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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Mr. & Mrs. Stark

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, kidnapping, anal, oral, fear, manipulation, cheating, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Your life is turned upside down. First by Tony Stark. Then Steve Rogers.

Characters: Stony x reader

Note: This if for I love you 3000 dark writing challenge 2022 . I chose Stony with the basement wife trope. This is my first time doing Stony and only my second full length Tony fic.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Mother Goose loves being a goose? Take care. 💖

[Italics are flashbacks]

Tick, tick, tick.

The wall stares back at you, your only companion as a hint of cleaner lingers, tickling your nose with artificial lilac. Your hands curve around the porcelain, the tea lukewarm in your neglect. All is as it should be. The kitchen is quiet and empty, every counter shining, every tile mopped and stringent.

You blow out between your lips as that urgent flutter rises in your chest. That feeling that never goes away. Anticipation, rather anxiety. Revery, rather, regret. How did you get here?

Stark Tower was eerie after hours but you often found comfort in the late nights. Forgotten in the lower floors to sort through the endless cycle of files and memos, there’s a peace that nestles deep in the heart of the bustling corporation. The shuffle of paper, the rustle of pages landed in the bin, others sent off in tubes. For a company known for innovation, the system was antiquated.

You capped another container and sent it up. The work kept your hands busy, your mind distracted. Menial work, nothing like those on the top floors. The suits and the heroes. Among the excitement of the next new Stark invention was the boss himself and his team of avengers. A tier unreachable to any other.

You were happy in your little nook. Your place. Where you belonged. It wasn’t much but you made enough for rent, you had insurance, and a few perks that made the day tolerable. You reached for your forgotten coffee and took a bitter swig. It was cold and stale, but it was free.

Tick, tick, tick.

You blink at the clock and look down at your tea. The subtle amber hue of steeped herbs. You stand up, the scrape of the chair’s feet blasphemous in the silence. Your heels click across the floor and you dump the tea down the sink, rinsing the residue with the faucet. You watch the water swirl down, a small cyclone draining into the pipes.

You put the mug aside and close your eyes. You hang your head as you clutch the edge of the sink and shudder. The sterile air is cold and unwelcoming. You can never settle. Not here.

You rose and cursed at the brim of your cup. Your hips ached from your awkward perch on the high stool as you sorted. The nights often saw you waddling off with a stiff back and cramped legs. You groaned as you rubbed your lower back and elbowed through the door into the hall.

You poured the coffee into the water fountain just outside and pushed down the knob to wash away the remnants. You dropped the empty cup in the bin against the far wall with a hollow thwop and pushed your neck back with a sigh. Your shoulders were knotted, tugging on one another each time you moved.

There was an echo of your footstep as you shuffled back to the mailroom. You paused and looked down the hall. The lighting is pale and painful as it stings your tired eyes. Night shift always had that sobering effect, the hyper awareness that chiseled away at your sanity. You shake your head and pull open the door, dipping back into the room laced with the scent of paper.

You drag your hand blindly across the counter and retrieve the mug, giving it a proper scrub before drying it and placing it in the perfect line of cups in the cupboard. You shut the door and back up, turning to face the purgatory of your existence. The static raises goosebumps on your skin.

You cross the room and look into the next. The plush couch, the large TV, the luxurious carpet, a wall of windows that almost seem real. It’s a dream, the home everyone would love. Everyone but you.

You walk around the couch and near the wall that looks out onto the city skyline. That gives the illusion of a high rise. You touch the LCD and shake your head. A dystopian simulation stands all around you. A cell made to look like paradise.

It was 4am. Actually, twenty minutes past. You’d lost track of time but wouldn’t clock the extra minutes. You just wanted to go home and fall into bed. A hot shower sounded nice but you didn’t have the energy for that.

You locked the mailroom behind you and spun to face the hall. That noise. That echo, just a second off the scuff of your sole. You looked down at your black sneakers, the fifteen dollar pair that would wear through in a few months. The flat inline that did nothing for your pain.

You took a breath and looked both ways down the hall before you set off down your usual route. The subway was empty around this time of day, the closest ramp sat behind Stark Tower. You wound down the twists and turns of the basement towards the rear exit.

Before you turned the corner, you heard a click, the gentle touch of metal on metal. You slowed as you peeked around and found nothing but the heavy door that led to the concrete stairwell. Sometimes the janitor was around, starting their shift, but you didn’t see their cart or any signs of cleaning.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes as your knapsack dangled from your right shoulder. You were tired, you were hearing things. You pushed through the door, the noise echoed up the floors above. Your shoes squeaked as you crossed the cracked floor, neglected for the upper tiers of the tower. Your foot never met the first step.

“Honey, I’m home,” Tony’s voice draws you back from the live stream of the cityscape. You back away and quickly go to meet him, forcing a laugh at his oft repeated joke.

You stand at the end of the hallway as you watch him. He grunts as he rolls his shoulders and smiles as he sees you. You rush forward to help him out of his suit jacket. He stops you before you can hang it and kisses your cheek, “honey, you okay?”

“Yes, sir,” you say as you turn and sling his jacket on the coat rack, “I just finished tidying up.”

“Ah,” he taps your ass softly, “good girl.”

You step away and fold your hands compliantly. He sits on the bench with the shelf of shoes below. You get to your knees and slip off his loafers, inserting them into the empty space beneath. He catches your chin as you sit back on your heels and makes you look at him.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he strokes your chin with his thumb, “you look tired.”

“Oh, I…” you touch your cheeks and shy away, “I forgot to–”

“No, I don’t mind,” he grabs your jaw more firmly before you can pull away, “a natural beauty.”

“Thank you, sir,” you swallow.

“Baby, tonight is not about me, it’s about you.”

You blink. Your chest twinges. You know that’s never true. You stare and wait for his trick to unfold.

“Shhh, baby, please, it’s okay,” the voice tickled the shell of your ear as you writhed in his grasp, “don’t fight it. It only makes it worse–”

You clawed at the tails of his jacket as your feet hit the floor helplessly. You saw the odd bracelet beneath his sleeve and the sudden cloud of blue smoke that puffed from it. It seeped into your nose and flooded your head, eyes itchy and mouth dry as you were forced to inhale the mist.

“Alright, it’s okay,” he kept his arm around your neck as he pet your head, easing you down to the floor as your body went limp, “just go to sleep. Shhhh, it’s alright.”

“Me?” You wonder as you bat your lashes. He drags his hand up to your cheek and gives a playful tap.

“Baby, go draw yourself a bath and relax,” he purrs as you remain kneeling between his knees, “as much as I love to see you in this position, you earned it.”

“Sir,” you breathe.

He offers his hand and you take it, cautious. He stands and pulls you up with him. His other hand crawls down your side and he hums as he eyes your dress.

“Can you believe it? One year. One whole year.”

You blanch and touch his hand as he squeezes your side. You nearly stagger at the revelation.

Tick, tick, tick. You hear the clock in the kitchen. How many hours, how many days, how many months. Not knowing is easier. You inhale deeply and let your hand trail up his arm, resisting the urge to shove him away.

“Happy anniversary,” you eke out, you know what he wants. He’s taught you exactly what to say.

“Aw, baby, happy anniversary,” he pulls you against him and crushes his lips against yours. He kisses you roughly, the trim along his chin tickles, as his warmth consumes you.

You woke up in darkness. Pitch black. You couldn’t see your own fingers as you waved them in front of your face. Naked but for the light weight around your neck. The panic quickly began to bloom.

“Baby, you’re awake,” the bodiless voice cooed, “ah, ah,” he tutted as you tried to sit up, only to fall back dizzily, “don’t go making too much fuss. You gotta give it time.”

“Wh–wh–” Where are you? What happened? You can’t put it into words as you’re paralysed by the throbbing in your head.

“One thing at a time, baby. This is level one.”

Level one, you blinked. Confused in the fog of your brain, the blackness, the voice that seemed to come from all around you.

“Level two is easier, but one is more fun,” he chuckled, “so baby, let’s start easy–”

“Who are you?” You whimpered as your body shook with the effort to sit up.

“Ah, I was about to get to that,” he taunted, “now, baby, don’t get so worked up. Your heart is pumping so hard, you’re gonna knock yourself out.”

“Please–”

“Baby, I’m warning you, it’s easy if you listen,” he dragged out the last word to a growl. “You can call me–”

“I’m scared,” your chest thumped hard as your ears rang, “please–”

Your muscles constricted suddenly and you crumpled onto the ground, prostrated on your back as the surge stretched every nerve to its limit.

“Baby, don’t make me do that again,” he warned as the tension slaked away and left you panting weakly, “for now, you will call me ‘sir’.”

The bathing pool stands against the wall, a great basin of steamy water, scented with rose as you dip into the depths. The heat should be relaxing but you can’t even remember what it feels like to relax. You lean against the wall and pull your knees up, bending your arms over your legs as you sit alone.

Tony surprises you as he appears, a bottle in one hand, two glasses balanced in the other. He puts them down on the tile that edges the tub and uncorks the bottle, a swell of foam rising over the top as he holds it away from him. He pours a full glass for both of you.

“Baby,” he lifts one and holds it out.

You push through the water to take it, “thank you, sir.”

You retreat and stare at the bubbly golden nectar. You were never a drinker but he never afforded you the indulgence. Maybe he’d allow you enough to forget. Or at least, accept.

“Thank you, baby,” he winks and peeks beneath the surface of the water, “you’re a sweet little thing.”

You smile, it’s brittle and painful as it dimples your cheek.

“Go on, have a drink, don’t wait on me,” he bids as he pulls free his tie, “we got all night.”

You carefully put the flute to your lips and daintily taste the wine. It’s sweet and sour at once. You nearly choke as you swallow it down. You drink deeper as the heat spreads through your chest.

You quivered and whined as another vibe rose from within. You don’t understand. It was hours of this. You reached searchingly down and still nothing. No, just your body. What was happening to you?

You felt along your cunt, dripping with your cum as a vibration pulses from within. You whimpered as you grazed your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensation. You hissed and poked your fingers inside, prodding, pushing as you tried to find the source. Still, you come up empty.

You rolled onto your back and cried out as you came again, body contorting with the raging tide of your climax. Your fingers curled into your palms and your toes bent until they would break. You gulped down air desperately, your head spinning as the rippling continued to course through you.

“Baby, you’re doing so good,” his voice taunted from the unseen speaker, “so good but you keep touching yourself, and I won’t be so generous.”

Tony slides up next to you, stretching his arm over your shoulders as he sits snugly against you. He clinks your glass with his and sips, his dark eyes clinging to you. You drink too and finish the last mouthful.

“Thirsty?” He muses. “As always.”

You look at your empty glass, “sorry, sir, I didn’t–”

“Go on, have some more,” he prompts, “it’s a special night, baby.”

You don’t want more. You already feel off-kilter but you know better than to say no. You wade over to the edge and fill your glass before you return to him. As you do, he directs you into his lap, his dick bobbing hard beneath you.

“Mmm, baby,” he reaches around you and takes your glass, “you’re delectable. I could eat you up.”

He presses the brim to your lips and tilts it. You swallow as he pours into your mouth, gulping as the deluge nearly chokes you. When the glass is empty, you cough and he draws it away, placing it beside his one the tile.

He hugs you from behind and kisses your shoulder, “missed you. Sorry I was gone so long but things… got a bit hairy.”

“Yes, sir,” you lean back against him as his hands crawl up your stomach and he fondles your tits. He groans as your ass rests on his twitching length.

“You know him,” he speaks against your skin and sighs, “always something to argue about. Not like you, baby. You know how much I love you, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you lie.

“Fuck, it hurts how much I love you,” he snarls and nips at your neck, “I need you on me right now.”

“Sir,” your throat tightens as his hand wanders up to your neck.

You lift yourself slightly and feel beneath you. You angle his dick along your folds and spread your legs around his, easing down until you feel him in your stomach. You groan as your body tenses at the fullness. He squeezes your throat as his other hand grips your hip, forcing you down until it hurts.

“Good girl,” he rasps as he moves you slowly, guiding your pelvis in a torturous rock. “I’ve been thinking of this forever. One year…”

He growls and his hot breath fans over your shoulder and down your chest as he dips his head against you. He keeps his hold on your hip and his other hand drifts along your skin and down your arm. He takes your hand and raises it over the water, toying with the ring on your finger.

“Did you miss me?” He moans as he tilts you a little faster.

“Yes, sir,” you answer as you follow his lead, curling your fingers against his thigh, “I always do.”

“I wish it wasn’t so lonely down here for you,” he leans back, hanging his head back over the edge, “keep going.”

He pulls his hands back, bracing the tub as he groans. You keep your hips rolling, breath rising in shallow puffs as you fuck him. His deep voice drowns as he lets you take over, water slapping between your bodies.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he slaps your ass from the side, “you got a nice fucking ass. I think of that ass–” he grunts, “too much. Oh, god.”

You let out pathetic murmurs as he swoops his arm around you. He rubs your clit in circles as you work in his lap, knees against the porcelain as you grasp his thigh tighter.

“Fuck, baby, harder,” he begs as his fingers quicken on your clit, “yeah, like that.”

You obey, your voice underlining your frantic breaths. He snarls as the water splashes around your motion. You’re close as your walls clench him. He can feel it as he flicks you urgently. Your orgasm rolls over you but you fight through the pique to keep going.

“Mmm, you’re so good to me,” he presses on your bud until you whimper, “tell me to cum, baby.”

“Cum for me,” you huff, “sir, please, cum for me. You want to cum for me, don’t you?” You close your eyes as you recite your lines. “Are you bad? Are you going to cum in me?” He gurgles as you feel his body stiffen, “where do you wanna cum, sir?”

“Where do you want me to–” he rasps.

“Cum in me, sir, please,” you say through tight lips, “fill me up, please. I need it, sir.”

He spasm and latches onto your sides. He slams you down, over and over as he growls and fucks you from below. His pace is erratic and wild as the warmth coats your walls, slickening around him as he eases up. Finally, he stills you, pulling you back against his chest as he sighs.

“Mmm, I needed that,” he traces a line up your stomach, “but baby, I’m gonna cover every part of you in me.”

🕛

Just another day. Each like the last and the next. The only unknown is when he will be there. When he will come to cement the futility of your imprisonment.

There's never much to do. It's just you, you don't make much mess, and he doesn't leave much for you to clean up beyond yourself.

You pace as you usually do. By the books on the shelves you couldn't read for the reminder of what you'll never have again. The same reason the television stays black. The easel and paints that you only used once. The puzzle books you can't focus on enough to finish one riddle. The half-done knitting project. The evidence of your addled existence all around.

Click, click, click.

Your heels keep a tempo on the floor, holding pace with the ebb and flow of your thoughts. Slow, then fast, then stilling for just a moment as you turn back.

Click. Not a heel. Click. At the door. Click, click, scratch, beep, beep, beep.

You go to the doorway and peek around the plaster. The door shifts, shakes, then opens. You hide behind the plaster quickly. It can't be real. You've finally snapped.

The door whispers to a stop as he steps inside, his sole soft on the floor. You hold your breath and listen, not daring to poke your head out again. The gentle friction of some object moved and put back.

You step out of one shoe at a time and bend to pick them up. The rustle of fabric, a careful inspection of the coats by the door, for decoration alone. You don't need them, you never go out.

You cautiously tiptoe away as his footfalls advance down the hallway, closer. You scurry into the bedroom, panic tying your nerves in clusters as you look around. What do you do?

You roll open the closet and pull it shut swiftly as you spin inside. You slip on between the dresses hung on hangers and watch between the slats as the muffled noise of his invasion draws closer and closer.

He lets out a long exhale as his shadow skews over the hardwood.

"I can hear you," he utters to the air, "you're heartbeat. Come out."

You close your eyes and push yourself to the back of the closet, swallowed by the fabric around you.

"I know you're afraid. Your heart is racing. But I'm not here to hurt you." He steps inside and you quiver as you look through one eye, his blurry figure visible through the slat. "It's me, Cap? Steve Rogers."

He lets the declaration hang as he walks around the bed. He turns his back to you as he nears the night table, where an oval frame holds a picture of your and Tony. A picture where the sadness underlines your tight smile.

"The fuck…" he breathes.

"I'm not mad at you," he turns back, walking along the wall, towards the closet. "Not as much as him."

You smother your mouth as your tears trickle out. Tony's husband is just on the other side of the door and you're hiding. Hiding because he wouldn't believe you. Because you have nowhere to go and you learned long ago these heroes are anything but.

He pushes the door open so it folds, the wood snapping against itself. You sniffle as he shoves apart the hangers, unveiling you. His figure is shadowed as he blocks out the light of the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," you croak and cower.

"Come out," he says evenly, the anger barely restrained, "now."

You drop your shoes and step out. He moves back and watches you emerge. He looks you over as you shy away, slipping your hand behind your back as you see the golden band on his finger.

"Hey," he catches your arm and forces your hand up. His jaw ticks and he grits his teeth, letting go of you as he sneers, "fucking bastard. I knew it. And he was accusing me, but here–" he stops himself. "Let's go."

He grabs your wrist and drags you across the floor. You squeak as you try to dig in your heels, only causing your feet to drag painfully across the hardwood.

"Please, you can't-"

"Like hell I can't," he growls, "he wants to have a little pet, well too bad."

"No, please, listen," you plead as he forces you into the front room and marches you down the long hallway to the open door, "he won't let m–"

He tries to force you over the threshold and you cry out as a zap runs up your hand and down your spine. You violently rip away from him and hit the wall as you cradle your fingers, the ring searing you from the inside out. You sob and slide down to the floor.

"Christ! Tony!" He hollers as he squats and grabs your hand, "fucking–"

He tries to pull the ring off and another jolt surges in your, another shrill shriek as you swat him away.

"No, you can't–" you gasp as he lets you go and you keel over on the floor, weeping.

He huffs and stands up, kicking over the coat rack. It barely misses you as it falls and you sit up against the wall, breathless and babbling. You want to leave, you would do anything to leave, but you can't. He doesn't know how it hurts.

"Fuck!" He takes off his own ring and tosses it away, "fuck!"

"Always were the nosy type, Rogers," you wince as Tony’s voice echoes from the corners. You shrink as Steve turns, searching for him, "you spoiled the surprise."

"Surprise? Fuck you, Tony!"

"Now, now, honey, I couldn't give you an untrained pet, could I?"

"Bullshit!" Steve spins again, narrowing his eyes at a seam in the wall, "you've been fucking… her."

"I've been getting her ready for you," Tony calls back. The door suddenly shuts on its own and the lock whirs back into place. "Now don't go tryna run off on me just yet."

You curl up as Steve storms at the door and hits it with his shoulder. He does it several times and pulls at the handle. He snarls and kicks it, staggering back out of breath.

He pivots as he grips his hips and looks down at you, chest rising and falling heavily. He sighs and shakes his head. He slips down to sit on the floor beside the overturned coat rack.

"How long have you been here?" He asks.

You shrug, mopping your face with the back of your hands, "I don't know… a year… more."

"Do you want to be here?"

You stare at him, "that doesn't matter."

His blue eyes wander up the wall and he tilts his head back, "you're telling me."

You sit in silence, hugging your knees as you tremble and stare at his hand, fingers furling and unfurling. You hang your head and wipe your nose.

"I can make some coffee," you offer softly.

He flicks his fingers, exasperated, "sure, what the hell else am I gonna do?"

👠

You approach Steve quietly and set down the cup. He doesn't acknowledge you and you go to grab the cream and sugar, placing it close to the mug.

"Do you want milk instead?" You offer.

He breaks his trance fixated on the fridge and looks at you, "no, it's fine…" he wraps his long fingers around the porcelain, "thank you."

"I made cookies yesterday. Or the day before. I don’t know."

His lips part, a moment of disgust. He blinks, "no, no, that's… jeez. Can you sit down?"

"No, I have to be ready. I have to…" you stop your manic rambling, "sorry, sir, I'm sorry."

"Don't. Don't apologise. Don't talk like that. What is wrong with you?"

Your lip quivers and your frown. Your cheek twitches as your legs shake, "you're supposed to tell me what's wrong."

He bites down and stands. You flinch as he touches your upper arms and guides you back to sit in another chair. He holds you there and reluctantly parts.

"Where did you come from?" He sits and leans an elbow on the table as he hooks two fingers through the handle of the mug.

"I…" you look at the table, the rippled knot in the wood and cover it with your hand, "I worked the mailroom at Stark Tower. Once. Before…"

"Mailroom?" He cringes, "you're the one–"

He puts his hand to his mouth as his forehead wrinkles. He slips his head down and braces his forehead. You chew the inside of your cheek and look away.

"I'm sorry."

"No, I am," he sits back and grabs the cup, taking a deep gulp. He sighs and slams the cup down abruptly. The table jars and he stands, stomping out, "I can't fucking look at you."

You can't blame him. You hate yourself too. You hear him pacing in the hallway, then into the front room, something crashes and you drop your head down onto your arms as you slump against the table. This can't be real.

The door whirs and you sit up sharply, rocking the chair beneath you. Tony's voice flows down the hall.

"Honey, I'm home."

There's silence, then barreling steps down the hall. You turn and stare as Steve charges Tony back into the door as it locks. You don't move, paralysed as the blonde reels back and yowls.

"Come on, Rogers, you're not gonna bully me," Tony shows the odd skeleton contraption that wraps his hand, "why are you so ungrateful?"

"Me? You–"

"I told you, she's a gift. I'm surprised you waited for me to get started."

"Her? I don't–"

You can't see Steve, only Tony as he stands in the crux of the two doors.

"Tell me you don't want the sweet little thing," Tony taunts, "Rogers, I'd love to see it."

"Shut the fuck up. What did you do to her?"

"Everything that's going through your head at this very moment."

Silence. Tick, tick, tick.

"Tony," Steve mutters.

"Steve," Tony answers brightly, "you want her mouth first or–"

"Stop."

"I left her ass alone. For you, baby."

"Stop!" Steve shoves him and storms away, then back again.

Tony snickers as he regains his balance, "you're getting hard right now thinking about it. You want her. She's just your type, Captain. I should know."

"Stop, please," Steve begs, "we're married. You're–"

"I know you, all your little toys. Before–"

"I stopped," Steve blusters, "I stopped for you, Tony! What are you doing?"

"I'm spicing things up. Tell me it hasn't gotten stale."

"No shit. You got some girl locked up in this– this– bunker. Tony!"

"I can see your raging hard on, buddy, you don't gotta pretend with me–"

"Tony, I'm gonna fucking kill you. You are so–"

"Depraved? Fucked up? Kinky? You knew it. Let me hold her for you. Huh? I'll bend that pretty little ass over as you watch her suck my dick. Tell me you don't want it."

"Ton…" Steve rasps, "why?"

"Why not?"

Tick, tick, tick. You look up at the clock. Waiting.

"Oh, honey," Tony sings, "come here and meet the Captain."

You push the chair back, scraping loudly on the floor. You get up and rigidly turn, striding out to the hallway. Tony leads you in front of him to face Steve.

"Look at her," he snakes his arm around to force your chin up, "precious, isn't she?"

Steve takes a deep breath. The veins in his arms bulge as his eyes narrow and his pupils dilate. His head twitches as he clenches his jaw.

"And isn't he just the most hunky piece of star-spangled beef you've ever seen, baby?" Tony purrs against your crown.

"Yes, sir," you answer diligently.

"See how well I trained her, Cap? The soldier in you should be proud. Huh? Call him Captain, honey. He likes that."

"Okay, Captain," you shudder as Tony steps back.

Steve moans as he shifts his weight, his hand rising to brush down his chest. Tony tugs down the zipper of your dress and the fabric slackens. He pushes it down, baring you as he shoves it past your hips. You're left naked and prone to the other man's gaze.

"Rogers," Tony says in a musical taunt as he grabs your waist and urges you forward. "Look at her."

Steve looks down and shakes his head. He hooks his thumbs in the loops of his jeans.

"She wants you, Rogers. What's she gonna do without the Captain's firm hand?"

Steve takes a quaking breath and sucks his teeth. He tilts his head from side to side like a horse trying to shake its reins. His cheek dimples as he nods.

"Take her to the bedroom," he whispers, "gimme a moment here."

"You heard him," Tony lowers his hand to give your ass a tap, "get all nice and wet for him, baby."

Tony grasps your shoulders and steers you around Steve, who turns to watch as you go, eyes hooded and heavy. A darker presence lurks in him, something frightening, like a tiger licking its chops. The man behind you chuckles and urges you on.

In the bedroom, your blood cools and the heat razes your skin. You know how it goes, it always ends. You just need to get through it. Bite your lip, ball your hands, hold your breath, any way you can.

Tony takes you to the bed, ordering you around as he moves your body to his whims. Ass up, hands on the mattress, waiting, quiet, compliant.

He tickles your ass as he lingers behind you. You wince as he turns and gropes you fully.

“Be good for him, baby,” he groans as he pushes his pelvis against you, “I know you can do it.”

“Yes, sir,” you watch the bedspread.

You hear the floor creak. Tony stops you from looking back as he lifts a knee onto the bed. He grabs your skull and tuts, climbing in front of you as he holds you in place. He hushes you and pets your hair.

"Baby, it's okay," he coos and looks over you, "top drawer."

You curl your fingers into the blankets as you lean on your elbows. Clothing rustles around deliberate steps, a shadow looming behind you as Tony hangs on, keeping you blind to the other man.

"Baby, why don't you use that pretty mouth of yours while he gets warmed up?"

You push a hand up, clumsily picking open Tony's slacks, a designer cut like everything else. You tug at his fly and spreading them wide. He raises himself on his knees and wiggles as you eases them down, pulling the elastic of his briefs away from his stomach.

You shove the fabric low enough to pull him over the top, stroking him as he groans. He caresses your temple as your hand travels the length of him and back down, his veins throbbing against your palm. You shift closer as press your lips to his tips, sliding back the skin as you open your mouth around him.

"Mmm, yes, baby, that's so good. See how good she listens, honey?"

Steve grunts and something cool touches your ass. You whimper around Tony but he keeps your head bobbing, hooking a hand around to feel himself in your throat. You gag but hold it back.

"Mmm, she's good with her mouth, but you'll have to let me know about her ass," Tony hums as he carries the motion with his hips, fucking your mouth steadily.

The coolness retracts and cracks across your ass sharply. You choke as your eyes prick, the leather lashing again, biting into your tender flesh. You claw at the bottom of Tony's shirt and whine. Another snap of the belt has you shaking as your hand runs up Tony's torso.

Your tears leak out again, your body constricting as you try not to bite down. Steve lays another, full force and your legs slip you as your body contracts. You pull off of Tony as the pain overrides your restraint.

"Get her," Steve's tone is deep and rocky, "hold her."

Tony pins you down by your shoulders and Steve puts his leg over your thighs. He whips you again, again, until you're bawling and dripping with tears. He stops and traces a welt, blood leaking out hotly.

He slides his leg off you and exhales. Tony lets go and takes the end of the looped belt, angling it over your head. It's drawn tight to the buckle, forcing your head up. You sniff as Tony cradles your cheeks.

"Get that ass up, baby," Tony coaxes, "I know you can do it."

You shakily bend your legs under you and lift yourself. You hold yourself up on all fours as Steve backs away. Tony pushes a thumb against your lip and pokes inside your mouth.

A slippery cold trickle glides down between your cheeks and you flinch. Something lands beside your leg as Steve's hands spread across your ass. He dips his fingers down to smear the lube over your puckered hole. You tighten as he tickles you, playing and prodding, teasing as if he might delve further at any moment.

"I'll take a lot more for me to forgive you," Steve pushes his thumb against your ring, stretching you with the thick digits as you whimper.

"This is a start, isn't it, Rogers? I could never be that perfect little homemaker."

Steve growls and urges his finger deeper and you bite down on Tony's knuckle, the intrusion burning painfully. You suck on his thumb and bat your lashes, rolling your eyes back against the deluge.

"She's tight."

"I didn't fucking lie."

"Not about this," Steve grits, pushing in and out. "Hey, doll, you better loosen up."

You blow out as Tony slides back his hand to hold your chin. He looks down at you and winks, "Cap can be a big softie, if you let him."

Steve slips free of your ring and steps up, inching you back on the bed. His dick brushes along the curves of your ass and he angles it down between your cheeks. You gulp and flick your lashes up.

"Take it easy on her, can't have you breaking her right away," Tony warns.

Steve sneers as he edges along your ring and sets his feet. He leans in as you whimper, slowly opening for him. He doesn't let up, forcing himself deeper with short thrusts. You shriek with the horrid strain and reach back as you try to push him away with your fingertips, meeting only air.

He bucks into you completely and you cry out. Tony shushes you and grips your jaw, pushing you up to only your knees at the edge of the bed. Steve clutches your hip as his other hand explores your torso. He rocks against you, long, torturous thrusts.

You wheeze through your teeth, gnashing down as the agony stirs bile at the back of your throat. Tony cradles your face in his hands, resting his forehead against yours.

"Baby, you're doing it. Shhhh, you're doing so good. Isn't she, Captain?"

"Yeah," Steve says airily, speeding up so his pelvis slaps your wrought skin, "yeah, doll, so good."

Tony lets out a crackly chuckle, "see, baby, he loves you. Taking him so well. That's it. It won't hurt much longer."

You whimper and blubber as you clasp Tony's wrists. Your body vibrates around Steve as he pounds harder, harder, fingertips jabbing into your hip. He snarls and brings his hand to your throat, pulling you away from Tony.

Your eyes loll as he forces your head up, squeezing until you choke. You feel the bed shift and Tony's figure wisps by as he goes to stand behind his husband.

"That's it, Cap, that's how you do it. You see," Tony reaches around and pulls you back to your limit, "I need that special touch."

"Don't fuck around," Steve chuffs, "you're next."

"Counting on it," Tony slaps Steve's ass he he carries he eager motion, "better save some energy."

"I can do this all day," Steve drags you back and your feet fall to the floor as he bends you over the bed, body flush to yours, "til death do us part, honey."

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