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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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moonlesslights · 1 year

Text

Broken Hero (Dark Stony)

"—I'm just so tired of being the good guy.

Maybe you never were."

(Scenario located between the events developed in Captain America: Civil War and Thor: Ragnarok in the chronological order of the Marvel Cinematic Universe).

────────── ❂ ──────────

Steve's foot taps the floor lightly, intermittently, picking up the pace as the elevator ticks up one floor with each passing second. He feels the air turn heavy and a trail of cold sweat run down his spine. Only Bucky seems to notice, and maybe it's just because he's under the same level of nervousness as his blond friend.

“This is a bad idea.”

"I know, I heard you the first three times." Sam replies, crossing his arms.

"We shouldn't involve him, not like this, at least." Steve insists, giving both of his companions a sidelong glance.

Bucky sighs next to him and brings one of his hands to his own face, trying to stay calm. "Do you have a better idea, Rogers?"

The "ding" of the elevator makes him shut his mouth before he manages to give the long-haired man an answer. The metal doors open in front of them, presenting an open living room illuminated by large windows, with elegant and expensive furniture; full of toys only Tony Stark could have fun with.

"Friday, I thought I told you not to open the door to strangers." His voice comes out of nowhere as they step into the room. The echo of his footsteps is lost in the immensity of the place.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid they insisted." The program assures.

"We just want to talk, Tony.” The captain hastens to say, looking for Stark with his gaze. His brows rise as he surveys the building: nothing has changed since the last time they were there.

"Well, that's certainly a big surprise."

The three men turn their bodies, following the sound of Tony's words up the stairs that lead to the second floor of the place. The black-haired figure soon appears in their vision field, resting on one of the concrete walls with a glass of whiskey in hand, giving them a lopsided smile that is not at all welcoming.

"It's been a long time, or have you finally considered turning yourself in?"

The blond remains static in his place, unable to fully understand the words that leave the millionaire's lips, and directing his attention completely and invariably to his face, in something that seemed only an instinct now: His hair continues combed to one side, just as he remembers it; his goatee is certainly a bit longer; he dresses smartly, he assumes he plans to go somewhere once they've left; there's a new scar over his left eyebrow; and his eyes, dark hazelnuts, his eyes are what tells him that this is still the Tony with whom once, years ago, he drank that same whiskey and laughed out loud the whole night to, later, receive the sunrise on the huge balcony of the tower. He watches those brown eyes and they, from a distance, ignore him.

“You know we wouldn't be here if we didn't have to.” Sam takes a step in their direction, waving to the newscast playing on the living room screen, reporting what everyone already knew.

“Correction: it is necessary that I help you with something, however, unfortunately for you, I am not interested in getting my hands dirty for whatever stupidity you have gotten yourself into this time.”

"Tony, listen..." Bucky tries to start explaining but is interrupted before reaching the minimum.

“Ah, ah.” The black-haired cuts him suddenly. Ironic tone in his voice. "I don't think I've given you permission to speak to me, or even to be here, as I recall."

The one with longer hair remains silent then, frowning but looking down. Steve finally decides to leave his little trance and, taking a deep breath, he finds the courage to fix his eyes on the black-haired ones.

"We just need you to help us find someone, or rather the place where they might be hiding something." Rogers tries his best to remain calm but his heart pounding hard in his ribcage doesn't help much.

"Again..." One of his palms opens to the side, jerking as the other holds his glass close to his chest. “I am not interested.”

"We're not asking you to fight with us, just point us where to do it." Steve can see the twitch on Tony's face, ready to finish off his words again, but he decides to get ahead of the argument. “We're talking about super soldiers, Tony. Things that Zemo provoked when giving out too many Hydra secrets.”

The black-haired looks away, avoiding eye contact, looking through the huge window towards the city that stretched out like an infinite urban field below them. Steve set his jaw, immediately guessing where Stark's mind had traveled.

Zemo had released many secrets in his quest for revenge for his family, one of them, most importantly... A Checkmate, specifically targeting... Tony. A secret that destroyed him, that destroyed them both. That destroyed everything. Leaving him in ashes, without a single spark of hope to return to what he was before, to what they were before.

The blond's heart clenched at the thought.

"They're dangerous." He forces himself to continue. "And they've already crossed the line. They will stop at nothing to get what they want.”

For another minute in silence, Stark remains still but his head works at full speed, analyzing what he already knew about the new super-soldiers who, just days before, had caused an explosion near a downtown cafe, leaving several wounded back. And he also knew that if he didn't decide to help them now and someone else resulted hurt or worse… He would feel the irremediable guilt fall on him. Again.

"If it is information you want, I suppose I could help. If with that I manage to keep them out of my sight for another long time.”

The engineer nods and Falcon hastily follows, starting to tell him almost immediately about the plan he and Steve had come up with, along with Bucky's knowledge of Hydra, and his suspicions of what the soldiers might be up to, up to that point.

"We need some State files, even S.H.I.E.L.D's” Mentions, Sam, showing some photographs to Stark. "It will help us know exactly what we might be up against."

“Isn't it guys like them?” Tony mentions, turning his back on both soldiers as he walks, and simply gesturing at them.

Of the three of them, Steve knew, Sam was the one who had kept in touch with Stark the most, especially seeking news of Rhodey's condition, trying to assuage his conscience. It was no surprise that the he was the only one who Tony was able to accept so close to himself, after all, Sam was the only one there who had tried to make up for his mistakes.

“The serum they're using is unlike anything I've seen before. They're so much worse than us.” Bucky is watched sideways by Tony as his words leave his lips, wary but sure of his statement.

"Good." The millionaire takes the stack of papers that Sam offers him and places them on a glass platform, causing hundreds of transparent screens to light up with the information. “Friday, give me everything you can find on Robert Lord Taylor.”

“Of course sir. Just a second.” The female intelligence responds.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get my workplace cleared." Tony barely glances at them. "You can be downstairs in the meantime... But please, if you use the bathroom try to behave like decent human beings and put the damn lid down when you're done."

...

Fifteen minutes later, Sam, Bucky and Steve sit on the expensive dark sofas on the first floor, devouring a packet of cinnamon rolls that someone had left on the table. The feeling of the same furniture on his body brings back inconvenient memories for the blond, who more than once was scolded by the black-haired for putting his feet up on the seats <<Do you realize what it's made of, Rogers? That synthetic leather is worth more than your own ass.>>. Neither of the other two have spoken to him in the time they've been there, and for Steve that's been a godsend, because if they'd tried, they wouldn't have gotten an answer.

He listens to them joke around for a while about the girl Bucky met at a bar last week and the blunder he did in front of her. Sam mentions, scoffing, that spilling a drink on someone can be the beginning of the best love story or, as in the case of his friend, the worst memory of that girl with a man. Bucky nods scathingly, and tosses at him the bucket that it wasn't like Sam was any more successful at love than he was. And Steve smiles, pushing his thoughts away from whatever memory was hitting him at the time.

"It's taken him a while already..." The long haired murmurs. "To be Tony Stark."

"He probably regretted it and is calling Thaddeus right now." Sam teases, but doesn't get the slightest smile from any of the soldiers.

“I'll go see if everything is alright.” The blond gets up, shaking off the crumbs that the bread had left on his pants; but his walk is quickly stopped by Sam's hand holding onto his wrist, gently.

“Don't you want me to go?” His dark eyes look at him with empathy and a simple, sorrowful smile. And Steve knows that his intentions are good, that they come from a good place in his heart; but he can't help the shock of irritation that goes to his head. "I'm just saying... That maybe it's not the best idea right now..."

“I don't need this kind of protection, Sam.” Steve shifts, regretting his snapping tone. “I'll go see how soon we can get out of here and make sure we don't have to start running before other types of soldiers start breaking through any existing windows in this place.”

Steve begins to walk in the stairs direction, slightly annoyed with the silence in which his companions remain at his expense, being able to feel their eyes fixed hard on his back during his entire journey until he manages to lose himself in the corridor that leads to Stark's study. Out there, he was their captain, their leader, the man they both obeyed without question, but as soon as Tony's name was brought to the table, their looks of friendship, of respect, changed to pity and compassion. And it made him sick every time it happened.

He gently knocks on the glass door, attracting the attention of the black-haired man, who was on the other side of the table, his body facing him. Tony looks down without saying a word and continues to move between the various screens around him; Steve takes the act as an invitation to enter.

Or maybe just a resignation.

"Have you located somewhere yet?" the blond asks, moving to the side of the table.

"Everything on that side may be important for you to know." The millionaire points to the opposite corner of the room. "It's just that I'm trying to find one more thing, but I can't find where they hid it...”

Steve begins to read the various titles and notes on the screens, making mental notes of things that seemed important for him to finish the mission. The soldier's aquamarine orbs travel back and forth, amazed at the amount of information Tony had managed to retrieve in those few minutes. And he would have stayed that way, if he hadn’t collided head-on with a screen that offers him a view of a huge newspaper headline "SUPER SOLDIERS, CAUSE OR CONSEQUENCE OF AVENGERS DISINTEGRATION?" accompanied by a photo of Zemo's arrest with Tony out of focus in the background.

And before he can think things through soberly, the words escape from his lips, turning to the black-haired man:

“We need to talk.”

Tony stops his movements on the screens and watches him for a few seconds, frowning inevitably.

"I don't think so," he answers curtly. He wants this to be the end of that conversation, but Steve isn't willing to let it go for any longer.

"Well, I need to, Tony." His voice goes up a couple of tones, drawing the black-haired’ confused eyes. “I need you to try to understand me, to try to understand why I did it. I'm sick of trying to find one more excuse to apologize.

"Apologize? You left me a fucking phone, Rogers." Tony loses his temper, hitting the table and causing several of the screens to disappear. “You didn't apologize, you asked me to call you if I needed you. And that's exactly why your phone has never rung.”

“It rang once.” Steve counterattacks, seeking the engineer's gaze. The other tenses his jaw, completely avoiding him.

"You were right, okay?" Tony murmurs, turning away. “You were right about Thaddeus, about the government, about everything. You're always right and that night I realized it, and I called you..." His voice shakes and Steve lets out a frustrated sigh. “But nobody answered.”

"I couldn't, I couldn't, Tony!" The blond tries to take a few steps towards him but Tony immediately backs away. "I had no idea what to say to you, I had no idea how to apologize for what I did to you. And I was afraid...”

Stark exhales a breath, fighting not to cover his ears and yell for him to leave. He didn't want to hear what Steve had to say, he wasn't ready, he never would be and he had learned to resign himself to it, but now...

“I was afraid because I knew that the moment I heard your voice there would be no going back. Because I would have left everything if you had told me you wanted me here.” His voice trails off. “And I couldn't, I couldn't leave them.”

"And you never will, Steve." The black-haired points out, keeping his eyes down with a half smile, covered in pain. "Because that's you. And that is also why I forgave you a long time ago. Because when I confessed to myself that I had fallen in love with you, I also knew that I had fallen in love with all your values and stupid morals that lead you to always do what you think is right.”

Tony moves towards the door but Steve intervenes, he wasn't going to let him go, not now, not after he had told him again that he was in love with him, that there was still hope.

"No, no." He calls him desperately. “Do you remember the first time we were together? The next morning we argued terribly; I told you that I was in love with you and you told me that you were just horny and nothing more. And yet, you showed up at my door two days later, with coffee and my favorite dessert. You didn't say a word but you were there. It's my turn to be here, Tony!”

The black-haired remains silent, removing the screens around and taking, finally, some information. Without further ado and with glazed eyes, he hands it to the soldier.

“Everything you need is there.”

"Tony, please..."

“It's over, Steve. Everything is over.”

As the three men leave his home, the black-haired watches them again from the stairs. Bucky nods his thanks and Tony doesn't look away, which seems to be enough for the other. Sam says goodbye briefly and Steve doesn't look up again until the elevator doors close completely.

He fights back the tears he had thought so long drained away, as his head whips with the greatest conclusion to his story: he had lost the love of his life.

...

By the time Tony showed up mid-mission, amidst the gunfire and screams of the super soldiers, it wasn't even a surprise to Steve anymore. Plans were distributed, Bucky those on the West side, they against those on the North side of the building, and Sam on the other side, would seek to corner them along with Bucky on the East flank.

Now, thirty minutes later, Steve and Tony were in one of the building's rooms, waiting for the other two to show up with their work done. They talked, commented on what was happening and distributed what they would do once they were all on the ground. Just like in the old days. The heart of both dancing to the rhythm of the other's voice.

And Bucky, Bucky was supposed to have taken care of everyone on that side. Bucky should have taken care of everyone. But Tony was smiling as Steve recounted a prank they did to Sam, and Steve was so lost in his eyes. And the man, this unknown super-soldier... He walked through the door after them. Steve yelled a warning as soon as his eyes caught the movement, but it was too late.

The super soldier fired, Tony's body fell to the ground.

Steve reacted immediately, lunging at the intruder, bashing his shield over and over and over into the soldier's body. The metal burying itself in his flesh before returning to his arm and throwing itself forward again.

And it wasn't the first thud of a hit or the many that followed, like deafening crashes in the place, that caused Bucky and Sam to rush to the spot in growing desperation; were but the heartbreaking screams that seemed to go through each and every one of the walls of the place. One after another, long, painful, paralyzing...

It was Steve.

They both burst into the huge room almost at the same time. Sam was the first to assimilate the scene and, before regretting it, he called for backup. Bucky entered two seconds later, stifling a groan as he observed what had happened:

Steve was cleaning Tony's face, brushing his hair to the sides and caressing his cheeks in the action. The passivity on the man's face was broken only by the dark, dripping hole just above his left eyebrow.

"Tony, love, Tony." Steve's voice had dropped, but his breathing only quickened with each passing second. "Everything will be fine, love, I'm here. I got you.”

"Steve... What happened? Is Tony...?" Sam trailed off when the blond looked up. The man's eyes fixed sternly on Tony's head injury and the inactive reactor.

“You!” Steve exclaimed, standing up and pulling Sam out of his trance. "Where were you?! Where were you, Bucky?!"

Sam has to throw his entire body to stop Steve before he gets to the named soldier. Bucky was static, he didn't even seem to be able to react to the shouts that Steve continued to shot in his direction. The only thing that really showed the state he was in was the sweat that trickled down his temples.

"Let go of me! Let go of me, Sam!"

"Steve, Steve!" Sam tries to call him. "Calm down, everything is okay."

He regrets his words as soon as they leave his lips.

“Okay?!, Look at T-Tony!” His voice drops, not wanting to admit that there was something wrong with Tony, with his Tony. He turns his gaze to the soldier behind Sam. "And all because of you!"

"Steve! drop it, now." Sam's reluctant order leaves the blond less aggressive, returning to rest his feet fully on the ground.

"You were supposed to have been here, Bucky, you should have entered through that door, not... him!" He pointed to the assailant's body almost embedded in the concrete of the wall due to the number of blows on the torso. “Where were you?!...”

The agent tries again to reach him but Sam gets in the way.

"Steve..."

“WHERE WERE YOU?!” he yelled, tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened, trying to hold the lump in his throat. "...Where were you, Bucky?" His voice was barely a whisper between the ever-closer sirens.

Anger hits him again, just when his sight had gone out of focus, as if remembering everything. Not only the moment he saw a bullet going through the head of the love of his life, but also the smile he was giving him before that, soft, flirtatious... loving; and how it was gone so suddenly as his body rushed into his arms, and as he poured out his anger on the man's body, Tony's voice echoing softly, one, two, three times... Altering the named, making him see black, until he ran out of strength and dropped to the ground with the body of his lover in his hands.

His heart was pounding in his chest, so hard it hurt. Tony's eyes seemed to look at him even when he knew they didn't anymore. The system seemed to shut down and his Reactor stopped glowing as Steve's cries of despair grew louder and louder.

In front of his eyes he could see his worst nightmare come true, and his head was hitting him with the only two words he never wanted to see together: Love and death.

The only thing he could think of as he tore at his throat screaming was: The person I love has been murdered.

“It was your fault!” he yelled, coming to his senses once again. “You had to be here, with us! You were the one who had to take care of everything on that side!”

His voice had reached a new point and the emotions that his face reflected were chillingly sad.

Bucky spoke for the first time since they had entered there.

"Steve... I... I'm sorry." Saying so, the agent began to walk back towards the body gently lying on the ground, already ignoring the words of his best friend.

Bucky tried to take a few steps towards him but...

"Stay away! Stay away from him!" Steve yelled, enraged, stopping him dead in his tracks. "You caused this, you were the one who told us that he wanted us on this stupid mission even though we said no!" He turned to Bucky. "This is on you."

Steve fell onto his knees and pulled Tony's body against him, swaying, lulling him. His sobs soon develop into the only thing Sam and Bucky can pay attention to, even as the room is filled with cops.

No official dared touch Steve for the first 15 minutes. They all knew him after all, and seeing him that way was tearing them apart.

One of them finally approached, putting her hand on the captain's shoulder. He didn't even look at her.

“Steve, we have to go.” The agent shook his head. "You have to come with us."

Several more agents passed, all failing in the attempt. Some tried to go to Tony's side, putting their hands on him to try to separate him from Steve, but they didn't even get to that: As soon as the soldier noticed their intentions, he sobbed for them not to touch him, and if they didn't stop, then he would yell at them almost at the top of his lungs to get out of there.

It wasn't until agents arrived with direct orders to clear the area and didn't care about anything else that they managed to separate them.

Four of them grabbed Steve and lifted him up, dropping Tony's body, which two others lifted as if he were a piece of junk.

Steve lost control before the act and lunged against one of those who held him, giving him a good blow while he screamed and struggled <<Let go of me!, please, leave him alone!>>

They sedated him in that moment, making him heavy and tired in a few seconds.

"Please… don't hurt him." Tears streamed down his face and his voice trailed off a little more each time. “He doesn't like to be alone, I have to go with him, please...”

The officers began to drag him towards the exit while two others put Tony in a whitish bag, cruel.

"Tony... he's hurt, don't put him there..." He felt the world spinning and his heavy eyelids closing, making him see black. He couldn't anymore, he didn't want to anymore. His voice trailed off but the tightness in his chest continued to threaten to kill him when he, before giving up, murmured to them desperately: "He hates the dark."

Steve surrendered to the unbearable clouds that swallowed everything, and he thought that maybe that was the way it had been for Tony, he thought that maybe those officers had done him a favor and that he would soon wake up with the engineer next to him. And he would never hear from the world again.

…

The next day, Steve woke up in a hospital surrounded by presents that his colleagues had left for him. His presence was wrapped in a clean, neutral scent, and his heart clenched as he remembered all that had happened.

He had woken up to a meaningless life, without Tony.

His eyes met Sam's, who was standing outside the room, wary. Bucky peeked out from behind him, looking down as soon as his eyes met the agent's.

They were both watching it and they knew it. He knew it himself.

Steve had died. He died in the night, with his lover in his arms. And he died screaming for him.

However, the monster that took his place was silent.

#stony #dark stony #avengers #avengerspov #imagine #stark x rogers #stony angst #stony fluff #tony stark #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers x tony stark #sam wilson #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barns #bucky barnes #bucky barns angst #avengers imagine #avengers angst

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