frozen, clearly flustered by your actions. 

"Can't wait to try more chef." You winked before heading back to your work station.

He shook his head smiling to himself, fingers ghosting over his lips, still in disbelief that you had actually kissed him.

If this was his reward for making you treats he was gonna have to do it more often.

A/N - Just a short little blurb to keep y'all fed until i drop this new series, i've been into a lotttt of yandere fics lately so it's going to be heavily inspired by that genre. Get ready for slasher Steve rogers yall 🤭. Anyways i've said too much, enjoy this Marcus fic. I love that man he is my baby and he deserves appreciation too. Until next time my loves! 🌻

[hansensgirl]

summary | Your captor’s one wish is to get you to remember when he first saved you.

prompts. | Steve Rogers + Yandere + “You know what I hate more than broken promises? Liars.” + Kidnapping, requested by @vellicore.

pairing. | dark/yandere!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, kidnapping, mention of murder (not reader), captivity, delusion, lying, angry steve, steve and reader argue, pet names, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics. (i might turn this into a full fic... who knows!)

You stare outside the window, watching pigeons walk around, fighting over a piece of bread Steve threw for them this morning. 

The glass is bulletproof, and he even added vibranium bars, making sure you really don’t have a chance of escaping. 

“Honey? Are you at the door?” Steve asks, and you turn around. The dress you wear is something that tries to emulate a woman from his time. You can see the little opening he uses to communicate with you, a slider keeping it closed whenever it’s not in use. “No,” you force out, and he sighs.

He closes the opening, and you can hear him slamming about on the other side, undoing all the chains, locks, and bolts he uses to keep you locked up. Eventually, Steve enters the room with a cup of coffee, and you can tell it’s just the way you like it.

Your kidnapper sets it on your bedside table and shuts the door behind him, staring at you the entire time. “I was thinking we could talk… over coffee,” Steve says, gesturing to the cup he just brought. You fold your arms defensively and square your shoulders, trying to appear strong. 

Captain America just smiles at you affectionately. “You’re so cute, sweetheart.”

You sit down on your bed, and Steve joins you, sitting right next to you. You grimace and shift away from him as best as you can, and he frowns. 

“Don’t do that, honey. It’s not nice. You promised you’d be good,” he tells you, and you roll your eyes. “And I should be nice to you? Good for you?” you scoff. “Of course you should. After everything I’ve done for you,” Steve sighs, placing a large hand on your smaller one. 

“What have you done for me, hm? All I know is that you protect the world from bad guys, and I thank you for that, but you also kidnapped me!” you reason, voice getting louder with each word. Steve winces at your tone. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you, just like all those years ago.” He’s referred to that moment numerous times, but you swear to him that you don’t remember anything. Destruction has become a norm in your world—he’s just one saviour out of the many. 

“Sweetie, think hard. Remember when you were stuck in that building? And HYDRA agents were storming it?” he asks, trying to jog your memory. You hesitantly shake your head, and he sighs. Steve’s jaw clenches in anger, and you see something flash in his usually gentle but tired eyes.

“You know what I hate more than broken promises? Liars,” he seethes, standing up. “You don’t get it, do you? I love you—I love you so fucking much. I’ve killed for you. I’ve kept you safe,” he continues, standing up. Steve’s face is contorted in anger as he spits out each word. 

You have nothing to say to him, but you don’t appreciate the way he’s yelling—the way he kidnapped you and pretends everything is how it should be. 

“Fuck you, Steve. I could never love you. You’re a monster,” you retaliate, and he nearly growls. “A monster? A monster wouldn’t feel the way I do. A monster wouldn’t care for you this way,” Steve continues, and his chest puffs up.

“You’re right. A monster would let me go. They’re merciful. You’re much worse than that, Steve Rogers,” you say, and you turn your back to him. He lingers for a few moments before storming out. 

You can hear Steve putting on the locks and chains again, and then the slider opens. You’re sure he’s watching you, perhaps waiting for an apology, but that’ll never happen. 

Steve Rogers has you trapped in a nightmare, though he tells you it’s a dream. You don’t recall being locked up in your dreams, but you do recall the golden-haired man who saved your life, just as he said. 

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

A.N.: It's not as murdery as it sounds 😅 But, as per usual: minors DNI. It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen"--or something like that

1. Specialty Ingredients

Steve watches, mouth literally hanging open, as it happens again: his date is stomping away, mad.

He just called Steve a scrawny, cock-teasing twink for making out a little on the sidewalk, but then declining to go back to his place to hook up. The guy pressed the issue and Steve got frustrated and told him tersely that he wasn't interested because they just met, okay? That went over like a lead balloon.

Steve scowls as the jerk disappears around the corner at the end of the block. “Well fuck you too,” he mutters, feeling put out—and okay, a little hurt, too. He’s not a cocktease. He’s not scrawny.

Well, maybe that second one is kind of true, but Steve hates how guys will act like they’re into his small stature when they think he’s a sure thing, but then get all derogatory and mean about it once he tries to tell them he’s looking for more than a hookup and wants to take it slow—and not even hetero people slow; gay guy slow, which is super fast in comparison! Steve just wants to get to know a guy for once before sleeping with him. Is that really so bad?

He huffs and turns around, walking dejectedly back to his car. Another handsome asshole, another hope dashed, another pathetic date. He really does have the worst luck, and he’s getting plain sick of it. He checks his phone before he drives away.

Clint: Well???

Steve sighs. He types back a reply to his friend

Steve: another dud

Clint: dude …

Steve rolls his eyes and chucks the phone onto the passenger seat. He turns the key in the ignition, the radio coming on to an old eighties love ballad that just worsens his sense of dejection. “Fucking figures,” he mutters, putting the car into drive.

He leaves the song playing though, because sometimes wallowing is called for.

The next morning, Steve wakes up in a glum mood. He tries to focus on his work for most of the day, rather than his horrible luck with dating, but as he paints the hours away he winds up pouting about it anyhow. He sinks further and further into a depressing pit of self-pity and despair.

Clint texts him, asking if he wants to go out and sing karaoke or something, and Steve knows he’s just trying to cheer him up and all, but he really can’t stand the thought of being cheerful right now.

Steve hates gay guys, he thinks, stomping over to the crappy small sink in his crappy small apartment’s kitchen. He runs the water and rinses off his brushes with a vengeance they don’t deserve. Gay guys suck. Steve hates how shallow they all are, how vapid and self-centered. All they want is to go clubbing and fuck around and that’s it. None of them want a real relationship, and they think Steve is boring for wanting to have a meaningful conversation instead of suck their dicks right away. He gets grumpier about it the more he thinks, and he even has the thought that at least if he were straight he could find someone with feelings, a desire for genuine connection. “Gay guys suck,” he mutters to his poor, abused paint brushes.

Nevermind that Steve himself is incontrovertibly homosexual and has no choice in the matter of what his dating pool consists of. After all: ‘Haters gonna hate, players gonna play’. “Gaays gonna gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.” Steve sings the tune under his breath. He just hates it, hates it all. He’s sick and tired of playing the game.

He sends Natalie a nastily self-deprecating text:

Steve: Know any of your girlfriends who might want to date a faggot?

It’s not nice, and he knows she won’t like him using that word in that context.

Natalie Potential Rich!! Buyer: another douche huh?

He sighs and texts back an apology with a huggy emoji.

Steve: Sorry 🤗 Just frustrated. All the good ones are taken and I’m not interested in the skanks who’re left over.

Natalie responds with the “Give that man a Snickers” Diva-meme, which makes Steve realize that he is, in fact, hungry. He needs to get something to eat. He needs to focus on himself for a change. Maybe it’s finally time to stop looking for Mr. Right and just enjoy Steve Rogers. Maybe he should join a gym, start a new hobby, anything to fill up his time with himself rather than another person. 

He goes into the kitchen, thinking that he’ll make something yummy and binge watch a new series off his Netflix list, but scowls at the barren interior that greets him when he opens the fridge door. Nothing good to eat. “Fuck,” he mutters. He’s got to go to the grocery store now before he can sit down with a meal and relax.

And it’s raining outside, too. Just his fucking luck.

His phone ‘pings’ and he looks over at where he’d set it on the counter. The screen is lit up with a new notification from Grindr:

Henry super liked you!

He picks up the phone and opens the app. Henry’s profile pic is only from the neck down, showing off his abs. Steve rolls his eyes. The next picture is his lower half, a pair of tighty-whities stretched over his erection making it lewd, but still within the app’s no dick pic rules. The third pic is of his bare ass in a jockstrap.

Steve spends a second more than he intends appreciating the guy’s backside, but then he growls and jabs his finger at the screen to reject the guy. He’s fucking fed up with this entire thing! On a sudden, right-feeling whim, he exits the app and holds his finger down on the screen until all the icons start wiggling with their little x’s. He quickly proceeds to delete Grindr, Scruff, and Hornet from his phone.

He’s fucking done with dating. He’s giving up. Steve is just not meant to find Mr. Right. Not this year, anyway. He feels lighter after deleting the apps, and he slides his unburdened phone into his pocket with a sense of accomplishment and a shiny new idea: He’s not going to date for a whole year. He’s going to make this The Year of Steve.

Fuck yeah.

He goes to the hall closet to grab his umbrella and rain boots.

The walk to FreshMart is only four blocks from his apartment, but he still arrives at the grocery store a little damp from the gusting rain. He shakes off his umbrella by the door, grabs a basket, and directs himself towards the produce aisle. He’s added fingerling potatoes and some asparagus spears to his basket, and has just started perusing the meat section when he hears a man’s voice say, 

“Hey, have you ever had this?”

Steve looks over. The guy is holding up a package of bloody red … something. Steve blinks. “Um …”

The stranger twists his lips and shakes his head, looking at the meat. “It’s venison. I thought I’d freak my sister out with something a little different.”

“Your sister?” Steve asks, feeling very odd at being asked his opinion in the middle of the meat department. He looks between the package of raw meat and the stranger—He’s unusually handsome, tall and strong-jawed, brown hair styled in an effortlessly flattering cut. Steve licks his lips nervously. “Um, isn’t that like, deer meat?” He takes a step closer to peer down at the label. “Huh.” He didn’t know regular grocery stores sold that kind of thing. “That’s … exotic,” he says, for lack of a better word.

The stranger chuckles. “Yeah, well. I actually don’t eat animals, so …” he shrugs. “But her and her husband and kids are total carnivores. Thought I’d bring something other than my usual bottle of wine.”

“Oh.” Steve peers up at the man, trying to figure him out. The man smiles sheepishly and Steve winds up smiling, charmed, if somewhat baffled. He looks the man in the eyes and is taken by how pretty they are, how intense. Damn he’s good looking. “Well I, ah, couldn’t tell you what it tastes like. I’ve never had it.” He makes a face. “Like I said, it’s exotic.”

“Oh I love to cook with exotic ingredients. I’m kind of an amateur cuisinier. Or at least I try to be.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve gestures to the blood package. “But you ah … you don’t cook only vegetarian stuff?”

The man grins (and shoot, he’s got an unfairly attractive smile, too). “I guess I just like to satisfy other people’s appetites,” he says, lips parted enticingly. And then his tongue darts out in this totally casual, should-be-illegal sort of way. “I take it you’re a meat eater,” he says knowingly.

Is that a double entendre? Steve thinks it might be a double entendre. Yes! he wants to scream. Yes! He is 1000% a meat eater. He gulps as the guy’s eyes flick down and back up his body in a heated onceover, and Steve may not always be the brightest bulb in the box, but he can tell when he’s being considered. Is this guy really flirting with him? Here? In the freaking grocery store? Is that even a real thing that happens, anymore? Steve flushes and pulls his shopping basket up higher in front of himself, like a shield. “I–I see,” he stammers. “Well … um … yeah.” God, he’s hopeless.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Venison’ll probably be … different.” He nods at the stranger, awkward and aware that the other man isn’t moving away. “Well. Good luck.” He turns and vacantly peruses the meats, pretending that he’s more invested in searching out the perfect porkchop than he really is. He hears the guy’s footsteps moving away.

“Fuck it,” the man says, and turns right back around. He takes a deep breath. “I like your boots.”

“What?”

The guy nods downwards. “Your rain boots. They’re really cute.”

Steve looks down at his feet. His rubber boots are pink and printed with the golden girls’ faces. He looks back up at the stranger, stunned. No straight guy on planet Earth would ever say such a thing. “Um. Thanks.”

The guy holds out his hand, friendly, like he’s not aware he’s acting weird as shit. “I’m James.”

Steve probably stares too long at the offered hand, before he hurries to shove the handles of his shopping basket up onto his one arm so that he can take the guy’s—James’—hand and shake it. It’s pleasantly large over his own hand. “Steve.”

James smiles. He’s arrestingly handsome when he doesn’t smile and Steve feels like an even weaker creature when he does. “Sorry,” James says, looking down shyly. “I uh, I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” Steve asks, keenly aware that he may just be about to be propositioned. He winces at the idea of having to turn down another good-looking jerk.

James tilts his head. “Would you …” He hesitates, eyes flicking up and over as a woman passes them. She turns and goes down the soda aisle. He looks back to Steve, distracted. “I was gonna be crazy and ask for your number,” he says, flushing. Steve doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before James is scrubbing his hand over his embarrassed face. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re probably not even—” He looks back to the soda aisle where the woman had gone. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, and starts to walk away. “Human disaster in the meat aisle. Just ignore me, please.”

“Wait!” Steve blurts. James turns back around. “Why do you want my number? Were you gonna ask me out? Like on a date?” He uses the word purposefully.

“Well, yeah.” James looks apologetic. “Sorry. I know it’s weird.”

It is weird. But Steve is kind of charmed by the guy’s odd methods. He promptly pushes away his resolution of The Year of Steve. “James,” he says, taking a step closer. “Um, you can. Have my number.” He peeks up at him shyly. “If you want.”

James' happy-surprised-enthused smile is the best one yet. They exchange numbers.

Clint: Wait, wat do you mean, the grocery store??

Steve: he came over and just started talking to me.

Clint: … that’s weird, man. That’s shady.

Steve: actually it was kind of cute. Kind of idk old fashioned.

Clint: Kind of weird. Whats his Insta?

Steve doesn’t hear from James for almost three days. He alternates between finding it refreshing, and being disappointed. Maybe Clint’s right. Maybe the guy was just a weirdo.

Then, on the third day, Steve is leaving from his morning shift at Michaels when he hears his phone ‘ping’ with a notification. When he sees the name “Weird Meat Guy” on the screen, his face splits in a grin.

Weird Meat Guy: Been thinking about you since the other day.

Happy butterflies come to life in Steve’s stomach at the flirtatious tone of the text. His first instinct is to force himself to ignore it for at least thirty minutes, so that he doesn’t seem overeager. But then he thinks, fuck it, just like James had said in the grocery store before turning right back around to ask him out.

Steve types a reply.

Steve: hey stranger. Yeah I was wondering how that venison worked out for you. 😂What’s it taste like?

Weird Meat Guy: I don’t eat animals, not even for my sister’s Sunday dinners. But she said it was fine. Not as good as regular old cow, though🐄🥩

Steve: not surprising.

There’s a bit of a pause where he can see James is typing and deleting and typing again. Then,

Weird Meat Guy: Do you want to go out tonight? We could grab drinks or something?

Steve bites his lip, bad memories of “casual” meetups and “just grabbing drinks” dates and what they’ve always led to, in the past.

Steve: let’s go out to eat. At a restaurant or something. A real date.

James texts back almost immediately, and his answer makes Steve beam like a fool.

Weird Meat Guy: Hell yeah. What’s your favorite kind of food?

Steve can’t help it; he has a good-verging-on-great feeling about this guy. He tries to tuck away his expectations that this time it’ll be different. He can still do The Year of Steve if or when this goes wrong. He’ll just try this one last time though. Just once more before he swears off being a “meat eater” for the year.

He tells James that he really likes Italian food, and the next thing he knows, James is sending him the link to a really nice and expensive Italian place in Brooklyn. Steve thrills at James' enthusiasm, and grimaces at the three dollar signs that Google has lined up beside the restaurant’s name.

He tells James okay, figures he’ll just tighten up his budget a bit for a few weeks after.

James meets him inside the restaurant, at the bar. He’s already got a drink in his hand. “It’s an old fashioned,” he tells him sheepishly. “Sorry to start without you.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I just get a little nervous when I ask a cute guy out to dinner.”

Steve freezes, but then his mouth twitches. “Oh,” he says. “You, ah … you think I’m cute, huh?”

James grins and winks at him in a way that is devastating and should-not-be-allowed. “Yeah. I sure do.”

Steve is charmed.

The hostess seats them in a dark and cozy booth in the back of the restaurant. Steve settles in and looks around, impressed. “This is a really nice place,” he says, genuinely meaning it but also kind of anxious to open his menu and get a look at whatever prices garnered a $$$ on Google.

“Yeah it’s one of my favorites.” James is grinning at him from across the table. “I was so glad you picked Italian, cause then I knew I had the perfect place to bring you.”

Bring you. Steve looks down and tries not to smile too obviously at the words. “I like it so far,” he says, peeking up coyly at James so that he knows Steve doesn’t just mean the restaurant.

James seems to get it, if his expression is anything to go by.

They open their menus and Steve’s stomach drops at the forty dollar appetizers. Shit. He wishes he’d found a way to mention to James that he’s kind of a starving artist.

“Do you like mushrooms?” James asks, oblivious to Steve’s internal panic. He’s looking across the table at him with eager eyes. “They’ve got the best stuffed mushrooms I’ve ever had. I think they put crack in ‘em.”

Steve laughs despite himself, then decides ‘fuck it’ once again, and closes his menu with a nod. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s do it.” He’ll live frugally for a month if he has to.

James orders them the appetizer and an entire bottle of wine that he knows by its specific name and year. All Steve makes out is the “‘94 ” part of it, and his heart rate picks up. He’s about to really worry about how the hell much a place like this is going to charge for an entire bottle of wine that’s older than he is, but then when the server delivers it and pours for them, James shoots him a wink and tells him, “S’my treat.”

Oh. Steve’s heart flutters as much at the gentlemanly gesture as it does at the possibility that maybe James will pay for the whole meal. A guy can dream.

The mushrooms arrive and Steve gushes to James about how he was right: they are amazing. They get to talking, covering the standard ‘first date’ questions, and it’s stupid and awkward like it always is; but also it isn’t, because James seems to laugh about the awkwardness of it, too. And that makes it kind of fun.

James is thirty-seven to Steve’s twenty-seven (Daddy kink: activated). He has a place in Manhattan but his sister lives in Brooklyn, which is why he was shopping at the FreshMart in Steve’s neck of the woods the other day. He’s got one parent still living, grew up with a loving family but “pretty poor” in Jersey. He hasn’t been in a relationship or even been on a date in “a really long time.” He wants to travel more but he lets his work consume him too much. He doesn’t eat animals.

He’s also really good at making the whole first-date interrogation-phase go smoothly. It’s fun with him, Steve realizes, not awful and strained like it usually would be. Their conversation just seems to flow naturally and easily, both of them smiling almost continually as they chat and joke.

Steve is utterly charmed.

“Okay,” James says, as he pops another mushroom into his mouth and then talks around it. “I’ll do another boring one: what do you do for work?”

Steve gulps and delays answering by taking a sip of the wine—a red that downright tastes expensive. “Um, well my passion is my art. It’s what I went to school for.” He tucks his lips in and shrugs. “But, ya know, ‘starving artists,’ and all that. So I work part time at Michaels, too.”

James doesn’t look like he’s thinking that Steve’s a stereotype or a loser or anything like that. “That’s awesome!” he says, sounding like he genuinely means it. “What kind of art? Or like, what medium do you work with?”

Steve blinks. Nobody ever asks him good questions like this, like they actually care and want to dig deeper into who he really is. “Um, mostly acrylics. Some watercolors and pencil-charcoal sketching,” he says, flustering at the way that James pays such close attention to his answers. “I like to mix it up sometimes, but mostly it’s those three.” He shrugs. “I sell online. I have one really loyal patron—she keeps me afloat. S’nothing that special.”

“Sounds like you know your stuff,” James counters, not letting him insist on his own mediocrity. “If you went to school for it and all, then you must be pretty good. Don’t you have to, like, audition for art school?”

Steve blushes and looks away. “Well. Yeah.”

“And I bet you get all your supplies cheap with the side gig, huh?”

Steve stares at him. “Yeah,” he says, impressed. “Employee discount.”

James nods sagely, as if he’s ever had to worry in his life about the utility of an employee discount. He might’ve grown up poor, but he’s clearly well-off now. Steve can tell that the suit he’s wearing is a custom tailored deal, and the wine he’s ordered for the table has a bouquet of oak and dollar bills. “I think it’s really brave of you,” he’s telling Steve, looking like he admires him or something ridiculous like that. “That you’re following a passion like that? That you can just …” he makes a shaping gesture over the table with his hands, “make something with your own two hands and then sell it? That’s incredible.”

The more James talks, the more Steve gets his hopes up that he might actually be A Really Great Guy™️. Steve can hardly stand to take all the compliments, so he turns the question back around on James: “What about you? What do you do for work?”

James hesitates. “... I’m a surgeon.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, making him look like A Gold Digger™️, probably. He closes his mouth. “Oh. Wow, that’s … that’s neat. Medical school, then, huh?”

James smiles through a wince, as if being a freaking doctor is no big deal. “Yeah. It was rough for a few years, but I got through it. I’m in a good place now. It’s pretty smooth sailing.”

“So do you work at like a hospital or something?”

“Not exactly.” He stares at him for a long moment, then suddenly says, “Gosh, I’m just really attracted to you, Steve.” Steve blinks, taken-aback. He reaches for a hurried sip of his wine and tries to think of a response to the weird shift in conversation. “Sorry,” James hurries. “I just felt like I had to say it.” He gives Steve a tender look rather than a lecherous one, which is a welcome change from the usual script. “I think I might really like you.”

Steve flusters and averts his eyes to the tabletop, peeking back up at James a few times. The guy is totally focused on him. It’s intimidating, but not in a bad way. “Yeah,” Steve eventually manages to murmur. “Yeah I think you might be nice.”

James teases him about the ��nice’, and they fall into easy banter again as they finish the mushrooms and open up their menus to choose their entrees. Steve’s once again fixated on the prices, and he immediately starts trying to see if there’s anything under sixty dollars …

“By the way,” James says casually, not looking up from where he’s reading his menu. “I know this place is fucking ridiculous: I got it covered.”

He says it all easy and nonchalant, like it’s no big deal that he’s treating Steve to what’s probably a three hundred dollar dinner, and Steve once again feels like he’s on a date with a hero, a real gentleman. “Kay,” he says smally, feeling delighted and hopeful as heck on the inside. 

He orders a seafood linguini, and James gets a spinach and cheese tortellini dish. “This is so good,” Steve practically moans around a mouthful of his food. 

James makes a noise of agreement, stuffing another tortellini shell in his mouth. “Mmph.”

“So you really don’t eat any meat?” Steve winds up asking. “Like, not even fish or chicken or anything?” Where does he get his protein? James looks like he keeps in good shape …

James chuckles. “Nope. Haven’t touched the stuff for … gosh, almost fifteen years.”

“Wow.” Steve spears up another shrimp from his pasta and wonders if it offends James. “So like, is it an ethical thing or just …”

“No, no. I just kind of had this epiphany one day—while I was tenderizing a thigh, mind you—that all the things I was eating were living creatures, that we’re animals just like they are.” He makes a thoughtful face as he considers it. “It’s not a moral viewpoint so much as it is a …” he trails off and his eyes return to Steve with an apologetic shrug. “I dunno. My viewpoint shifted that day. Couldn’t shift it back. I’ve tried so many other things now, animal meat just doesn’t taste the same anymore.”

“I can respect that.” Steve wiggles his fork that’s speared with a juicy scallop. “As long as you don’t mind this.” 

“No, no way. Don’t you remember where we met?”

Steve snickers. “Oh yeah, how could I forget. What was it you said? You like to ‘satisfy other people’s appetites’?” He chances a flirty look across the table. “Wasn’t that how you put it?”

James chews, smirking, and he winks at Steve again. Goddamn. “Yeah,” he says lowly. “Yeah. I sure do.”

On the sidewalk outside the restaurant they stand close together, bundled in their jackets. Neither one of them seems to want to leave. “Thanks again,” Steve says. “For dinner. It was really nice.”

“My pleasure.” James takes a step closer, so that they’re almost toe to toe. “I was so excited to go out with you,” he says. He brings a hand up and traces the side of Steve’s face with the backs of his fingers, not looking at Steve’s eyes but rather where he’s touching his cheek. “You’re different,” he murmurs. "And I knew it the moment I met you."

Wow, what a fucking intense thing to say. Steve … doesn’t hate it. “I am?” he whispers, watching his breath swirl on the air between their faces.

“Mmhm. I can tell.” 

Steve shivers and fights the urge to press into James’ touch on his cheek. It feels unduly intimate, and they’re already so close. “I was excited for tonight, too,” he confides. “I’ve had a lot of bad luck with dating. Was getting sick of trying, to be honest.”

“But?” James asks softly, and Steve looks up at him, for once feeling open and honest enough to just admit,

“But I didn’t meet you on some app. And you liked my stupid Golden Girls boots.” James chuckles and Steve looks up, taking in his face up close: the dimple in his chin, the creases of age that’ve barely begun to collect at the corners of his eyes, that one tiny patch of grey in his beard. It makes him all the more insufferably handsome. “And you’re charming,” he whispers. “So there’s that.”

James smiles softly. “Aw, shucks.”

“I think you’re a really nice guy, James. I’d like to see you again.”

James' smile widens hopefully. “Yeah?” he says, leaning even closer.

“Yeah. I think, well … I just think …”

“What?” James touches his face again, this time palming his cheek. “Tell me.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’.” Steve finally lets his eyes slip closed, enjoying the feeling of James’ hand on his skin, the cologne he gets a whiff of when they’re standing this close. “You smell nice.”

“Thank you. Still haven’t told me what you were gonna say.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Oh, I’m just getting my hopes up about you, is all.” He’s still got his eyes closed when James kisses him. He inhales sharply through his nose, surprised. But he doesn’t pull away, and they just … keep kissing.

Eventually James cups his face with both hands and Steve moans, because the way James is kissing him feels so natural and good. He feels like he can taste James' good intentions as they make out softly, right there on the sidewalk.

When they part they’re both panting a little, heavy-lidded eyes flicking over one another, gauging, desire tinged with uncertainty. “That was …” James breathes.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and they both stare at each other for another long moment, before Steve says, “Fuck it,” and surges in to grab James by his jacket and kiss him again, this time harder. James whimpers needily into his mouth, and heat shoots through Steve’s belly at hearing it, arousal flaring to life faster than he can handle. Suddenly his pants feel a little tight, and he wants James so badly he can hardly stand it. “Oh man,” he groans, pulling away from the kiss, grimacing at himself for what he’s about to say. “I really, really never do this,” he promises against James' lips. “But … Do you want to go back to my place?”

James' eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

They kiss eagerly one more time and then hurry off, giddy, hands clasped, and headed in the direction where James says he’s parked his car.

Masterlist

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[mrsdarkandyandere7]

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”