#dark!mcu

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Three months. That’s how long it’d been since you and your sisters had escaped your Hellhole of a life. That’s also how far along you were in your pregnancy. You weren’t showing yet, but all your sisters and nephews and nieces knew. Nobody allowed you to stand too long without offering you a chair, and you were exempt from all household chores, to your dismay. The one thing you begged to let them allow you to do was shop on your day and take care of the young children.

Today was your day to leave to get groceries. This time was always extremely stressful for you and your sisters, none of you knew what lay beyond the door. There was no way to know if today was the day that you would all have to separate. More stress was in the air due to your pregnancy. 

Lucille wrote the list of supplies before handing it to you, smiling. “Okay, here’s everything we need. Do I need to remind you not to talk to strangers?” She lifts an eyebrow, her lips turning into a smirk as you slap her arm playfully. 

“Don’t worry, mom, I promise I won’t.” She laughed at you before hugging you close. You all always did this, just in case it’d be your last time together. 

Anne was next to hug you. “Stay safe, baby sis.” You hugged her tight, calming your nerves as you smelled her candy perfume.

 You went on to hug Vienna and she rubbed your belly. “No matter what happens, just know baby boy will keep you safe.” You smiled at your sister.

“You’re so sure it’s a boy?” Vienna nodded.

“Positive. I predicted all my kids’ gender correctly, what makes you any different?” She lifted your hand from your belly, replacing it with yours. You’d always wanted a girl, but deep in your heart you felt it was another boy too. You’d never admit this to your sister, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Your witchcraft doesn’t work on me, devil woman!” you joked, causing all your sisters and you to laugh. You savored that moment, how you felt and the way you all sounded at peace. No doubt none of you had felt that way in a long time. A piece of you knew it all was temporary, soon you’d all go back to worrying. Was that shadow or a person following them? Was that stranger living near us before or did they just move in? What do we know about them?

You were pulled from your thoughts when Anne clapped her hands. “Well, on your way. You want to get there and back before rush hour.”

~

You shopped the aisles of the American store, looking for your last items. As you're pushing the cart you hit something. No someone. You looked up shocked and immediately apologized upon seeing a woman with white hair. Her hand travels down to her protruding belly protectively, and your eyes get wide.

“I am so sorry, Ms, here let me help you.” You rush to the woman’s side as she tries to bend down to pick up her dropped items. She stands back up as you bend to get her items before handing them to her.

“Don’t worry about it, I should really look where I’m going. I don’t have a giant sign on me.” She chuckles at her joke, and you just nod your head. You couldn’t help but feel you knew her, but shook your head. That’s impossible. You knew no women except your sisters and nieces.

“Well, I’m sorry again. Have a good day, ma’am.”

“Wait!” You look back at the woman when you turned to leave her to her business. “I’m sorry to bother you, but could you help me with my groceries home? I live just down the road in Kilven’s road, I was going to ask a grocer to help me but they’re all men. I don’t feel comfortable with that, I’d rather have a woman. If you can’t I completely understand, just thought I’d try anyway.”

You considered the woman for a minute. Kilven’s road was next to yours, it would be an extra 5 minutes max to help this pregnant woman. You understood her wariness to ask a male to help her home. Besides, you did hit her with your cart.

“Sure, let me just check out and I’ll be happy to help you out.”

The woman smiled at this. “Really? That’s great, thank you so much! My name’s Nat by the way.”

~

You and Nat talked the short walk to her house, she had just moved there a year prior to be with her German boyfriend-turn-husband of 6 years. You  nodded your head as she told you stories, you kept your life story vague. You had just moved there yourself, but that’s all you offered.

“Do you have any kids?” You opened your mouth to speak before closing it again, unsure how to answer. You wanted to trust Nat, but you were still getting a weird feeling around her. “I’m sorry, that’s very rude of me. Don’t answer that.”

“It’s okay.” You smile at the woman as you readjust the bags on your shoulders. One held Nat’s items and the others yours. You both shopped light to your luck. You continued to walk in a bit of silence until the woman pointed to her house. 

“Here I am.” You followed her up the steps as she took out her keys. “Would you like to come in? My husband baked a mean German chocolate cake.” She took her bag from your shoulder, and you smiled at her generosity. 

“No, thank you, but I should really be getting home if I want a headstart on dinner.” The woman nodded at your response.

“Of course, of course. Thank you again for your help, get home safe, dear.”

You thanked the woman as you waved goodbye and stepped away down the steps. You hurried off the road with your bag and to your own, never looking back. Little did you know the woman was following you the entire time. 

~

When you got to your house, you took out your keys swiftly before putting them in the lock. You opened the door, looked out and saw nobody there, then locked it behind you.

“I’m home!” You walked to the kitchen, noticing the eerie silence. That’s weird. “Hello?” You walked up the stairs, still not hearing one child. Did they leave? They didn’t call you. When you reached your room you gasped at what you saw. 

“James?” Your husband smiled back at you as your sisters sat in the small room’s corner. James had a gun pointing at the bathroom where you heard small whimpering sounds, no doubt the children were in there. 

“Hey, Baby, miss me?” You gulped.

“James, please. Let my sisters and their children go. I’ll go with you peacefully, just don’t hurt them.” James shook his head.

“Can’t do that, Doll. These women have husbands who are worried sick about them and their kids. Would it be right to just let them kidnap their children and disappear halfway across the world with them?”

You looked to your sisters as tears fell from their eyes. This was all your fault. You should’ve never stayed with them, you and Bucky should’ve found your own place to escape to. You should’ve known James would find a way to you.

“James, please. Don’t do this.” Just then the door downstairs bursted open. You all, except Bucky, jumped at the sound. Fast steps made their way up the stairs, and then Nat appeared in the room’s doorway. Only this time she had no belly.

“Natasha, perfect timing.”

Natasha?

Suddenly you remembered. How could you be so stupid? The woman before you with her own gun was the woman you met at your wedding. She talked to James about moving to Germany to live a life on the downlow. Back then she had red hair.

She sauntered into the room, smirking at you, before aiming the gun at the same door James just was. “Their husbands are on their way here. They should be getting off the plane in about 5 minutes and they’ll be here to get children and wives back in no more than 30 minutes. I’ll keep these lovely ladies company until then.” Your sisters’ eyes widened at her words, and you started crying. 

James smiled and lowered his gun before walking to the bathroom. “Good.” He opened the door and your nieces and nephews started crying. Your heart broke for the pain you were causing. James walked from the room with your son in his arms. “I have everything I need, so I think I’ll take my wife and son and head out.”

Your son calmed down his cries when he was in his daddy’s arms, snuggling closer to him and laying his head beneath his chin to suck on his thumb. 

Natasha turned her attention to you, still keeping the gun pointed at the door. “Look at what you caused. Your son could have grown up without a father. Is that what you want?” She raised her voice at you causing you to jump a little. You shook your head, closing your eyes as more tears poured from them.

“It’s okay, Nat, all that matters is we’re all back together. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“T-that’s right,” you whispered, not wanting to speak the venomous words. James walked over to you before grabbing your arms in a tight grip. 

“Happy you agree, let’s go home. Now.” The last word was growled in your ear, causing you to stiffen again. You opened your eyes to see your sisters again. They smiled weakly at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed out. James pulled you from the room then the house. A car came to pick you up as you traveled back to the Hell you had tried so hard to crawl away from.

~

When you got back home, James beat you. Bad. You cried and screamed at him to forgive you. Punches flew at you from every side. Your eyes threatened to swell shut from his blows and your lips were purple and bruised. You tried to tell him about the child you were pregnant with, but he couldn’t hear you through his rage. When you were down he kicked your stomach and you cried out in immense pain. He just grabbed your face and kissed you roughly.

James then picks you up from the ground before pushing you down on the bed. “Take off your clothes,” he demands, leaving no room for negotiation. Your mind was still foggy from what had just happened that James had forced on you the minute you both walked through the door and he handed Bucky to a maid you had never seen before. “Now, Doll, don’t make me repeat myself. I’m already pissed.” His nostrils flared as he spoke. 

With shaky hands, you steadily reached for the white button up you had been wearing. You discarded the fabric to the floor, revealing to James your white lacy bra. His pupils dilated as he watched on, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Next was your skirt, and then you were left with just her matching underwear set. You looked up at James with doe eyes, waiting for your next order. Just like the obedient little girl James had made you. 

“Keep going,” was his only command as he reached to pull off his white dress shirt that hugged his muscles just right. He palmed his growing hard on, the outline very prominent in his black dress pants. The size made your eyes water with more tears. You knew he wouldn’t be gentle. No matter how many times James fucked you, you were still just as terrified as the first time, nearly crying every time he’d stuff it into your tiny cunt. 

James reached behind you aggressively to undo your bra and let it fall to the floor along with your other clothing. Your boobs bounced from being free, and you slowly slid your panties down next. 

You were looking to the floor as you untangled the lacy fabric from your legs, but looked up when you heard a chuckle. You met James’ eyes as his face was turned up in a smirk. 

“Such a fucking tease,” he tsked, “You just want me to destroy that tiny little pussy of yours, don’t you?” You kept eye contact with him as you nodded her head.

“Yes, sir.” 

James leaned down in front of you, grabbing her face and pulling you roughly forward to his lips. He squeezed your jaw so you would open to him, wanting nothing more than to assert dominance with his tongue. 

James’ kisses were never loving, just hungry. He moaned into your mouth as his tongue explored; all the while you sat back with submission, allowing your master to take full control of what’s his. After what felt like minutes, James finally pulled away, pushing you back even more and causing you to whimper at the force. The fight in you dying forever ago.

James unhooked his belt as you held his gaze, dropping eye contact was a rule that you had learned not to break. Once her clothes were off, they had officially begun; after that she wasn’t allowed to look away from him. 

“Turn around. You’re going to learn not to disobey me one way or another.”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you really think you could escape me?” You started to cry again.

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, not yet you’re not. But you will. Look at me.” You turned around and your eyes widened. James’ left arm was replaced with that of a metal one. “You wanna know how I got this?” He tossed a cast that was in the shape and color of his arm that you were used to to the floor. “I was a prisoner of war in World War 2. I was used as a war machine long after the war ended. I’m an ex-supersoldier, Baby. Did you really think you could escape me?” James was starting to raise his voice as you started to cry again. 

He spanked your ass with his robotic arm and you lurched forward at the force. James continued spanking your bare ass until you were so raw you could barely feel it anymore. Your stomach cramped so bad and you screamed at the sudden pain, clutching it and falling to the bed weakly. 

“Get up, I’m not done with you.” But you couldn’t move. You could just stay in the fetal position as your body convulsed in the worst pain you could only relate to birth. Then you felt a liquid escape from your vagina. Your eyes squeezed shut as you begged the pain to leave you soon.

“Y-you’re bleeding. Are you okay?” James’ words barely reached your ears as you suddenly felt nauseous. You couldn’t move as your stomach emptied it’s contents on the bed. Then you saw black.

~

James had beat you so bad you had a miscarriage. When you woke up, you were in a hospital bed. A nurse was checking your vitals when she noticed you were awake. She greeted you, asking how you were feeling, before informing you of the terrible news. She asked to confirm what your husband had told them, that you had fallen down stairs and that explained your bruises and swollen eyes. You said yes.

After that day you were forever broken. You never stepped out of line with James, and you became the wife he had always wanted. No more did you dream of an escape, nor what the future held. You didn’t care.

James was never the same, either. After the incident, he was doting. Always saying he loves you, buying you expensive presents daily with flowers of different kinds. He tried to set you up so you could see your sisters more often, and he even let you leave the house. But you wanted none of it. You took the gifts with not so much of a smile, you rejected to see your sisters, and you chose to only leave the house when food was needed. You only bought Bucky clothes online, not being able to stand being in a child store. 

When Bucky’s 4th birthday rolls around, 3 years later, he is eager to start preschool. He didn’t remember his aunts or his cousins, and he was closer to his father than ever before, shying away from you as you grew colder and colder to both of the relationships you had in your life. It was him who dropped him off to school as you stayed home with a maid to take care of you and your needs. You were currently pregnant with a girl. James said you’d name Dahlia, Dolly for short. She’d be your perfect rainbow baby, he said, a real Doll. 

When Bucky came back home he showed you a card he had made for James at school, insisting it go on the fridge. You obeyed, hanging it there with a magnet that made Bucky happily skip away. 

The card showed Bucky and James hugging, not a sight of you or the child in your womb. You were a waste of space, a visitor in the home you’d created. A hollow shell of who you used to be. You thought about your suicide. It seemed easy, too easy. It’s a small price to pay for freedom, but at what cost? 

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𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏…

‧₊˚✩彡. bitter honey.

‧₊˚✩彡. the tale of sleeping beauty.

𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹: 5/2/2024

1 year ago

“Welcome to Sweets! What can I get started for ya?” You were smiling brightly because it made the customers feel more welcomed. The last thing you wanted was for your annoying boss to tell you to do so. That you look so much prettier when you smile.

“Hi,” she beamed as she directed her eyes between you and the menu looked so sophisticated in her power suit, kinda like a lawyer, “I’ve never been here unfortunately,” she grinned giving you her full attention “So tell me what you think is best,”

“Well, no shocker you haven’t heard of this place, it’s kinda a hole in the wall,” you shrugged your shoulders as dusting your hands off on your apron. “I love the lemon blueberry cupcakes. The blueberry are the sweet while the lemon is the sour.” you smile as you tell her this, rememberingthe last time you ate them.

“I’ll get a dozen of them than.” You looked at her a little shocked but didn’t say anything not wanting to look unprofessional. No one had ever asked what you liked and actually got it. It made you feel important, needed.

“Ok I’m all over it, Ms?” You look with a questioning look for her name.

“Potts.”

That was the first time you met Pepper and she began to come in every single day and order something new each time. You two become close, sharing life stories like how she was born in February, how her real name is Virginia and more intimate things. You told her about your rough upbringing and how your in college to do better for yourself. You didn’t tell her everything and she didn’t pry, but she knew there was more.

It wasn’t long before she offered you a job. At first you thought catering but then she later clarified she meant work for her. It would be triple the price and you could live in her house rent free. She knew you hated your boss, the fucked up hours he made you works and the down right nasty comments he would say to you. She didn’t want to see you go seeing as you need the money for college. Even though it sounded amazing, you told her you had to think about it because you really wanted to focus on school, so she left her number so you could call her when you figured it out. For three days Pepper didn't come to the bakery and you were still thinking. Tomorrow is the weekend ,your time off, so you would have time to yourself and to think about the offer. I mean this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, right?

You walk home because the bakery isn’t too far from your apartment or that’s what you tell yourself as you walk 4 blocks to your place. As you thankfully reach your last step of the stairs you think about how cheap and lazy your landlord is for not installing an elevator and how you have to suffer because you live on the fourth floor.

You open your door and toss your bag to the closest couch, not caring about the pretentious inside of it. You put your back to the wall, right beside the door and slide down until your butt is on the floor then you begin to violently yank your shoes off which leaves you breathless once they’re off. You look straight for a second, while trying to catch your breath but you see a silhouette on your far couch and it scares you. At first you thought it was your mind playing with you like when you mistake the jacket on the back of your door for a demon at night but never in history has a jacket turned on the light.

You had turned away because it was so bright but when you look back to the seat you were stunned to see a man you didn’t recognize sitting in your apartment. The more you looked you realized it was Tony Stark. Why was Tony Stark sitting in your apartment? How did he get in? Was he going to kill you? Why is he here? Tony Stark? He is the most dangerous man in New York. He is known for trafficking drugs and guns all over the state. He makes other mobs pay him for safety on his territory or they die. He has killed fathers and mothers and children, as far as you were concerned he is an awful person.

“Well hello princess,” he smiled at you. “I thought you would never come home.” You continued to stare at him like he would disappear any moment, like he wasn’t real.

“A- are you gonna kill me?” You said it so quiet but not on purpose but from fear as tears well in your eyes. He laughed at you, you are terrified shitless. Why is he laughing?

“Now why would I do that huh?” He had this fake shocked and confused look on his face. “Do you really think that low of me?” Yes. You shake your head from side to side, too fearful to say no.

He walks to you and gets down on your level. You look down not wanting to make eye contact with a killer but he gently pulls your chin. A single tear from your right eye falls down your face as you think about your last moments. You think he might say something, but he doesn’t. He lets go and begins to walk around in your living room, his shoes echoing throughout the space.

“You know my wife came home with these pastries saying she got them from a little bakery in town,” he pauses to turn to see if you’re paying attention. “When she began going everyday well, I couldn’t help but wonder what was taking all her attention, but all I found was you.” He was smiling but it did feel right.

“So you’re going to kill me?” You brokenly asked, wanting to know if you should unlock the door so the EMT’s could get you in the morning. He again turned his head to you.

“Let me finish,” he said with a sharp tone to match his glance before walking to your kitchen and looked around more, but stops at your fridge to look at all the things you had on it. Pictures, magnets and drawings from the kids that come to the bakery regularly “I watched you for a couple weeks,” weeks?? “And I couldn’t help but see why she was so infatuated by you. You’re sweet, you gave a kid a free cookie when he couldn’t get it himself so he wouldn’t feel left out, and I mean what is your secret to making such good desserts,hmm?”

“ I-I don’t know,” more tears continue to fall from both eyes. He nods his head as he eats your raspberries that he took from the fridge while leaning against your kitchen counter. You’re still sitting beside the front door and you think about running for it. His laugh pulls you from your idea.

“And here I was thinking you would say love or some bullshit like that. You’re a smart girl so you know if you run, the men I have posted outside will bring you right back here, and let’s be honest you don’t have the energy to run down those stairs,” Barely had any to get up them in the first place. You move a little bit to feel your butt and he gives you a death glance. He goes into the hallway and all you could think about was how bad you wanted him out of your house as you continue to let single tears fall from your eyes.

When he came back he has a picture frame in his hand. He had taken it off your picture wall on the other side.

“Is this your best friend? How cute,” he has this fake halfway smile on his face while you had fear coursing throughout your body. You stand up but stay still. “Look at you. So cute.”

“ W- W-,” he nods his head like he was telling you to spit it. You exhale very annoyingly but you didn’t let it show as you angrily wipe your tears away. “What do you want from me? I don’t know your wife.” You sound stuffy even though you wanted to sound aggressive.

He put the picture of you and your best friend down on the living room table as he walked closer to you.

“Monday when she comes in to see you, you my smart girl are gonna tell her you’re done thinking and that you want to work for her, you got it?” The look in his eye kept you quiet “Because if not I would have to pay a visit to that adore bff of yours, am I understood?”

You didn’t even have a minute to process what he had just said to you before he grabbed you by your throat and pushes your head back. It felt like he was trying to pull you from your head and he did. The feeling of hands around your throat sent an alarm through your body.

“Am I understood?” He says slowly and leans down a bit. You nod your head rapidly so he could take his hands off your throat. He eventually did let go and you gasp for air.

“Oh stop it I didn’t even squeeze that hard.” Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one being chocked. He snickered and for a moment you wondered if he knew what you were thinking. He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m glad we had this talk princess,” he brushes your shoulder ever so slowly, like he was your romantic partner. “I hope you remember everything I said, I will be seeing you soon.”

You kept your eyes closed as he opened the door beside you but you didn’t miss it when he said

“Oh and let’s not tell Pepper about this ok? ” And with that he was gone as quietly as he came. You slide down the wall again feeling all the blood leave your body.

Pepper Potts

—-

After the events of Friday night, you stayed in bed the whole weekend. You didn’t do the laundry or clean the apartment or go partying. When Monday rolled around and it roll around quick, you didn’t want to go to work, but you didn’t want Tony back in your home. So you got up and got dress, hopped down the stairs and did your 4 block walk.

When you walked in you saw Pepper sitting in a chair, like she was waiting for you. She smiled at you but you continued walking. You felt so betrayed. Her husband came and threatened you to take her job offer. Why would she do that? Why you?

You walked to the back to put your stuff up and put your apron on. When you walked back to the front she was at the counter, and you took a sharpe breath.

“Good morning Ms. Potts, what can I do for you?” You really pushed that Ms part. She was taken aback, you never called her that. You didn’t look at her, you looked down at the ordering machine.

“Um,nothing today,” you had to look up from the machine. She was still smiling at you “I was just wondering if you thought about my offer.” You stopped what you were doing to look at her. You want to say fuck no but you remembered what Tony had said to you and you pulled yourself together. You take a deep breath and prepare yourself to lie as you look up.

“I’ll take it,”

“Oh I’m so excited, I thought you would say no,” you would have if it weren’t for her fucking husband and you could help but soften at her happiness.

“I told you this would happen–” 

Your blindfold was soaking wet from all the tears you had shed and your mouth was filled with the bitter taste of iron. Body still trembling, you held your breath and curled up into a ball. Your wrists burned from the wire tied around them, it wouldn’t have been that bad if you hadn’t struggled. The wires painfully dug into your skin and your body informed you it would leave marks with pain. You gritted your teeth, your nostrils flaring as you breathe. You were so close to escaping. So damn close. But of course you had gotten yourself caught by some common thugs. They had beaten you, both physically and mentally, but you hadn’t so much as let out a peep. You knew something worse awaited you if you did. 

But alas, the thugs saw this as a challenge, they made a game out of it. Whoever could make you scream would get a reward. 

You don’t remember what sent you over the edge– the punches, the kicks to your stomach, the belittling, the sharp knives gliding across your skin, oddly enough nothing sexual happened but it fittingly hurt like hell. In the end they made you scream, not only that they made you scream out for him. The person behind your silence. Tears streamed down your face as you did so, your throat feeling sore as you screamed out again and again, until your voice became hoarse. 

Now he towered over you, his tone and demeanor condescending. The room was filled with the scent of blood, the blood of those who almost beat you to death. Two fingers pulled at you blindfold and despite your vision being blurry you could see. The room was dark, only the soft lights of nearby street lamps lighting the inside. You didn’t dare to look up to him, to Matt. You felt ashamed, angry, weak. He knelt in front of you, his hand now against your cheek, caressing the shallow cut with the inside of his thumb. 

“Are you alright?” 

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes. Why did he sound so caring? So gentle? You felt suffocated. Bells rang in your head, you needed to run. 

“I hate you–” 

“Can you get up?” 

He ignored the venom in your voice and as a response you chose to ignore him. Matt sighed, as he got up he took a hold of your wrist and threw you over his shoulder as if you weight nothing. You didn’t protest against the rough treatment, god knows you’ve been through worse tonight, you only winced when his shoulder dug into your stomach. Despite not making a noise of discomfort he seemed to hear you and slightly adjusted your body, now his shoulder dug into slightly above the pained area. 

“I told you not to run off,” he spoke as he started to walk in a direction you could vaguely recall as “home”.  “Why do you always choose to ignore warnings?” 

You didn’t say anything. In all honesty you didn’t know how to reply to him, he was like olive oil always floating above water. Whatever you said he would counter it with questionable, yet undeniable, logic. Lawyers truly were terrifying. 

“I can’t keep protecting you like this,” he continued, his voice cracking at the end. “I thought you loved me. Why do you always run?” 

You knew where this was going. His tone of voice was slowly shifting into one of anger, disappointment, resentment. You saw this exact same scene play out many times before. He would fear for you, cry for you, worry about you– But as soon as you were safely tucked under his wings he would be angry with you, wanting to punish you. He would scold and berate until you admitted you were wrong. You always did in the end. In the end it was foolish for you trying to escape him, the daredevil of all people. He could hear things happening a mile away, smell the hint of gunpowder before any shot was taken, you couldn’t run from him. Not as long as you lived in Hell’s Kitchen. 

When you once more answered him with silence he gave up on trying to have a conversation. The reason for it was partially because it couldn’t have been easy jumping from rooftop to rooftop with a person hanging over your shoulder, the other was that he was waiting to arrive home. There he could do whatever, he also knew your psyche was weak. Being in a familiar, unpleasant environment– at least for you– would make you break down easier. He was in a tough spot with the Kingpin, you doubted he also wanted to deal with you. At least, not like this. 

The two of you entered through the window. Matt gently placed you on the bed and quickly disappeared to, you assumed, the living room to bring the first aid kit. Your body ached as you blankly stared at the ceiling. How long have you been trapped? Five months? Seven? Time was a concept you knew nothing of anymore. You only knew that it was January and that was it. Your mind swirled, surely there would be ramifications of your disobedience. But Matt still seemed to be in a mood of worry, which was equally as sickening as the times he was filled with rage. To you, the gentle moments hurt far far more. It reminded you of a time where he was a nice, broke lawyer working with his best friend. Matt Murdock was someone to fall easily in love with. You hadn’t thought of the possibility that his version of love was a twisted, sick kind that poisoned you inside and out. 

He came back with a white metal box in hand, it had a comically large red plus on it. Matt sat down right next to you, the bed dipped under his weight. Then he opened the tin and turned to you, his eyes looked past you. 

“Where are you hurt?” he asked. 

You thought about not replying but you couldn’t deny that you weren’t in pain. 

“Cut wound on the left side of my face, one above my brow, the right corner of my lip. They kicked me multiple times in my stomach– Ah, also my wrists were cut from the wire they tied me in.” 

Anger simmered in his eyes but you ignored it, without saying anything Matt took out a cotton ball and after dabbing it with an antibiotic he started to clean the wounds. You hissed at the burn and that seemed to edge him further, his fingers pressing more forcefully against them. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, voice devoid of any emotion. 

“Yes.” you answered automatically. 

“You’re lying.” 

“What do you want me to say Matt?” you snapped, voice raising slightly as you glared at him. “I hate being locked up here. I can’t escape, I can’t do anything. Even if I do manage to find an opening–” tears blurred your vision. “Something like this always happens, I can’t get away from you,” 

“Maybe that’s because you’re not supposed to,” his voice was soft again. He threw the dirtied cotton to the floor and pulled out another one. “How many times are you going to try this? Isn’t the answer obvious, you’re supposed to be with me and stay by my side.” 

A tear slid down your burning cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb. 

“One of these days I’m not going to be there to save you–” 

Your eyes went wide. For some reason the message behind the sentence stung, both physically and emotionally. Something clenched at your heart and a knot formed in your throat. Why on earth did the sole threat of him not being there for you scared you so much? Wasn’t that what you wanted? To get away from him? Your ears rang, he was still talking but you couldn’t hear him. With a ragefull fit you balled your hands and attempted to punch him. Matt smoothly moved out of the way, making you stumble forward and almost fall out of bed. Before you could pull back he grabbed your fist and bent it, jolts of pain shot throughout your body. A scream ripped from your throat and without any warning his hand cut through the hair and slapped you across your face. You gasped, your free hand immediately going to your cheek, cupping it as you tried to soothe the pain. 

“Maybe I give you too much credit. You clearly can’t make smart choices,” you could only describe his tone as a growl. Your breath hitched as he climbed between your legs, still holding onto your arm and twisting it whenever you moved. “Why the sudden anger? Was it because I told you I won’t be there one day? I can’t keep playing your games.”

“Games?” you spat, your heart beating madly against your chest. “You’re a monster! I don’t want to be here!” 

Matt stilled, his furrowed eyebrows softened and suddenly he let you go. You immediately pulled your hand close to your chest and rubbed your wrist. He slid off of you, got up and gestured towards the door. 

“Fine, leave then.” 

“What?”  

Your eyes were wide with shock, your mouth agape as you stared at him. 

“You heard me, leave. If you truly don’t want to be here just go.” 

You scoffed, “You expect me to believe that? You’ll come and find me–” 

“No I won’t,” he lowered his arm, turning his head towards you. “If you actually leave right now, you’ll never see me again. That’s a promise.” 

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Blood rushed to your head and white noise filled your ears. The thing about Matt was that he always followed through, be it a reward or punishment– he always followed through. Should you leave right now you wouldn’t ever hear from him again, never see him again, never…never be touched by him again… With shaky legs you started to move, first your toes touched the carpet then the entirety of your feet. You felt like you were dipping your toes into icy cold water. You got up, your legs like jello, and you started to walk. 

Deep down you were happy that Matt couldn’t see. You wouldn’t want him to see your eyes filled with glossy tears. With each step you took your condition became worse, you trembled as if you were cold, the inside of your palms and armpits sweating uncontrollably. He probably could smell that. You sobbed. Why weren’t you running? It felt like you were walking backwards. Your head spun and you stumbled. The door suddenly looked so tiny, would you even fit? Your heart throbbed, you wouldn’t see Matt Murdock again. This was it, the pain, the anger, it would all vanish as soon as you walked through that door. 

You whimpered, another muffled cry leaving your lips. Memories of Matt’s smile filled your head, the way he laughed when you told a story, the way he took care of you after sex, whether it be vanilla or kinky. He would always make you feel good. Prepared you breakfast before he left, bringing you your favorite brand of chocolate when he returned. He would make you feel like the most important person in his life. 

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to think clearly. No. He was a monster. He didn’t let you see anyone else, only Foggy and maybe sometimes Karen– but only if you were good enough. He would hit you when you ran away and accused you of enjoying it. He would manipulate you, berate you and trick you. He would make you feel like the most worthless person in his life. He would– He would– 

Just an inch away from the door you completely broke down, your knees scraping against the floor, you sobbed. Tears streamed down your face and your nose started to run, you sniffled as you wiped your face. Your wrists burned when you did. Then you felt him. Matt. Kneeling next to you with open arms, you buried your face into his chest, crying and sobbing as he held you. 

“Do you understand now?” his chest rumbling as he spoke. “You desperately want to be taken care of. Looked after by someone who loves you. No one ever has. You want to be protected. These are all the things I can give you, only if you stop resisting.” 

“I’m sorry,” you hiccuped, your hands clawing at his shirt. “Matt– It hurts.” 

“I know it does,” there was that gentle, understanding voice again. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be as long as you’re good.” 

You nodded, your face scraping against the fabric of his shirt. Matt picked you off of the floor and placed you on the bed, everything was a blur to you. You continued to cry, mumbling his name mixed with “sorry’s” and “thank you’s” . With the heel of your palms, you wiped away your tears, your cheek damp. You vaguely noticed him stripping you, only fully understanding you were naked when the cold air hit your burning skin. You hissed, finally lowering your arms. Matt was between your legs, a pocket knife in his hand as he spread your legs. Your eyes went wide, your body locking up as he went lower and lower. 

“What’s that for?” you asked, voice barely a whisper. 

“Punishment,” he replied. Your pulse quickened and he smiled, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “You did make me worry after all. It broke my heart. You might be sorry now but you know that I never skip punishments.” 

You tried to shimmy away from him but he held your thighs firmly, the back of the blade gently digging into your skin. He disappeared between your legs, his breath ghosting over your core. 

“Don’t worry you’ll feel good too. We’ll both feel good.” 

You choked, “Not now, please. I– I’m sorry,” 

“Like I said before, that’s not enough,” his tongue dipped between your folds. “I don’t want you to ever pull such a stunt again.” 

You gasped when you felt his lips fully against your cunt. His tongue delved deeper, tasting you and feeling how wet you were getting. The way he moved his mouth against you made you feel dizzy, your back arched as you bit your bottom lip. Despite trying to keep your silence a whimper escaped. Matt’s tongue trailed up to your clit, closing his damp lips around it he sucked and pushed the tip of his tongue against it. Your thighs trembled, closing around his face as you placed your hand over your mouth. Enjoying yourself felt like something you shouldn’t be doing. 

Matt pulled away from your core and you let out a breath of relief. You glanced up to him, his lips were glistening with your fluids, your heart thudded. 

“You know,” he began as his fingers traced the inside of your thighs. “You can be as quiet as you want. I know you’re enjoying this.” 

Without warning he shoved two fingers into you. You screamed, your hips bucking up to meet the digits. He laughed, pushing in even deeper. Your body trembled, tears flowing down your face. When he didn’t move his fingers further you whined, not thinking you start to roll your hips, moaning each time you pushed down. 

“That’s it, good girl, just fuck yourself on my fingers–” 

Much to your horror you felt the cold edge of a blade grazing against your stomach. You stopped, taking in short, sharp breaths. The sharp end softly dug into your skin and chafed. This time you held your breath, scared that if you made any sudden moves it would cut deeper. Whimpering, you balled your hands into fists, your nails digging into your skin. Matt pulled back the knife and you could feel the warmth of blood dripping down your skin. Then he curled his fingers, a jolt of pleasure running up and down your spine. You felt the blade on your skin once more, this time right below your breasts– Another cut. Matt thrusted his fingers at the same time, a scream ripped from your throat. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut but his breathing alerted you that Matt enjoyed this. Sharp little breaths. A quick inhale. His fingers twitched inside of you, making you throw your head back as the knife disappeared again. 

“Matt–” you sobbed. “Enough, please,” 

“Why?” he asked, the warm edge of the blade touching your skin once more. “You’re enjoying this,” 

He cut you again, scissoring his fingers at the same time. Your hips twitched up as you hoped for more. You were going insane. The pain and pleasure mixing together and forming a feeling indescribable. A knot formed in your throat. 

“I’m scared,” you whispered. 

This seemed to excite him. He started to fuck you with his fingers, your moans drowned out the squelching of his thrusts, the next time the blade dug into you a little bit deeper and cut you a little longer. You gasped, your lungs filling with air as your eyes shot wide open. Your stomach churned as heat gradually built in your core, your body quivered. Matt added another finger, the blade now cut your upper arm. You moaned. 

“See,” he said between pants. “Tell me what your body is saying. Confess.” 

“It feels good,” you shout automatically. “I’m going to cum– Can I cum?” 

Your voice was filled with desperation. This time the blade left your skin for good, his hand replacing it. Matt rubbed the blood into your skin, his hands were stained with red. Pleased, he hummed. 

“You can.” 

Your body was like on autopilot. With his blessing you came, hard. Your cunt gushing and squeezing around his fingers as your whole body quivered. He chuckled, still moving his fingers as overwhelming waves of pleasure continuously washed over you. You cried out his name. Your mind felt like it was floating, your body now completely numb with pain and ecstasy. 

When you finally came down from your orgasm, Matt pulled out his fingers. Wiping them on the sheets. You were panting, body still twitching. He crawled off of the bed and headed to the bathroom. You continued to lay there, your chest heaving as you tried to make sense of things. 

Faint moans could be heard coming from the bathroom and soon Matt emerged, seeming satisfied and happy. You noticed that he had discarded his shirt. He quickly picked up the first aid kit he had left on the bedside table, he cleaned your wounds as you cried. But at that moment you weren’t quite sure why you were crying. He shushed you with added words of affirmation. Matt’s voice soothed you. 

Matt laid next to you when he was done. He pulled you close, you winced but he didn’t care about your physical pain. His chest pressed into your naked, wounded body. Nuzzling the nape of your neck he placed a chaste kiss. 

“I forgive you,” he said. “You did good.” 

Your chest erupted with butterflies, your heart fluttering at his words. It shouldn’t have pleased you as it did but you didn’t care anymore. Matt would take care of you. Matt would love you. Matt would protect you.

Autumn breeze carries the scent of damp earth on golden leaves under a pearly-grey sky. Bucky’s thoughts become a haze of scarlet and amber as he frowns at the deserted safehouse in front of him.

“You comin’?” asks Sam as he rips through vines of ivy that had climbed the small building. Bucky grumbles as small acorns crack under his boots, the fragmented cupules trodden into the soft November mud as he stomps his way toward Sam.

Sunset wilted on the horizon in a wash of reds, yellows, blues, and soft violets. Bucky closed his eyes and listened to the crackling of their thrown-together fire. The small flame echoing under the duvet of the arising night as it sent sparks dancing into the breeze.

“This place is a piece of shit, Barnes,” Sam said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“It beats sleeping outside,” Bucky says as he folds his hands behind his head nonchalantly.

Sam looks around the ruined building; moonlight seeped in through the holes of the roof, bathing them both in silver starlight, and wild hearts of evergreen ivy overtook the cracked stone walls, “Yeah…” he deadpanned as a single moth flitted toward the fireflame.

Sam grimaced as he shifted atop the stained mattress, trying his best to avoid the mystery stains, “No lie, Barnes, I think I’d rather sleep outside."

“It’s not that bad,” the other said as he swatted a small spider that dangled from a thread of its silk.

Sam huffed, “I’m gonna go look for a sheet or somethin’, man, this is… Disgusting.”

Bucky shook his head as he kept his eyes closed, enjoying the moment of silence that came with Sam’s absence.

Bucky wasn’t exactly sure when he had fallen asleep, it had stalked up on him like a silent predator. Sinking its teeth and claws into his subconscious, turning the soft twilight hues of his dream into violent shocks of red as nightmarish screams and gunshots rang in his ears. In his nightmare, Bucky looks into a puddle of blood of a past person he’s murdered. He recognizes himself; the same steel-blue eyes, same chin, same nose. Yet he is not himself, in this ruby-painted reflection he is Him. The Winter Soldier.

His reflection smiles at him before aiming his gun and shooting. The puddled blood splashes back and splatters across Bucky’s face as he falls backward onto his back. He can feel it on him, the spilled blood burning through his skin and down to his bones. It’s on his face, his hands. All that blood is on his hands. Bucky’s heart begins to painfully pound against his ribcage as it threatens to beat out of his chest…

He wakes with a start, a cold sheen of sweat on his burning skin. Bucky’s chest heaves as he tries to calm his rapid breaths, to forget the nightmare that clung to his waking mind like a leech. He looked at his hands, they were clean, but he could still feel that warm burn. Bucky shook as he was yet again forced to relive the worst years of his entire life. He could still hear the screams, still, smell that metallic sharpness of blood, and he could still see their faces. All of their faces.

A loud and abrupt, guttural snore snaps Bucky out of his mind. He looks across the room to see Sam sleeping peacefully with an arm draped over his face and his mouth agape. Bucky stays like that for a while, envious as he just silently listens to the ebb and flow of Sam’s breaths, wondering what he could possibly be dreaming about. He stares up through the holed ceiling at the millions of stars above. He tries to count them, to lull himself back to sleep, but by the time he counted one-hundred stars, he knew it was pointless.

The firelight swayed and flickered as it clung to the last of the drywood. The golden ember shrinks as it consumes soot and the last splinters of wood. Outside, the moon had washed the forest browns and greens out to silver ink, as star-spun night wove itself through the trees. It was cold, much colder than it had been when the sun still shone. Frost laced the grass, the ice crystals crunching under Bucky’s boots as he made his way toward a smaller woodshed behind the house.

The smell of pine and earthy sap fills Bucky’s nose as he shuffles through the chopped firewood, the sugary sap sticking to his metal fingers as he creates a small pile. He kicks aside splintered pieces as he leaves, his foot catching on a raised flooring plank that sends him stumbling off balance. He groans as he trips over his dropped firewood, frustrated he rips out the floorboard, tossing it into the pile of chopped wood with every intention of burning the damn thing.

Buried within the floorboard was a black, bound journal that caught Bucky’s attention. He forgets about the wood and dying fire as he picks up the black book, unraveling the leather bind until the flattened pages are roughen with life. Inside were pages of photographs of the same woman, all dated with detailed descriptions. He flipped through them as something he could only describe as familiarity sparked within him. Even if his mind didn’t remember her, his heart certainly did.

Bucky found himself flushed as he stopped at a certain photograph of the Woman. She was caught undressing, wearing only her lace panties. He gulped as he stared at her body, unconsciously tracing over the curve of her bent over ass as if it was muscle memory. The butterflies that had been frozen for years thawed, from the warmth of his blossoming desire, and flitted around his lower abdomen. His breath hitched as he felt himself twitch in his pants.

He let his mind wander as he imagined the feel of your skin against his--he just knew it was smooth. He adjusted himself as he pictured how she’d look as she squirmed underneath him, how her hair would become tousled, how her lip would look caught between her teeth. Bucky shivered with excitement as he palmed himself through his jeans. He unzipped and pulled himself out as he leaned against the pine logs. He teased his tip, imagining her kittenish licks and lips wrapped around him. Bucky moaned as he started to fuck into his fist, keeping his hand tight and pumps hard and fast as he imagined it was her cunt clenching around him and not his hand. His breaths become shallow as he speeds up, the muscles in his lower abdomen and thighs flexing as he dives headfirst into an ocean of pleasure. He bites down on his left hand, to keep himself from shouting, as he orgasms. His cum shooting across the photograph of Her.

Bucky let his head fall back as he basked in the afterglow of his climax. No one had made him feel the way this woman did, he knew she was the one. He wanted her for himself, wanted to make her his. Bucky smiled to himself as he found her scribbled address under one of her photos, a photograph of her sleeping peacefully. He wasn’t sure if she’d still be there, but he’d find her anywhere--he knew He’d always find her…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up with a start as your alarm blared loudly in your ear. You rolled onto your side and looked at the clock on your phone screen. 8:00 AM--shit you were late for your shift at the cafe. You jumped out of bed and rushed around your apartment. Brushing your teeth in the shower and dressing as you ran out the door and down to the parking garage.

You ran down the street toward the subway station, stepping in a chewed piece of gum as you flew down the stairs, grimacing as a flyer stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Your stomach dropped as you fumbled around your bag for your MetroCard, you looked through your wallet, and your pockets, dread sunk your gut as you came up empty-handed. You ran to the booking clerk and opened your wallet, fuck, you forgot you used most of your cash for takeout last night. The man at the counter frowned at you as you slowly counted out your change. You met his eyes and mirrored his frown as you glanced at the clock.

You abandoned the subway station as you ran toward your job. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but you made it there in the end--albeit you were extremely late. Your manager met you with a stony scowl chiseled on his face as he worked behind the counter. Wasting no time, you slipped on your apron and joined him.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice missing his usual lively quips.

“Slept in,” you smiled as you handed a customer their drink, “Won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” he sighed, “This is your second strike, (Y/N). Need I remind you what happens if you reach three?”

“Nope. No reminder needed, Bob,”

The rest of the day went by as usual. The morning rush lulled to a quiet pause, and the lunch rush was as empty and quiet as ever. You wiped down the counter and machines, humming along to the radio as you cleaned. Just as the song ended, the tiny bell above the door chimed as a customer walked in.

“Hi, welcome to Cafe Diem, what can I get for you today?” you chirped.

“Just a black coffee, please,” the man said.

“Can I have your name, Sir?” you ask as you write down his order on the side of his plastic cup.

“Bucky,”

You smile at the man as you hand back his change, slightly blushing as you catch a glimpse of him under the brim of his hat. He was handsome, with clear blue eyes and a cleft chin. The man lowered his eyes and shuffled toward the end of the counter to wait for his drink. Even with your back turned you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you made his coffee. You turned back around and handed him his drink with a smile.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he said.

You paled for a moment before you remember your name-tag, “You’re welcome. Have a nice day, Sir.”

“Bucky,” he reminds you.

“Have a nice day, Bucky,” you repeat with a tightlipped smile and a curt nod.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You let out a tired yawn as you locked your apartment door, lazily tossing your bag onto the couch without so much as a second thought. After toeing off your shoes you went straight for the container of leftover Pad Thai from the night before. You checked your socials as you ate; leaving empty congratulations on your friend’s engagement photos and maternity shoots. You stared at your leftover noodles and frowned, here you were, a lonely college dropout that worked with high schoolers at a coffee shop, and there they were, getting married and having babies. Where the hell did you go wrong?

You tossed your container away and went to take a shower, dressing in an oversized, torn sweatshirt. You hissed and cursed as you stepped down on something hard and plastic as you came out of the bathroom. You kicked it out from under the rug, sending it skidding across the floor and under your bed. You bent down and grabbed it, your name-tag. You thought back to this morning and to your workday, you couldn’t really remember if you had even put it on--but you certainly knew you hadn’t taken it off.

You sat on your bed, just staring at the piece of plastic with your name on it when your apartment went totally dark. You flipped your light switches on and off and got nothing each time. Using the flashlight from your phone you walked around your dark apartment and out into the hallway. Mrs. Jackson, your sweet old neighbor poked her head out at the same time.

“Looks like the entire building’s power is out,” she frowned.

“Has this happened before?” you asked the longtime tenant.

She tapped her fingers against her cane as she thought, “Not for a while, and that was only during a bad storm.”

You stayed out in the hallway with her as she rambled on until she finally lost her train of thought. You locked your door and made your way back to your room, stopping in the living room as you noticed an open window. The neon lights of the city illuminated your dark apartment through your billowing curtains as a chilled breeze drifted in. You just stood there, wondering when you had opened it or if you had just forgotten to close it. Something in your gut screamed at you to get the hell out of there, that you did not forget to close that damn window because you never opened it in the first place. But you ignored it; these past couple of days hadn’t been the best and you were stressed and burnt-out, it could’ve easily slipped your mind with the chaos that was this past week.

You felt worse as you closed and locked it, it didn’t feel right. Your hands shook with anxiety as you debated on whether you should go next door and stay at Mrs. Jackson’s for the night or not. You’ve been over there plenty of times to feed her cat when she was out of town visiting her grandkids, and she liked you enough to drop off fresh blueberry pies to you every time she baked them, so she wouldn’t mind having you sleep on her couch for tonight, would she? You stared at your own neon-lit reflection as you thought it over. You’re just being paranoid, you thought to yourself, just go to bed and forget about it. So, that’s what you did. You went to bed.

You tossed and turned, tangling yourself in your blanket as you bent and unbent your leg to find that particular cool spot. Just as you got comfortable and were about to fall asleep, a foreign creaking woke you. You lay frozen with wide eyes as you listened to the creaking come closer and closer. Your heart pounded with fear as you heard them come to a stop, you slid to the floor and tiptoed toward the door, quietly twisting the lock in place.

You bent down and looked underneath your bedroom door, but there was nothing. No shadow, no feet. Creak… You froze as you heard the footsteps once more, your heart dropped as you finally realized where they had been coming from. You stood and turned toward your bathroom, praying that you were wrong. The doorknob seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as you slowly turned it, your heart beating frantically in your chest as you pushed the bathroom door open. Nothing…

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding as you looked into your empty bathroom. You laughed at yourself for being so irrationally scared, the complex was old as shit, of course, it was going to creak.

Click. You froze as you felt something hard press into the back of your head.

“Turn around and don’t scream, doll,” said a voice from behind.

You stiffly did as you were told and gasped as you came face to face with a gun. Your breaths quickened and your heart pounded as you recognized the face of the man from the coffee shop.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

You nodded stiffly.

“What’s my name?”

You shook, then. What was his name? What the fuck was his goddamn name?! “I–I don’t remember,” you sobbed.

Bucky frowned at that. He brought his gun down to your mouth and parted your lips with its muzzle, “You don’t remember,” he mocked as he shoved the barrel down your throat, making you choke around it.

He kept the gun in your mouth as he led you backward until the back of your knees met your bed. You sat down and sniffled as tears streaked down your cheeks. He wiped them away with metal fingers and cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“My name’s Bucky, (Y/N),” he told you, “Are you going to remember it?”

You nodded and he smiled as he removed his gun from your mouth.

“I want you to undress for me,” he said abruptly, catching you off guard.

You gawked up at him as you registered his request. Bucky just stood there, watching and waiting with his unwavering aim. Slowly, you began to do as he asked. Reluctantly stripping out of your sweatshirt, you held onto it tightly, refusing to let it fall completely. Bucky wrenched it out of your hands, letting it drop to the floor.

He motioned for you to stand and turn around for him, and you did. You went rigid as you felt his hand on your back, gently but sternly bending you over until you arched. You heard him purr as he set his gun down on your nightstand. His hands were hot and cold on your skin as he squeezed and spread your cheeks. You choked on a sob as you felt the cold metal fingers of his left-hand poke and prod at your tight ring.

“‘M gonna fuck your ass, sweetheart,” he husked, “But first,” he paused to haul you up by your neck, pressing your back against his chest, “You’re gonna suck my cock.”

He manhandled you until you were on all fours in front of him. You watched in horror as he undressed, unable to look away as he pulled his hard length out. Bucky grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you closer to him, tapping the tip of his hot, wet, cock against your tight lips. You trembled as he forced his way past your lips and into your mouth. You gagged as he reached the back of your throat.

Your hands slapped against his strong thighs as he fucked your mouth. His free hand wrapped around your throat as he roughly humped in and out of you, over and over.

“Fuck… That’s it, (Y/N),” he moaned, “You’re suckin’ me so good, doll.”

You spluttered as spit splattered across Bucky’s pelvis and dribbled down your chin. Your vision started to dot as he held your head still on his cock, burying himself deep down your throat. His breathing was uneven as he thrust himself as deep as your throat could take him. And just as you were about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, he pulled out and pushed you back down to your stomach. You clawed at the sheets and tried to squirm away from him, but he just pulled you right back down by your ankles.

He crawled over you, trapping you under his weight. You began to panic as you felt his spit-coated cock curled up against your ass. Bucky forced your knees apart as he raised your hips, placing a hand on your back to force you into an arch. He slapped your ass, once, then twice, each time making you yelp in pain. Using all of your strength you launched yourself forward from out under him and over the edge of the bed.

You scrambled to your feet and tried to reach the door, but immediately stopped as you heard the cocking of his gun. Bucky tsk-tsked you as he forced you back down onto your stomach.

He pressed the muzzle to your temple and sighed, “You do that again, doll, and I’m gonna go visit that sweet little old lady next door. Understand?”

You nodded.

“Tell me you understand, (Y/N), say ‘I understand, Bucky’,” he demanded.

“I–I understand, Bucky,” you sniffled.

You cried out as he cracked his metal hand across your ass, the pain shooting straight down in-between your legs. You were putty in his hands as he bent you to his desire, spreading your legs wide and arching your back to its limit. You let out a panicked cry as you felt him spread your cheeks and press the head of his swollen cock against your tight hole. You desperately clawed at the sheets, ripping them from their tucked corners as you tried to get away.

“No,” you shrilly cried as you felt the pressure of him entering you. You cried out into the mattress as he thrust into you. Bucky grunted with each snap of his hips. He adjusted his hold on you and began to rut faster, harder. Your teeth sink into your pillow, whimpering each time Bucky pounded into your ass.

The clapping of your skin against his duetted with your voices. His pleasured moans and your pained cries. Bucky’s hand wrapped around your hips and between your legs as he hammered into you. Your body was set alight as you felt him rub your clit, a wave of pleasure washing over you. You moaned as his fingers entered your wettening cunt. He rammed them in and out, as he matched the relentless tempo of his hips.

The line between pleasure and pain had been crossed as you moaned out. Bucky’s thumb rubbed firm and sinful patterns against your bundle of nerves as his fingers and cock thrust in and out of you in perfect synchrony. The coil deep within your belly threatened to snap with every flick of his wrist and every snap of his hips.

“Say my name,” he growls in your ear.

“Bucky,” you whine.

He rubs your clit faster, more erratically as he stokes your everburning fire, “Louder, sweetheart.”

“Bucky!” you cry out, moaning and whimpering until you finally come undone beneath him. Your body stiffens as you convulse uncontrollably. His hand never stops, rubbing your swollen clit until you burst; your wetness soaking his hand and your inner thighs. You cry out as he overstimulates your body, coaxing another squirting orgasm from you as he continues to pound into you as you lay fucked out beneath him. You feel him stiffen above you as he cries out your name, his warm release overflowing out of your ass and down the backs of your thighs.

Bucky pulls himself from your hole and gives your ass another firm slap. You cry into your pillow, ashamed at how your body had betrayed you--at how he so easily used your body. Through your sniffles and hiccups, you’re only vaguely aware of the shutter and flash of a camera behind you. Only fully realizing when he rolls you onto your back to take a polaroid photo of your post-orgasmed, tear-streaked face.

“This one’s for the books,” he panted, “Ready for our next shoot?”

A sigh unconsciously slipped past your lips. It was foolish of you to ever think you were able to deflect his worry and anger. Despite knowing that he only wanted what was best for you, you still found it difficult to simply point fingers but that was a flaw he was able to fix.

Reluctantly, you recollected the events of the morning:

"Some guy was running from the cops and he pushed me to make way for himself. Honestly, it's nothing much. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Anymore?

For a moment, Matt's mind was hazy, filled only with the storm of blood rushing inside his head. Someone dared to treat you as a literal push-over and all you were concerned about was the fact that it didn't hurt anymore. His skin began to burn, a tingle run through his fingers.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

A car was passing by the building, the light from its headlights crawled through the dirty windows and lit up your face for a moment. During those few seconds, when your face was bright enough to be seen in the darkness of the night, it seemed as if the whole world was asking you why you would lie to the man that loved you more than anyone ever could. The guilt further gnawed on your heart. Although he couldn't see it, Matt knew perfectly well that you were biting the inner part of your lip - the longish pause told him so.

"Matt, love, you have so much going on already, I wasn't about to add more to it," you spoke softly while running the back of your hand against his face.

It angered him to hear the affectionate nickname - how could he ever be eligible for your love if he wasn't the one suffering your pains? He must have been a truly awful human to greedily accept your heart without fulfilling his duty.

"You have to tell me when you're hurt." Somehow, he managed to partially swallow his growing disdain for the unnamed culprit to give you the tenderness you deserved. Yes, he couldn't let his own anger leave a mark on your ethereal grace. "I just want to take care of you." He gently kissed the coarse scab on the side of your hand, feeling the hateful bile rise to his mouth once again when his lips brushed against the wound.

Matt didn't sleep that night - the angels of vengeance didn't let him. Inside his head, between angered screams and insults, he was playing out various scenarios regarding the demise of the lowlife that dared to lay their hand on you.

He was going to start his day by paying a visit to the police station.

"I'm sorry!" the man cried out. His swollen eyelids could barely remain open. Along with his words, blood and saliva left his mouth. Sharp inhales elicited wheezes as cold air flew through his broken nose. "I don't know what I've done but I'm sorry! I'll be a better man! Please just... Just don't kill me."

"You don't know?" Matt repeated slowly as though he couldn't believe in the words he had just heard. The bile of disdain foamed at his mouth and for a moment it felt as if his humanity reluctantly looked away in fear or shame. "You hurt someone you don't deserve to even look at."

Staring at that bloody, hardly recognizable face, he found himself reminiscing about the Beatitudes as if Heaven's angels themselves reminded him of his holy duty:

"6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,     for they will be filled."

And who else could he be than the beacon of justice? To punish the wicked sinners that dared to taint your grace? He might be just a hand that bears the sword but angels, too, were primarily warriors.

"Do you believe in God?" he whispered to the trembling, barely conscious man. The criminal needed a few seconds to fully comprehend the sentence he had just heard, struggling to form coherent sentences in his current state.

"N-no, sir." The blood filling his mouth, and a few teeth too perhaps, made the short sentence slurred. It could well be due to the dislocated jaw.

"Then it's high time you do."

A panicked scream tore through the nighttime traffic of New York City. Appearing like Lucifer falling out of his home, the man flew helplessly towards the ground. With the sound of bones cracking upon contact with dirty concrete, Matt's heart eased slightly: maybe the mutt's wrongs hadn't been made right but he wasn't going to hurt you again. The man's pathetic whimpers were music to Matt's ears.

He was excellent at sneaking in and so you didn't stir awake when he slipped under the covers. Matt carefully wrapped his arm around you and pulled your body closer to his. Maybe if he held you tight enough, no malice of this rotten and undeserving world could ever reach you again. When he whispered those words in your ear, he was unsure who he was making the promise to - you, God or maybe himself?:

"I can keep you safe. I promise."

“Oh, gladly doll,” he murmured. He yanked everything off your legs before he lowered himself on his knees. “Catch,” he called to Steve as he threw your lacy panties in the broad supersoldier’s direction. You didn’t miss as Steve pocketed them.

“What the hell are you-.” You cut yourself off with your own squeal as Bucky licked a stripe up your folds. 

You began to buck your hips at the sensation in hopes of throwing him off and cutting your embarrassment short, but his metal arm came up and laid across your stomach. Bucky inhaled and let out a groan. “Holy shit you smell good, doll.” He flattened his tongue and licked another stripe before burying his face in your cunt and zeroing in on your clit. 

You whimpered as you felt his warm tongue circle your needy clit. The sounds that echoed throughout the room were lewd as he ate you out as if it were his last meal. 

“Bucky oh my God, please,” you begged as another slurping sound resonated throughout the room, but whether it was for him to stop or keep going, you couldn’t tell anymore.

“Taste. So. Good.” He said between each lick to your pussy. He inserted two thick, calloused fingers into your hole and pulled his mouth away, noticing your whine. “You say you don’t want this but your cunt says otherwise doll.” He smirked, and began to move his fingers faster, the squelching sounds seemingly spurring him on.

He put his mouth back down on you and began attacking you with more vigor. With each swipe over your sensitive nub, you could feel the coil inside of you begin to form. It was only when he wrapped his lips around your lips and began to also suck did you feel it tighten. He hummed against you and the vibrations went straight to your core. 

“Fuck Bucky. Yes,” you cried. He delivered another harsh suck and your hand flew to his hair.

Even as he ate you out you could feel his cocky grin form against you as you began to grind your hips to push you closer to the edge. A few minutes later, you came. Hard. You moaned as white hot pleasure overtook your whole body, covering the shame of cumming even though ten minutes ago you were practically recoiling at Bucky’s touch.

Bucky pulled away, mouth glistening with your arousal, and watched as your cunt pulsed and your body muscles contracted in your post orgasm haze. Thirty seconds later, you were hit with a wave of clarity, but before you could grab you clothes and get the fuck out of the room, a voice came from beside Bucky.

“Finally,” Steve said, and you jumped, not knowing he had moved from his spot. You noticed he’d taken his shirt off and there was now a very prominent bulge in his slacks.

You began to inch away from the man. “Steve, I-,” you began.

“Call me Captain, sweetheart,” he mused as he grabbed you by your hair and maneuvered you so you were standing, your front against the table. He pressed himself against your ass. “You know, we still need to fix your bratty attitude.” And with that his hand was flat against your back and bending you over the table. You grit your teeth as the table dug into your pelvis. “What do you think Buck? 10?”

“I would’ve said 20 but it’s not like a call the shots around here,” Bucky said, shrugging.

“What?” you said, and you were about to turn around to see what they were talking about, but a harsh smack to your ass quickly stopped you. 

“Count,” Steve growled while his hand came down for another.

“One!” You yelped.

Another hit to your ass. “One, what?” he asked in a teasing voice. He was mocking you.

“One, Captain,” you said with as much venom as you could.

“Good girl,” he mused before he delivered another to your other cheek.

“Two, Captain.” You were embarrassed at how your voice came out as a moan.

Eight more later, your ass was stinging as he rubbed it with a large hand before that same hand dipped into your folds to feel your arousal. “Gosh, you really must be such a slut if you got wet to that,” he chuckled.

He held his digits in front of you. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You stared daggers up at him but opened your mouth anyways, licking your own arousal from his fingers. Steve let out a satisfied hum before he pulled his fingers away.

“Now, what to do about that mouth of yours, hmm?” 

He walked around the table behind you, and you bit back bile as you heard him work his zipper down. 

“Turn her around Buck,” the Captain ordered, and in no time, Bucky was on you. Despite your struggles he manhandled you onto your hands and knees on the table so you were turned around facing Steve’s now hard member. “Suck.”

When you did nothing but stare back up at him, a harsh slap was delivered to your face. Steve bent down so he was eye level with you.

“You’re gonna listen to your fuckin’ Captain and be a good little slut and suck your Captain’s dick, or I’ll choke you till your unconscious and fuck your throat anyways,” he seethed.

Hesitantly you opened your mouth, and Steve shoved his cock in all the way, groaning when he hit the back of your throat.

“See Buck? Women are all the same nowadays. All bark and no bite. Just need to be shown their place and then they become good little fucktoys. Mindless whores.” 

Steve talking to Bucky right over you while he slid his dick in and out of his mouth made your face burn in humiliation, and even worse, turned you on, but you had little time to process it as Bucky’s hands were on your ass shortly, spreading it to get a good view of your pussy.

“Fuck Stevie, she’s wet.”

“Guess- you gotta- help her out.” Steve’s head was thrown back, face contorted into an expression of pure bliss, as he managed to string together a couple words to reply.

Ignoring your whines of protest around Steve’s dick, Bucky freed his own shaft and jerked himself off a few times before impaling you. You screamed a little at the intrusion that burned you walls, but Steve just ignored you and revelled in the vibrations it sent down his dick.

“Fuck she’s tight,” Bucky moaned, and began moving.

You whines and whimpers soon turned to moans, mixing with the obscene noises the two supersoldiers were making. Seconds and minutes began to blend together and you lost track of time as Steve and Bucky showed little mercy on you, chasing their own pleasure. As Bucky’s thrusts grew more brutal and quicker, your cunt began to clench around him.

“Shit. I think she’s about to come.” Bucky let out a breathy laugh as he picked up his pace.

“Told you. Mindless whore,” Steve replied, as both his hands were locked in your hair, pulling your mouth up and down his length.

At Steve’s words and Bucky’s renewed vigor, the dam inside you broke. 

“That’s it doll, milk my cock.” Bucky felt you practically squeeze the life out of his cock as you gushed around him, and his thrusts began to stutter. “Gonna. Come.” And with one final harsh thrust from him he bottomed inside you, cock twitching while his cum spilt deep into you.

Steve gave a few more thrusts into you throat before he spilt down your throat. He looked down at you and chuckled.  

“You look so good like this; Lips wrapped around my cock while you swallow my cum.”

___________________________________________________________________________

It had been a few minutes. Bucky and Steve were tucking themselves away back into their pants while you sat on the table catching your breath.

“Told you bringing in Bucky would be fun, sweetheart,” Steve said, cupping your cheek as he looked at you, panting and completely out of it. “But did you really purposely ignore my orders on a mission just to get me riled up?”

You sat up on the table. “I like it better when you're rough,” you giggled before giving him a peck on the lips. “And you…” You pointed a finger at Bucky. “If I find any bruises from that damn metal hand of yours, I’ll kill you.”

“I told you earlier, you really think you could take me?” Bucky teased, mouth in his classic lopsided grin.

A knock on the meeting room door sounded through the room before you could make a snarky comeback.

You could feel the tension between the two of them from across the room. If you made your way to your office and closed the door, you could still feel it. One day it would all snap. You just knew it. 

They had first started this staring contest at the bar. You would never forget that day. It was odd to see Bruce Wayne out for a drink by himself. His face was as hard as stone, and his brown eyes narrowed. He drummed his fingers against the blank granite counter. Zemo was on the other end of the bar. You hadn't noticed him until he approached Bruce. Then, as the days went on, they slowly started to sit closer and closer until they took a table together. 

From a glance, it was hard to tell they hated each other. When they talked, they gave each other painted smiles. But you could see the cold stares and hear the low tones of their voices. In fact, you were probably the only one who was aware of their disdain for each other.

Why they came to your restaurant to have these odd quiet stare downs was beyond you. Sometimes they would call you over to settle a minor dispute. It was always something incredibly petty, like if Superman could defeat the Hulk or if red wine was better then white wine. The arguments never ended with a winner; you didn't care enough to agree with either of them. 

That night you really didn't have time to stand there and nod politely. It was hectic, and everything seemed to be falling apart. Maybe if they weren't so busy with their stupid dick-measuring contests, they would have noticed and left you alone. Perhaps they noticed but just didn't care. 

"Mr. Wayne wants to see you," said the waitress you had assigned to their table. You had hired the most gorgeous woman you could find solely to put her at that table. You hoped and prayed that she would be enough that you could catch a break tonight. Looks like they were stupid as well as blind. 

You groaned and ran a hand over your face. You were at the front of the restaurant trying to figure out how to deal with a double booking. 

"I'm so sorry, I know you are busy. But it's Bruce Wayne, the Bruce Wayne. I tried to ask him if there was anything wrong with the service, but he wouldn't tell me. I think I might have poured the wine on the wrong side. I'm so sorry, I'm still trying to figure that out!" The poor girl would not stop playing with her hair and constantly shifted from one leg to the other.

You held a hand to stop her. "It's nothing to do with you. This is just something he does. Don't sweat it. I can take care of it from here. Could you tell Andrew to come deal with this double booking? If he gives you any shit, be sure to let him know that I know he screwed it up."

She gave a stiff nod. Her lips were pursed in a thin line, and her eyes were wide.  

"Thank you, but if it's about the wine..."

"If it is, it's the least of my worries. I will honestly probably forget it two seconds after I hear about it. Now go."

She hurried off, and you gave a deep sigh. You printed off one check for each of them, hoping you might be able to use it to get them to leave. You really needed an open table. You put your pen down slowly, savoring each second you were not at that table. Running a hand over the smooth black table, you reminded yourself you put with this rich people shit to have nice table. You finally had no choice but to make your way over. They were deep in conversation when you arrived. 

"Good evening gentlemen, is there something I can help you with?" When you spoke, their gazes snapped towards you. It was as if they were racing to look at your first. Both of them always gave you unnerving stares. You never got used to it. 

"Ah yes, it seems we have another bet that only you can settle," Zemo said, smirking at you over his wine. 

"Yes, we need to prove to the Baron here that he doesn't understand people half as well as he claims," Bruce's lips pulled into a smile, and he raised his eyebrows. 

"Interesting that you would claim to have a superior knowledge of human behavior," Zemo leaned back in the black cushioned seat. "After all, you spend most of your time in the minds of criminals."

This was the strangest of all of the things Zemo had said about Bruce. You couldn't understand why he would assume Bruce did that. Bruce never spoke about hobbies; you assumed he didn't have time for them. If Zemo was trying to make Bruce look bad in front of you, he was wasting his time. 

Bruce's jaw tensed, and his fake smile fell. His hand gripping his drink tightened. Zemo's dark eyes brightened, and his smirk grew wider. He took his time basking in the tense silence before speaking again.

"Maybe you think so highly of your claim because you think this beautiful lady is a criminal. In which case, you couldn't be farther from the truth. She is much too sweet for such things." Zemo gestured towards you with his glass. His eyes brazenly ran up and down your form. 

"Don't put words in my mouth," Bruce said in a low voice. His tone sent a shiver down your spine. You were scared of him, and his words were not directed at you. "If we apply the same logic to you, do you assume she is a super soldier? Your study of them is obsessive at best."

They were threatening each other, but you weren't sure what they were threatening each other with. The tension was so thick you found it hard to breathe. You found yourself searching for a way to relieve the pressure. 

"Well, maybe I am both a super soldier and a criminal," you said with a nervous laugh. But, if anything, the tension thickened. You could see out of the corner of your eye one of your waiters. He was frantically pacing, waiting for you to end your conversation. "Yes, see, I am both. Now, if that is all... "You moved your arm to set the check down. 

"Apologies, it seems we have gotten off track. Unfortunately, that was not the bet we needed to settle," Zemo said with a sigh. You moved your hand back and groaned inwardly. 

"We have a more pressing question," Bruce said, his shoulders relaxing only slightly. You weren't sure what was more pressing than super soldiers and criminals. 

"How long has it been since you've had someone in your bed, darling?" Zemo asked with a sly smirk. His tone suggested he was asking about something trivial, but his eyes said otherwise.

Your eyes snapped into a glare, and your fingers gripped the check tightly. They had both worn your patience to dust. Their money and prestige seemed to disappear before your eyes. Now you were just dealing with rich and entitled men.

"I would say six months given that you have recently developed this horrible habit of sleeping in your office," Zemo continued. Your eyes narrowed. Either your employees were gossiping, or Zemo had gone out of his way to know that. "Mr. Wayne here is adamant that it's longer."

"Fourteen months," Bruce said, giving a firm nod. You felt your nostrils flare. Bruce was absolutely right, and it unnerved you. Your last relationship had not been something you advertised since your his boss.

"I simply cannot believe it has been that long," Zemo shook his head in mock surprise. "Not for a beautiful woman such as yourself." 

"That's flattering, but that information is not important," you said, shaking your head. 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Bruce said, but that did not help you feel better. "It's a way of proving who understands you better."

"I don't see how this is at all relevant to my restaurant," you said, folding your arms across your chest. "I work here, and I let my work speak for itself." 

"Such confidence," Zemo held up his glass in mock salute. "Spoken like a woman who has been able to seduce a man in the past six months."

"Sounds more like a woman who has had nothing but work on her mind for fourteen months," Bruce countered. It was as if he couldn't help himself. If he had a chance to prove Zemo wrong, he had to take it. 

You wished they were back to the Hulk vs. Superman argument. At least that had nothing to do with you. It was challenging to find a way to politely tell these two influential customers to shut up. 

"Not all of us have hobbies that take up our evenings," Zemo said as his gaze traveled back to the man across from him. "Most of us can work and indulge in whatever pleases us afterward. This is something you wouldn't understand, which is why your number is wrong."

There it was again, the tensed jaw and steely glare. "Most of us have hobbies that don't involve the takedown of an organization. This would mean one can stay in one place and take time to get to know people. Fourteen is a more realistic number. But it's something you would not be able to understand."

"You're both wrong," you said with such authority you almost believed yourself. You slammed the check on the table. "I've been fucking my head chef in my office for months now." 

It was a complete lie, but you didn't care. It was the only way you felt you could take back control of the situation. You quickly turned and stalked off. The waiter you had seen from before walked with you. 

"Adam is having another breakdown," he whispered, his breath coming out in pants as he tried to keep up with you. "He's threatening to quit again."

Anger boiled inside of you. Not at Adam, your head chef couldn't help himself. It was all directed at those two idiots who took up so much of your time for nothing. 

You stopped at the black counter of the bar. You stared at the beautiful bottles on display behind the counter; the green lights twinkled behind them to make them look even more enticing. Of course, you knew it was all for show, but it made you so badly want a drink.

"I can take care of Adam," you said after taking a deep breath. You turned and looked him dead in the eye. He took a step back as you took a step towards him. He seemed to shrink in your presence. "But I am not to be disturbed by anything else. Not even if we are being robbed. If the restaurant is on fire, I don't want to know until the fire department gets here."

He stared back at you. You took the silence poorly.

"Well? Is that understood?" you snapped. 

He nodded frantically. "P..perfectly. Yes, understood. Sorry!" He stammered out a few more words and scampered away. You immediately regretted your outburst. You tried to treat your staff kindly. Your customers were all upper class, and your team had to deal with their oddities all the time. The two men you had just dealt with were a perfect example. 

You made a mental note to apologize later. But, for now, you had a fire to put out. 

-------

Adam was having a fit about the rosemary. It took way too long to get him to calm down. Then, after he had, only you could go to his apartment and pick the right sprigs. Only you. No one else. Because that was how Adam was. 

You grumbled under your breath the way there and the way back. If Adam weren't such a genius, you would have fired him, but not before making his life miserable. 

As you had feared, all of the issues had piled up when you returned. Even after closing, you couldn't make your way to your office. You were constantly interrupted by employees. They requested time off, complaints about other co-workers, complaints about a customer-it was never-ending. 

They finally let you be when their shifts were over. You found yourself alone for the rest of the night, as usual. It was three in the morning. You would need to go to the market in three hours. Adam would only have the best fish. And if you wanted him to work, it better be the best. 

You used to have other people doing these things. But they had all slowly left. The first one had been your now ex. It had been hard to sit down and find a replacement for him. Now it was impossible to find the time. And training someone to pick good salmon and deal with snootty customers took even more time you didn't have. 

This was why you had started sleeping in your office, only going back to your apartment to shower before lunch. How had Zemo known that? Was it just that obvious? 

You made your way to lock the front door. Tugging on it two times to make sure it was secure. Then you went to the bar to indulge in one of those pretty bottles behind the counter. You mixed a drink with expert ease. You gave a content sigh as you poured it into a glass. 

"How does a naughty little thing like you look so sweet?" A cold, rough voice purred from behind you. 

You jumped, startled. Half of your drink splattered onto the floor. You gave a dejected sigh. It took you a full second before you remembered. No one was supposed to be here.

You spun around to see Zemo sitting on a barstool directly across from you. His fingers were laced together, resting on the counter. He gave you a satisfied smirk as your eyes widened. You hadn't heard him come in or sit down. You gave a hard blink hoping it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But he was still there. Anger and fear rushed through you.

"We're closed," you said, mustering up as much authority as you could. 

"But the bar still seems to be in service," he said with such confidence that you doubted yourself for a split second.

"This is my bar. I can use it as I please," you said, turning away from him again. You took a towel and bent down to clean up your mess. You needed to do something with this nervous energy. 

"Having a drink before driving home, I would say that's very naughty. What would the staff say?" 

You could feel his eyes on your backside. You jerked up to glare at him but missed him in the act. Instead, his eyes met your own. 

"What would the police say when I call them?" you snapped. His thin lips stretched into a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. Every one of your customers probably had Gotham's finest paid off in some way. You should have known better. You sighed and shook your head. "I don't have time for this. Please leave."

"Why don't you pour me a drink, and we can have a pleasant chat?" he countered. 

"No. I only have so many hours before I have to work again," you grumbled, whipping down invisible spots off the counter in front of you. "If you leave now, I will maybe let you back in tomorrow evening for another one of your dates with Mr. Wayne."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his smile fall. His entire face seemed to tense at the mere mention of Bruce. 

"If I could shake off Bruce's vigilant presence, we would have had this conversation much sooner. But, lucky for us, some very dangerous people broke out of Arkham Asylum tonight. So I have you all to myself." 

This time you turned to face him. Your eyebrows raised. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

He gave a lazy shrug. "Let me pour you a proper drink," he said, sliding off the barstool and making his way over to you. 

Your legs were frozen. All you could do was stare in horror as he made his way to your spot behind the counter. He had so easily positioned himself right in front of the only way out. He took one of your most expensive bourbons off the shelf. He looked at the label and slowly poured some in a glass. 

You could only watch his slow, methodical movements. You toyed with the idea of just pushing him out of the way. But you weren't sure you were strong enough for that to do any good. 

He was soon right in front of you. He was so close you could smell the bourbon from the glass and a whiff of his cologne. 

"I haven't seen you try this. It's one of your better choices," Zemo held out the drink expectantly. When you didn't take it right away, he took a sip from it himself. "Here, I'm sure it will be more palatable to you now."

You looked down at the drink. Your stomach was tied up in complicated knots. You were finally beginning to understand what he was here for. You were embarrassed you hadn't realized sooner and terrified that you couldn't get him to stop. 

"Look, Zemo. I'm not interested. Please just leave," you said, trying to keep the fear out of your voice. 

He took a small step closer. Your low back was pressed against the lower counter; it began digging painfully into you. But you continued to push against it to get as far back as you physically could.

"You just need something to loosen you up," he said in a low voice. He took your hand and pressed the glass into it. It dug sharply into your palms. "Let me help you relax." He guided the glass to your lips. 

You let the liquid slide down your throat. You kept your eyes wide and your gaze on him. The drink burned your throat. The situation was so odd, you didn't even realize how it tasted. He finally pulled back the glass. 

"Isn't that better?" he asked. He put a hand on your cheek and studied your face with sharp brown eyes. He made you feel small and weak. He looked down at you like he knew so much about you. He probably even knew things you didn't know.

"Look, Zemo I…" he cut you off with a harsh kiss. The glass fell to the floor with a piercing shatter. Your eyes were wide in shock, and your heart dropped. You had not expected him to just kiss you. No one had ever kissed you like this like they owned you. 

His hands wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weakly gripped at his suit jacket, desperate for anything to hold onto. You heard him give a sharp exhale through his nose at the simple touch. His hands began to wander lower down your back. His tongue gently pressed against your lips. 

This was all too much for you. You grabbed more of his suit jacket in your hands. Finally, you gave a sharp tug pulling him towards the left, freeing yourself from being trapped against the counter. Then you pushed. 

You heard a large crash, but you didn't stick around to see how much money you had just lost. You just ran. The kitchen was too far away, and you did not have the keys to unlock the front door. So you dashed down the short hallway to your office. Your master plan was to barricade yourself in there and use your desk phone to call for help.

You slammed the door shut and locked it quickly. You let out short, desperate breaths. The office was pitch black. It felt like the darkness was pressing against your shoulders and neck. You took a deep, shaky breath. You were trying to slow your breathing so you could hear noises beyond the door. 

You pressed your ear against the door, your fingers still gripping the lock tightly. It took a moment before your heart stopped beating wildly. You heard nothing beyond the familiar hum of the building. Even so, you were going to push your desk in front of the door and call the police. You may even call Adam, who could be formidable if he was high out of his mind. 

You pulled away from the door and flicked on the light switch. When you turned, you were startled back against the door by a large figure sitting at your desk chair. You let out a strangled yelp, and your hands flew to your mouth. 

Bruce Wayne was sitting at your desk. He leaned back in the chair as if you had invited him to use it. The corner of his mouth twitched into a mischievous smile. But the small smile was far from his cold dark eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you gasped out; all sense of propriety was gone. 

"I could ask you the same question," he said, giving a shrug. "You really should be at your apartment. You closed an hour ago."

You had already played this game with Zemo, and you were not going to do it again. Your eyes snapped into a glare. You charged towards your desk, reaching for the phone. He leaned forward and snatched your wrist. 

He slowly stood and circled the desk. His hand and eyes stayed on you. He was so much stronger and menacing than you had thought. You immediately felt smaller in his presence. 

As soon as he was in range, his other hand flew to your neck. You let out a squeak. He didn't squeeze, but just the feel of his large hand around your throat made you catch your breath. He roughly guided you to the wall and shoved you against it.

You let out a gasp. You used your free hand to try and pry his cold, rough hand off your neck. Your other arm was pinned against the wall. The look in his eyes made your stomach drop. He was imagining what he was going to do to you. You weren't sure what it was, but you didn't want to play out this fantasy with him.

"Let me go," you whimpered, digging your nails in his wrist. 

"I don't see that drug addict chef here. He's at home high as a kite as he always is," his, voice was low, and he tightened his grip on your throat. You let out a strangled cry. "Now, why would you lie about something like that? Are you purposely trying to push my buttons?"

You shook your head as best as you could. Tears were beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. 

"You see when you tell me things like that. It sounds like you are just begging me to come to your office and find out if it's true." His hand released the arm that was pinned against the wall. He let his hand travel down your waist, sending shivers down your spine. You used your free hand to join the desperate attempt to get his hand off your throat. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you choked out. 

"I think you do," he growled. His hand was sliding dangerously close to the area in between your legs. "I can show you just how much you…."

The lock on the door clicked. You and Bruce turned towards the sound at the same time. You had an idea of who it might be. But all the same, you prayed to anything that could hear that it was help.

When Zemo opened the door, Bruce's grip on your throat tightened. You let out a strangled gasp in response. Zemo titled his head. He looked more puzzled than surprised at the scene before him. He let out a sharp breath through his nose.

"This seems a tad aggressive, but I get it she's a delicious little thing," Zemo purred. Then his eyes snapped into a glare. "But if you indulge in this any further, I will let all of Gotham know of your late-night hobbies. And I am not referring to assaulting a certain restaurant owner."

Bruce finally released his hands from your neck. You let out a gasp and began to cough. He barely gave you time to recover before pulling you into a headlock. He pressed your back against his chest and turned to fully face Zemo. You let out a pathetic whimper and grabbed his arm. You were overwhelmed by his scent and the feel of his hard chest pressed against you.

"Is that it? Is that really the only thing you have on me?" Bruce asked. You could hear the beginnings of a smile on his mouth. 

"We can start with telling the world you are Batman, then I can show the rest of what I know if that's what you really want," Zemo said. "Or you can leave without the girl. And your secret's safe with me." He gestured towards the door. 

Your mind was going haywire. You weren't sure if Bruce really was Batman or if Zemo had planted evidence to destroy Bruce's life. It was one of the few times you could have cared less. You just wanted to get out of this in one piece. 

"Interesting, well, if you don't leave this office," Bruce began coldly. "I have a way of letting a certain group know about the research you've been doing. In fact, I could get a hold of the Winter Soldier before you step foot out of this office. What happens to your plan then?"

Zemo's jaw tensed. You hoped that maybe this was too much for both of them. Maybe Bruce would let you go, and they both would walk out, leaving you alone. 

"If both of you leave," you gasped out. "You can keep your secrets. I will not tell anyone what happened or what I heard." There was a tense silence. You could almost hear the gears in their brains spinning. But Bruce made no move to loosen his grip, and Zemo made no move towards the door. 

"My darling, you are correct. It seems we have reached an impasse," Zemo finally said with a sigh.

"It seems we have," Bruce agreed. 

"But you are mistaken to think you have anything to leverage," Zemo held your gaze and slammed the door shut. You jumped in Bruce's grasp at the sound. "There are plenty of things I have beyond your head chef's cocaine habit. I can't even begin to imagine what Batman would have. What he could do to you, to your precious restaurant."

Bruce's silence was more than enough to make your blood run cold. Zemo began to walk towards you. You backed up as much as you could against Bruce's chest. Zemo's kiss still burned your lips. 

"For one night, Bruce, do you think we can agree to play nice?" Zemo asked. He traced a finger down your cheek. "I can hold off planning your demise if you can hold off on planning mine." 

There was a heavy pause. Bruce's grip on your neck loosened, but it wasn't near enough for you to work with. 

"Fine," Bruce answered gruffly. "Just this once. If you touch her after this, I will kill you." 

"I would like to see you try to kill me, but another time perhaps," Zemo's dark eyes were staring into yours. He leaned in and kissed your lips. Bruce finally moved his arm from around your neck, if only to keep his distance from Zemo. Zemo grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you deeper into the kiss.

Your body went rigid. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to plan your next move. The smell of both of their colognes intertwined in your nose and overwhelmed you. If you weren't scared out of your mind, it would have smelled comforting. 

You could feel Bruce watching intently. He finally seemed to snap out of it and let his hands wander. One hand grabbed your ass, and you gasped. Zemo's tongue took advantage and slid into your mouth. 

You let out a pathetic whimper against his lips. Your first thought was to bite down. You wanted so badly to, but Bruce was right behind you. You wondered if he would intervene and punish you, or would he enjoy it? 

Zemo broke the kiss before you could act on that thought. You let out a pathetic gasp for air. His mouth began to travel down your neck, biting and sucking wherever he could. You moved your head to cut off his access to your neck. 

But Bruce roughly grabbed the side of your chin. He pulled your face to the left and leaned over to slam his lips against yours. He was giving Zemo more access to your neck. Zemo took full advantage of it, his lips and teeth only touching the most sensitive parts. 

Bruce grabbed your hip and pressed you more firmly against him. His tongue forced entrance into your mouth. He tasted good, and you hated it. You remembered the feel of his hands against your neck. His hands had been so rough with you over such a trivial thing. 

Zemo's mouth began to travel further down your neck to the area above your chest. He began to unbutton your dress shirt. After the first two, your hands found his. You tried to swat his hands away. What little bare skin was showing made you shiver with cold. Zemo snatched one hand, and Bruce took the other.

Zemo was able to easily unbutton your shirt with one hand. He took his time, feeling every inch of skin that peaked through. You squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn't stand the look on Zemo's face when he held your breasts in his hands. 

Something began to tear near your chest. Your eyes flashed open to see Zemo running a knife along your bra. You tried to move your head away from Bruce to break the kiss, but he only held your face tighter. He gave a low growl in his throat as a warning. But you ignored it. You frantically tugged at their grasps and tried to slam your foot on either of your attackers. Bruce was able to move away with ease. 

"Be careful. We don't want to cut this beautiful skin," Zemo whispered, running a hand up your bare skin. "Not this way."

Bruce finally broke the kiss. You took a deep hungry breath of air. "Put the knife away," he growled. 

"I'm not quite done yet," Zemo pressed, cutting away at what remained of your bra. Bruce pulled you further away from Zemo with a vicious tug of the arm around your throat. Your bra fell to the floor, and your nipples immediately hardened in the cold air. 

"No. No weapons. I don't care if it's the only thing that gets you hard," Bruce's voice was low, and it rattled in your ears. "I wouldn't put it past you to stab me when I'm inside her." 

Zemo gave a defeated sigh and shook his head. "I see the rumors of your open-mindedness in bed were false." He let the knife clatter to the floor, his eyes fixed on your chest. Even with it on the floor, you didn't feel any safer. 

In the blink of an eye were you pinned to the desk. Your breath caught in your chest at the force of which you were slammed against the hardwood. 

The two men loomed over you. Bruce stood next to your legs while Zemo was to your left, his eyes still fixed on your chest. You made a move to sit up once you caught your breath. But Zemo grabbed your arms in one hand and pinned them above you.

Before you could think about kicking, Bruce grabbed your thighs and shoved them apart. He hiked up your skirt, running his hand along a bare thigh. Zemo's free hand was on your breast, giving it a rough squeeze. 

So many hands were on you at once had your head spinning. You were overwhelmed with feelings of dread and the warmth growing in your stomach. 

"Stop, please!" you begged as Zemo gave your nipple a pinch. It was futile, but you hoped that maybe the words would chase away the tight coil of pleasure that was beginning to form.

"You say that," Bruce said with a smirk. "But I can prove otherwise." He pulled your panties aside and slid a finger inside you with ease. An embarrassing, squelching noise filled the room. You gave a sharp cry and arched your back at the intrusion. You tried to move your arms or legs, but both were held in even tighter grips. 

"A beautiful sound," Zemo muttered as he took your nipple in his mouth. You held back a gasp and squeezed your eyes shut. You desperately tried to think of something, anything to distract yourself from these unwelcome feelings.

Bruce pulled your panties off in one smooth motion. Through half-closed eyes, you watched him stuff them in his pants pocket. His hands were back on your thighs again, giving them deceptive gentle caress. 

Zemo pulled your lips into another hungry kiss. You could only feel Bruce's breath against your inner thigh. Your legs tensed as you realized what he was going to do. His tongue gave a gentle flick inside you before he began to devour you. 

You let out a panicked moan that was muffled by Zemo's mouth. You could feel Zemo's lips curl against yours in a smirk. He broke the kiss and, with one hand, began to hurriedly remove his tie. He used it to tie your hands together above your head. Even after he finally let your hands go, it felt like they were still being pressed against the desk. 

You arched your back and gave a gasp as Bruce added a thick finger to his assault on you. Your eyes widened, and you tried to focus on the ceiling to stop yourself from making more noises. But Bruce's skill with his tongue continued to drag them out of you.

Zemo had removed a large hard throbbing cock from his pants. You hadn't noticed since you were so wrapped up in Bruce's administrations. You opened your mouth to protest, but he took it as an invitation. In one fluid motion, it was in your mouth. You let out a strangled gag, immediately tasting precum against your tongue.

"What a wonderful mouth," Zemo said with a shaky breath. He started to thrust slowly. "But if there are any teeth, there will be trouble."

Bruce gave your outer thigh a harsh spank at those words. It took everything inside you not to clamp your jaw over the cock in your mouth. You could feel the disappointment from Bruce when you let out a muffled gasp. He finally removed his tongue and fingers from your pussy. You felt a sense of relief that you only had to focus on one attack on your senses. But the relief was short-lived. 

Your mind reeled when you felt him at your entrance. He had just started, and you already felt him stretching you. You let out a whine in protest. You wanted to push him away or to at least beg him to wear a condom. 

He was slow as he entered you, but it was still too much for you. Every centimeter he pushed, you felt you couldn't take anymore. His eyes were laser-focused on how you took him, and his hands gripped your legs tightly. He bottomed out with a groan. You let out a pathetic whine. There was no way he could move with you so tight around him. You were sure you would break. You couldn't take him like this.

"You're so tight," Bruce breathed, and he began to move at a brutal pace. Zemo gave you no room for comfort. He continued to move in your mouth without mercy and seemed to enjoy the panicked noises that came from your mouth against his cock. 

You were sure you could never sit at this desk again after this. You would never be able to look at its surface without recalling how it felt to move against it with Bruce inside you. You wouldn't be able to look at the painting on the wall without remembering seeing it while Zemo's cock was in your mouth.

The familiar feeling of something tightening in your stomach returned. You almost wanted to push it away, but it was a stronger sensation this time. It made you burn for release. Bruce seemed to realize this and rubbed your clit with skilled fingers. You switched your attention to Zemo's cock, but the fire only burned brighter. You felt yourself burn with pleasure and shame. You knew that you couldn't help it and you just hoped and prayed that they wouldn't notice when you came. 

Pleasure crashed over you in a heavy wave. For a brief moment, all you could think and feel was your sweet release. You clenched around Bruce with a vice grip. Muffled cries came out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

Bruce gave a strangled groan, and for a split second, his pace faltered. But he regained his composure quickly, a sneer on his lips. Zemo tightened his grip on your hair, looking down at you with a triumphant smirk. They didn't need to say anything. They both knew.

Hot ropes of cum filled your mouth without warning. Zemo let out an unsteady breath and sank deeper into your mouth, holding you tightly against him. You swallowed it all without thinking. It was difficult to function under the brutal pace Bruce had set. 

Zemo finally stopped his movements, but he did not pull out of your mouth. You pulled your head back in a desperate attempt to take a deep breath, but he tightened his grip on you in a warning. He was staring down at your ravaged pussy with intense concentration. His cock still rock hard in your mouth. 

Bruce finally came inside you with a strangled groan. He gave a few slow, painful thrusts as he emptied himself into you. You clenched onto him as if you would fall apart if he left you empty. You hated that the pressure was building inside of you again. It took all your strength not to grind your hips against him.

Zemo finally released your head and left your mouth. You let out a gasp as you could finally take full breaths. You closed your eyes tightly in shame as Bruce pulled out of you. The air felt cold and lonely around your lower body. You hoped they had their fill and would leave you alone. 

But you were penetrated again with a quick sharp thrust. You gave a panicked gasp. You opened your eyes to see Zemo already inside of you. 

"No! Wait!" Were the only two words you could say before you moaned pathetically.

"I've already waited for long enough, darling," Zemo growled as he pounded you without mercy. His arms holding your legs in a tight grip.

The fact that another man was inside you so soon after the first made the pressure build even faster. You bit your lip trying to think of something, anything, just not this. Bruce's cum soaked cock was in your line of sight. 

"Clean up the mess you made," Bruce ordered in a low voice. He gave you no time to comply. He slid into your mouth with a rough thrust. You moaned against his throat, and he let out a low groan. The taste of his and your cum filled your mouth.

"I don't think you're going to last long, darling," Zemo said with a wicked glint in his eye. His finger brushed against your clit. "If you would stop fighting it, you would be on your third and not second one now." He gave a disappointed sigh. "But alas, you are too stubborn. Such a shame."

He leaned forward and thrust deeper into you. You let out a pathetic cry against Bruce's cock. Your clenched your bound hands into fists. The muffled words that came out of your mouth were 'Don't stop.' For once, you were grateful they wouldn't leave your mouth alone. 

"So close," Zemo whispered. "Just let go." 

You hated that you listened, but you could not help yourself. You let go and came again with a more intense wave of pleasure. Zemo leaned back with a smirk and continued his thrusts as you came. Your eyes widened, but all you could see was white. All you could feel was the two cocks thrusting into you. 

You lay still in the aftermath of your orgasm in confusion and shame. The pleasure was still building. You loved it and wanted it to stop all at once. Zemo finally finished inside you with a growl. Bruce followed soon after, commanding you in a sharp voice to swallow.