bitetonysassfest

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! NSFW Wednesday 26 Trope: Mutual Pining Kink: Heat/Rut Dialogue: “Are you wearing my shirt?”

I wanted to try something and I hope you guys like it but if you don’t. Well my condolences. Maybe it was mostly to get the idea of Tony's legs over Steve's antlers as he ate him out into the fandom. Anyway you can read this on ao3 (here). It's especially long so look out for under the cut!

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It didn’t occur to Tony that he should actually fear Steve. He was always in control of himself for fear that he might accidentally hurt someone with his super soldier strength. Plus, he still had those forties sensibilities! Sometimes it annoyed Tony, how differential Steve could be to him for no reason other than his omega status. It sure helped when he was trying to get his way, though, so he’d always overlooked it. Besides, Steve was technically a prey animal! While Tony was an omega, he was also a wolf shifter, so the few times that Steve did show aggression, it sort of just made him back off with more concern than actual fear.

Now that Steve had backed him into a corner with his sharp antlers though, he wondered if maybe he should have been more scared. Steve’s antlers had looked smaller in all the war photographs he’d seen. Or maybe he’d just assumed they were smaller than they were because they’d never been brandished in his direction. Suddenly, the jokes he’d heard Peter and Kamala making about Steve having knives on his head didn’t seem so funny.

“Steve,” he finally managed, pressing back further into the wall. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, but he kept his purposefully down. He didn’t know if eye contact was an act of aggression to elk and he didn’t want to find out when the end of a tine scraped over his shoulder, bracketing him back against the wall. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Steve huffed, shifting on his feet carefully.

Tony opened his mouth to retort snidely about how he obviously was, but then Steve shifted again, forward, and his antlers scraped over the wall behind him with a sound that made all the hair on his body stand on end. He closed his mouth and swallowed thickly as he considered his next move. Finally, though, he managed to quietly ask, “Is that not okay anymore?”

He could hear Steve’s teeth grinding together. “Tony. I informed JARVIS as soon I realized my rut was coming on. I told him I was going to be more aggressive and territorial. He must have told you.”

Well. Maybe JARVIS had tried. Tony had heard ‘Captain Rogers is going into rut’ and had stopped listening after that. He knew what an alpha in rut was like because Rhodey had gone into them when they’d been in college. Rhodey had never threatened him. But then, he remembered suddenly, stricken—Rhodey had told him it was hard to consider him a threat or a prospective partner since he’d still been obviously a child when they’d met. Now he was an adult, a predator, having stolen one of Steve’s shirts, while Steve was at the most instinctively amped up he’d ever be. He was lucky Steve hadn’t gored him on sight.

“I’m sorry,” Tony tried, and couldn’t quite keep the tremor out of it. He reached for the hem of the shirt. “I can take it off.”

“Don’t,” Steve ground out, but he sounded more like he was in pain than angry now. “Don’t do that. I can smell more predator than omega on you. If you take it off—”

Then he’d get a huge whiff of omega stink, Tony finished when Steve cut himself off to groan deep in his chest, almost a bugle, but he was clearly trying his damnedest to keep his shift in check. “What if I try to leave?” he offered. The laundry room was still technically common area. It was both their territory and neither. Tony had only come in to grab a clean shirt after he’d gotten oil all over his and didn’t want to go all the way up to his room. Usually it was fine. He should have done more research on elk, he lamented, watching as Steve shifted back a step.

“…Too fast, and I’ll think you’re hunting and have to defend myself,” Steve answered after a deep breath. “Too slow, and I’ll think you’re just nervous and need to be herded back to bed.”

Tony bit his bottom lip to try and swallow back a whimper at the thought of Steve using his antlers and the bulk of his body to make him retreat back to his bed. Now was not the time to think about how hot that was.

“I think we should call Thor or Bruce to come escort you out,” Steve continued after another brief pause. “They’re not alphas. I won’t feel the urge to lock antlers with them for the chance to breed you. And they—they could protect you, if I did. Suddenly feel they were stealing my prospective mate. I… God,” he gasped, stepping forward again, and Tony fought not to flinch as Steve’s antlers finally punctured the wall on either side of him, physically caging him in. “You smell so good. With my scent on you. You should wear my clothes all the time.”

Tony swallowed again, hands curling around the hem of his purloined shirt. “You’re just saying that because you’re in rut.”

Steve shifted his head, wall crumbling as his antlers moved through it. “I’ll say it after,” he promised, with the same gravity he’d promised to punch Nazis in the teeth in his newsreels.

Tony lifted his head to look up at him in surprise, mouth dropping open slightly at how earnest he sounded. Steve must have seen something in his expression, or his instincts clicked, or something, because then Tony found himself being tugged off his feet, cradled carefully in Steve’s arms, and when he opened his mouth—to yelp, or question him, or bear his teeth in case Steve was trying to hurt him—Steve shoved his tongue past them, easily silencing anything he could have said.

He tasted like greens. Tony almost balked, the wolf too close to the surface; he didn’t eat vegetation unless under specific circumstances. Then Steve let out a sort of grunting noise from deep in his chest, a low churr that vibrated through his entire body from the tongue working its way down his throat to his kicking feet, and he couldn’t help a shudder of arousal, heat beginning to grow in the pit of his belly.

Steve jerked back with a wet gasp, eyes filled with desire as they raked over his face. He jerked his head up, ripping the tines of his antlers from the wall, and took a step back, carefully easing Tony back onto his feet. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, longer than Tony expected, but when he braved a glance down, he saw that Steve was clearly just barely holding on to his human form—his legs had grown longer, joints bending it in opposite directions, all covered with a thick layer of reddish-tan fur. His feet had been replaced by dark black hooves, shining bright like obsidian. “I want to herd you to bed.”

Tony blinked, stunned, and tipped his head up to look at him. “…I… don’t know if that’s sexy,” he finally managed to breathe.

He’d never really gotten to look at Steve from this angle before. He was always so conscious of trying not to intimidate anyone. Just because he was a prey animal didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous; even without antlers, his strong legs and sheer size was dangerous. He didn’t seem conscious of it now, towering over Tony, nose flaring with each inhale to try and scent some reciprocation. His antlers were… sure something, though. Tony had heard that six tines was the normal amount for antlers. Of course Steve had to surpass them all with nine. They were huge, extending up and out like a halo around him. Tony couldn’t help but swallow thickly at the sight of them from his vulnerable position. Suddenly he understood why cervine shifters were called kings of the forest.

Steve ducked his head, letting out a quiet huff that ended in a grunt from his chest, antlers coming forward. He took a step and swept his head from left to right, and Tony instinctively skittered out the way, unable to choke back a nervous whimper at how sharp the tines looked up close. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised, swinging his head again.

Oh. This was what herding meant, Tony realized as he backed off a few more steps. Steve’s careful swinging and jerking of his head was thought out. He was, quite literally, directing Tony where he wanted to go with his antlers. Against his will, another rush of heat filled his belly—it would be so easy for Steve to make a mistake and hurt him, maybe even gore him. But he was just as sure, deep in his bones, that Steve would never make that mistake. And that surety just made Steve more attractive.

Steve’s pupils dilated, tongue sliding out to test the air, long and wet. “Tony?” he finally asked, eyes tracking over him desperately. “Is that—yes? I promise I won’t be too heavy. I’ll take care of you.”

Tony shuddered, flushing, and fought off the urge to bear his teeth. He felt too vulnerable like this. He wasn’t even in heat, but he felt like if Steve even tried to kiss him again, he’d fold immediately. “I don’t know,” he tried, and cut himself off when Steve snorted and stamped a hoof in response.

“I’m sorry,” Steve hurried to say when he realized what had happened. He backed off a step, but it looked like it caused him pain. “I’m sorry, that was—I’m not impatient. Okay,” he huffed when Tony scowled at him. “I am. But. I can control myself. I can. If you tell me to fuck off, I’ll go back to my room to wait out the rest of my rut. Might need to, uh,” he coughed, finally tipping his head away so he could rub the back of it. “Order a new mattress. I didn’t. Think to put on my protective sheets.”

Tony swallowed again, gripping his shirt in his fists again. “I just. I’m not a doe. What if I don’t do it right? And you don’t. Have a knot. So. What if I don’t like it?” he asked haltingly, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about doing anything right, Tony,” Steve rushed to assure him. “I’m easy. I just need a hole.” He took a careful step forward, small, and he visibly stopped himself from scenting the air again. “I don’t. Have a knot. But I can… I can still make it good for you. If you have any… toys… I’m not opposed to using them. If it will help make it better for you. The bull in me just wants to breed, but I’m not just a bull. I want this to be good for you, too.”

The arousal that punched through Tony almost made him drop to his knees with a wanton whine. He rarely spent his heats with anyone else, but the few times he’d mentioned toys, prospective alphas had always beared their teeth. How they didn’t ‘need help’ and it was ‘insulting.’ Steve wasn’t self-conscious at all. He clearly wanted to get his dick wet, but he was also willing to accept toys if it would make the sex better for Tony.

“I don’t want your alpha stink in my room,” Tony admitted after catching his breath. “I don’t want to be herded in my own space.”

Steve shifted on his hooves, pawing at the floor anxiously. However, he was all confidence as he offered, “I’ll go to my room and wait for you. If you don’t come, I won’t come find you. I’ll stay there until my rut’s over. But if you want—if you do want to try with me, I. I’ll leave the door unlocked. I might not use the toys until after the first round,” he added ruefully, frowning. “I’ll be too desperate. But. I will eventually get hold of myself and remember your pleasure too, Tony.”

Tony watched him, unable to help a sliver of distrust. It would be awkward. He was a wolf and Steve was an elk. He wasn’t even in heat, although if he was trapped in a room with that alpha rut-musk, that could quickly change. Steve was bigger and stronger than him on a normal day. What if he got scared and said no and Steve didn’t give him a choice?

“I’ll take the stairs,” Steve added breathlessly. “The exercise will help, and. This way you won’t have to get my scent in your room from the elevator. You can clear your head and think.”

Tony couldn’t help a punched out sound. Even shaking with desire and need, Steve was still trying to make sure he felt safe. “Okay.”

“It’s okay if you don’t come to my room,” Steve promised as he carefully circled him to get to the stairwell. “I won’t be mad. Just—let JARVIS deliver messages about my rut from now on. Maybe don’t wear my shirts then.”

“Okay,” Tony repeated, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He watched Steve duck his head to fit his antlers through the door, shifting on his own feet, then called out, “Steve?”

Steve didn’t turn, but he did stop. “Yeah, Tony?”

“…Wolves are monogamous,” Tony offered after a brief, anxious pause.

Steve pushed through the door, so his antlers cleared it, then turned, pinning Tony in place with an earnest stare. “I’m not good at herding,” he finally said, lifting one shoulder in a blasé shrug. “I can only make one person happy at a time without getting stressed out. Learned it with the USO girls.” He smirked when Tony choked on an inhale. “Besides, it’s not in my nature to share.”

He turned and let the door to the stairwell fall shut before Tony could respond, which was probably a good thing, all things considered. Tony suddenly felt hot from his face down to his toes, and he wouldn’t lie and say Steve offering his own monogamy didn’t fill him with a thrill of smug delight. Steve was Captain America. He could have anyone. But he’d only be looking at Tony, if that was what he wanted.

Still. He moved to enter the elevator, trying to take small breaths to avoid the lingering scent of Steve’s rut in the air. It would be best if he took a few minutes in the penthouse away from Steve’s scent to really consider it. He needed a clear head. To think. To decide.

To try and forget the fear and arousal that had filled him when Steve had cornered him with his antlers, eyes hungry and desperate. To forget how Steve’s tongue had felt in his mouth, down his throat, how it had tested the air. To stop imagining that it was inside him.

“Focus, Tony,” he hissed, pressing his palms to his eyes, and ignored just how damp his underwear felt with his arousal.

.-.

Despite all his reservations, Tony found himself padding into Steve’s apartment. He wasn’t waiting in the living room, which came as a relief, though it did make Tony feel a little like he was intruding. The scent of Steve’s rut was cloying in here, and Tony felt an answering pulse in his core at the idea of being in an alpha’s den during rut. He paced around the living room once, then poked into the kitchen. He swallowed thickly when he saw the fridge and cupboards fully stocked. The wolf in him liked that. He wondered if Steve knew that.

Tony backtracked to the living room, staring out the window and clutching the plug and knotting dildo he’d brought to his chest, trying to talk himself into leaving. Or walking into Steve’s bedroom. He felt paralyzed with indecision. This was too fast. This would end badly. He could get hurt.

He looked down at the shirt he was still wearing and whimpered. Steve had managed to tear himself away once even when he obviously hadn’t wanted to. He could probably do it again.

“You’re not wearing any pants,” Steve said as soon as he saw him, shocked, and he stood from the bed as if without thinking. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath, then let it back out slowly. “I mean. Hi.”

“I didn’t want you to rip my pants,” Tony offered, hanging back in the doorway nervously. Steve was back in his human form. He couldn’t say he wasn’t a little disappointed about it. The elk part of him had… sure been interesting. He reached down to pluck at the hem of Steve’s shirt nervously, then looked back up at Steve, unable to help a gulp as he watched Steve come toward him. “Hi.”

Steve gripped his hands into fists, then very carefully let them fall open. His eyes were finally drawn to Tony’s chest, where he was still clutching his toys. “Those look… neat.”

Tony shrugged, unsure whether he should feel embarrassed or not. Steve didn’t look upset or offended, though, which he found he actually quite liked. Even when he was playing around with other wolves, some of the alphas had been offended when they’d seen his toy collection. Steve just looked… curious? Intrigued, maybe. Before he could ask, Steve dipped his head, and Tony took a deep breath to stave off the instinctive fear that came with the motion as all of the sharp tines on Steve’s antlers pointed at him. “You weren’t kidding about herding me to the bed,” he realized, unable to stop his mouth from curving up in amusement.

“I’m a simple beast,” Steve replied with a shrug, then waved his head, antlers swinging within centimeters of him. “Hurry up though.”

Tony couldn’t quite swallow back the laugh that escaped him, even as he allowed himself to be herded toward the bed. Steve was careful, never coming into contact with him, even though one of his tines did get so close he felt the wind of it passing over his skin. It made him shiver, and he couldn’t tell if it was from fear or delight, but either way, it sure made his arousal skyrocket. He paused at the edge of the bed waiting for the next swing of Steve’s antlers to direct him, but Steve took a step back and shook his head instead, antlers swinging well away from him. He blinked up at him, confused.

“Would being on your back—is that too much?” Steve asked after a moment. “I know wolves. Don’t like to be vulnerable. And I don’t know how you’d feel about my antlers looming over you like that.”

Tony was instantly filled with relief. He’d been dreading this talk, but Steve had apparently already thought of that. “Maybe a little later into your rut, once our bond has been established and the wolf in me trusts you. Until then, from behind is probably best.”

“Doggy style, of course,” Steve murmured thoughtfully, and his hand came up to catch Tony’s wrist before he was even aware he was trying to hit him. “Sorry. It just came out.”

“Asshole,” Tony grumbled, glaring up at him mulishly. He dropped the dildo and plug on the bed, then reached for the hem of his shirt. “Do you want this off?”

Steve looked him up and down, considering. Finally, he answered, “No, I still like that you smell like me. I might tear it off of you later, though.”

Tony tipped his head, then nodded. “Yeah, that sounds hot, actually.”

“I’m glad,” Steve deadpanned, and that was all the warning Tony got before Steve’s hand clamped around the back of his neck and shoved him down onto the bed.

Tony struggled on instinct, scrabbling at the blankets and kicking out backward in hopes of making contact with him. But Steve’s grip was immovable, and honestly, the warm weight on his nape was… kinda nice. Like he was being scruffed into compliance in the best way. He stilled beneath Steve’s hand with a whimper bordering on needy. It wasn’t like Steve couldn’t tell he was hot for him. His briefs had been soaked since he’d gotten into the elevator.

“So we’re just getting right to it then?” he managed to ask, trying to sound haughty and mostly failing.

Steve sounded amused as he answered, “You don’t even know what that means for me.” He hooked his fingers in the hem of Tony’s briefs before he could retort and ripped them off like they were made of tissue paper, and his stomach clenched pleasantly at the idea of him doing that to his shirt later. “I’ve always got to get a taste first.”

“Huh?” Tony gasped as Steve lifted his hand from the back of his neck. He didn’t have much time to squirm, though, because then both of Steve’s hands were clamping over his hips, pinning them to the edge of the bed, and his long tongue swiped between his cheeks, gathering up the slick that had leaked out of him with a guttural sound. “Shit. I didn’t even have to ask oh my god,” Tony babbled, clawing at the sheets as Steve licked over his hole again and again. “Always? You always have to—”

“Yeah,” Steve groaned into his skin, and then his grip shifted from his hips, reaching to spread him open, expose his damp hole to the air. “Hope you come on my face.”

Tony barely had time to register the words before Steve’s tongue was in him, letting out a shout as Steve pinned him in place with his mouth and hands. All he could do was take what Steve gave him, toes curling at just how deep his reach was. He groaned and buried his face in the sheets, hips hitching uselessly in the effort to ride Steve’s tongue. “Fuck. Fuck. You’re so deep inside me—” He shuddered helplessly. “Wanna ride your face so bad, Steve, let me, please let me—”

Steve groaned behind him, drawing back, and Tony bit back a howl of dismay. “I need to do this my way right now,” he grunted, apologetic and stern all at once, and Tony whimpered. “But when my antlers drop in the winter, and I can lie on my back, I’ll let you sit on my face as long as you want.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open to gasp at the mental image that brought up, Steve greedily holding him down on his face, but then Steve’s tongue was back in him, licking over his most intimate places, and all he could do was whine and whimper in response. Steve’s tongue was hot and wet inside him, and he couldn’t help trying to clench down on it, helpless in Steve’s grip to do anything else. Then Steve adjusted angle, twisting his tongue just right, and slid it right across the bundle of nerves that always made Tony turn to putty, and he couldn’t swallow back the howl it brought from deep in his chest.

Steve flinched at the sound, let out a chuff of pure fear, and Tony immediately started babbling apologies. He hadn’t wanted to scare him. He just couldn’t hold it in. Not when he was so close, and Steve was so thorough. He felt a real terror that he’d started and ruined this all in one go, but then Steve wordlessly hefted him further up onto the bed, pinning his hips at a better angle while pulling Tony’s feet up off the floor to keep him from having any purchase. Then he twisted his tongue and started ramming the end of it over Tony’s prostate, again and again, as if his pleasure was secondary to memorizing exactly where it was for future intimacy.

Tony howled again, scrabbling wildly at the sheets as the heat in his belly swelled to new heights. Steve was good at this, he thought faintly, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t even care about getting knotted—if Steve ate him out between rounds, he’d be well sated, especially with how thoroughly he was doing it.

Steve suddenly pulled his tongue free, and Tony couldn’t help a whimper of dismay. He’d been so close, he didn’t understand why Steve would just suddenly stop—and then he felt a sharp pain as Steve’s teeth bit into the meat of his right cheek. He didn’t have long to linger on it, though, because then Steve was slipping two fingers into his hole, following the trail his tongue had taken, and pressed roughly over his prostate, and the zing of pleasure-pain had him shaking through his first orgasm, eyes rolling back as Steve’s fingers worked him through it. He might have howled again, or whined, or he might not have said anything at all, riding the wave of pleasure that was seeping heat into his bones until they melted, and he collapsed onto his face, hips twitching with every rub over his prostate.

“’f we can get you comfortable enough to be on your back,” Steve rumbled, sitting up straight, and Tony shuddered pleasantly at the thought. “We could use my antlers to hold your legs open as I eat you out.”

“Steve,” Tony croaked, voice cracking as he imagined just that, knees hooked over the rough bone and splayed open for Steve’s pleasure. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“You’re hot,” Steve answered, and then, “Please, I—can I fuck you now? Is that okay?”

Tony had sort of hoped he’d get the chance to see Steve’s dick, understand what he was working with, but he found himself only a little disappointed by it. If Steve was half as thorough with his dick as he was with his tongue, he figured it didn’t really matter. “I just… need a minute,” he answered after a brief pause. His body was still trembling, and he couldn’t help an overwhelmed mewl as Steve’s hands carefully moved him further up the bed. Everything felt so… much. He’d helped rutting alphas before, but it hadn’t been anything like this. He didn’t want to say the other alphas had been selfish; ruts were overwhelming. But no one had bent him over and fucked him with their tongues like Steve had.

“Tony,” Steve murmured, pressing kisses up his spine. “Tony, I just want you to know. If. If I call you a cow. It’s not because I’m insulting you. Okay? I just. It’s instinct. To breed. I know you’re not a cow.”

“Thought females were called does,” Tony murmured, turning his head to lay on his cheek. He blinked up at Steve’s antlers above him. He wasn’t scared by them now like he had been before. He felt… safe. Comforted. Like they were caging him in to keep danger away, rather than caging him in to hurt him.

“Some,” Steve managed. “It’s. Usually for smaller species? I think?” He dragged his tongue up Tony’s spine, following the trail of kisses, and let out a chuff. “But also. Rut makes things. Wobbly.” He wiggled a hand between Tony’s belly and the mattress, letting out a guttural sound from his chest again, pressing his lips to Tony’s ear. “Cows are for breeding. Elk can be does up until I’m fucking my calves into them.”

Tony couldn’t help but moan quietly, squeezing his eyes shut. The wolf in him bristled at being called a cow. But the part of him that was still trembling with the odd aftershock from his orgasm sort of liked it. Especially because Steve wasn’t one to speak filth. Sure, he could swear at a baseball game in a way that could make sailors blush, but that was different from saying he hoped Tony came on his face, or how they could use his antlers to hold Tony’s legs open once he was comfortable enough to show Steve his belly.

“If you’re half as good with your dick as you are your tongue, you can call me whatever you want,” Tony finally offered, spreading his thighs a little wider. “I wouldn’t even be mad if you called me a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch, Tony,” Steve hurried to assure him, even as he used his knees to wedge his legs further apart.

Tony slanted a glance back at him. “’s what whelping wolves are called, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve said, sounding awkward, even as he leaned forward, arms on either side of Tony’s shoulders, boxing him in. “Sorry.”

Tony hummed, tipping his head forward again. It felt surprisingly comfortable, the weight of Steve on top of him, the heat of his thighs as they kept his legs spread open. He didn’t feel vulnerable at all, and it made him hopeful that he could show Steve his belly at some point during his rut. He felt warm. Comfy, even. “Okay,” he sighed, arching his hips up as much as he could.

“Okay,” Steve breathed, sounding overwhelmed, and that was all the warning Tony got before Steve was in him.

He would have howled again, maybe, if he didn’t feel like Steve was punching the air right out of him by rutting his entire length in in one go. He desperately tried to suck in a breath, managed to choke out an overwhelmed, “Steve, what the fuck,” then buried his face in the blankets.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve murmured, mouthing at his neck. “I’ll—try and hold back, but—”

His hips were already moving, minute movements that jerked his long cock back and forth in a way that couldn’t really be ignored. Tony couldn’t swallow back the punched-out sounds it forced out of him, even as his body quickly adjusted to the intrusion, still soft and pliant from being eaten to orgasm. Steve was… big. He wondered how much of that was the serum and how much of that was simply being an elk, but didn’t feel like he could ask, at least not right now.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said again, probably the most lucid Tony had heard him since before he’d corned him in the laundry room. He felt a brief flash of real fear, not understanding why Steve would be sorry, but then Steve let out a sound he hadn’t heard before, deep and primal in a way that made his hair stand on end. “Mine.”

Steve dropped more of his weight on him, holding him in place and knocking the air out of him all at once. Tony didn’t even have time to wheeze more air into his lungs before Steve shifted his hips and then rammed into him, driving the head of his cock right over his prostate, as if he really had memorized where it was while he’d been licking into him. He tried to scream, or howl, or something, but every time he gathered the brain space to blink past his eyes crossing with pleasure, Steve rammed over his prostate again. He did it with steady precision, pounding over it like a machine, and Tony’s overwrought body was shaking through another orgasm soon after, only able to let out a broken bleat as he came. Steve fucked him through it, making a pleased, rumbling sound in his ear, and Tony couldn’t even find the strength to whimper as his entire body spasmed. He’d rarely had more than one orgasm before he was knotted, but Steve seemed to believe he needed to be coming or recovering from it, and all he could do was lie under Steve’s weight and take what he was given, and he’d… never had to do that before.

Reluctantly, at least to himself, he had to admit he kind of liked it. He wasn’t worried about Steve’s pleasure (from his panting and groaning, he sounded like he was enjoying himself), he didn’t have to worry about making sure he got off, and the dull ache from being stretched too quickly had already faded. He was only marginally disappointed that Steve didn’t have a knot, but only because he wanted that intimate connection of being tied, of having Steve hold him close after pounding his brains out. From how possessive Steve appeared to be, holding him close for the duration of his rut wouldn’t be a problem anyway.

“I can feel every time you come on my cock,” Steve breathed into his ear, and Tony shuddered at the moist heat of it, the Brooklyn drawl curling soft and satisfied at the edges. “Feel so good squeezin’ on me. You lookin’ for somethin’, sweetheart? You tryin’a coax a knot outta me?”

“Steve,” Tony groaned, squirming uselessly.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Steve groaned, hands coming up to curl over Tony’s fists and hold them. “Can I come, honey? Can I come inside you?”

Tony groaned again, burying his face in the sheets to hide the way his cheeks had heated for reasons other than overexertion. In the height of rut, fucking him through orgasm after orgasm, and Steve still had the wherewithal to ask if he could come inside him. “Yes,” he coughed, then cleared his throat, blinking heat back from his eyes. “Yeah, Steve, I want you to come in me.”

“Fuck,” Steve chuffed, and then began pounding into Tony harder.

Tony finally managed a cracked shout, eyes rolling back in his head as his body spasmed around Steve’s cock. He hadn’t realized Steve could go harder. His body was going to be carved to the same of Steve’s cock alone, he thought frantically. Part of him worried about that, being ruined for anyone else. Another, larger part of him was pleased, though. The submissive part that wanted to be bred, maybe, especially because Steve was so thorough and attentive, even as he greedily sated himself.

Steve fucked into him two, three more times, then let out a bugle that seemed to shake the bed, rutting into Tony as hard as he could. Tony moaned helplessly as he felt the telltale hot pulsing of a rutting alpha coming inside him, trembling. The lack of a knot felt weird and wrong, like he’d failed somehow, but every time he opened his mouth to whimper an apology, Steve rutted over his prostate again, as if he could tell what Tony meant to do and didn’t want it. All he could do was whine and jerk underneath Steve, until one last ram had him coming again too, and all he wanted to do was ride that high.

So it took a moment for Tony to blink past his own pleasure before he realized, “You’re still hard.”

“‘m in rut,” Steve drawled, amused.

Tony shuddered. He’d thought Steve would pull out or something. He was pretty sure Steve had bruised his prostate, and he’d been looking forward to a breather. But Steve didn’t have a knot that necessitated rest, he realized, sending a shock of unease through him. Steve could rut him as long as he had the strength. “How long is—” he gasped, eyes rolling back again as Steve shifted, pulling his cock out halfway. He could feel Steve’s spend dripping from his cock and onto the backs of his thighs. He forced himself to focus. “How long is your rut, Steve?”

Steve pressed his mouth to Tony’s ear, letting out a quiet moan and biting gently on his earlobe. “Fuck, you smell so nice, all covered in my musk.”

“Steve,” Tony tried to say sternly, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. “How long is your rut?”

Steve wiggled his hand under Tony’s belly again, gripping at him possessively. “Two months.”

“Two months?!” Tony exclaimed, voice cracking again. “You’ll kill me, Steve, I can’t—”

“First couple days is the worst,” Steve promised, sliding his other hand beneath Tony so he could pull him up against his body. He ignored the groan Tony let out as he sank back onto his cock at the motion. “After the first couple days, it’ll slow down. It’ll be normal sex after, just—just gotta get through the initial hormones.”

Well. Tony could do a couple days of this. Maybe. If Steve was ready to tend to his limp and broken body for the week after.

“Get the feelin’ that I’ll definitely get t’ throw your legs over my antlers and eat you,” Steve added, smug, before his hips started moving again.

“Oh,” Tony gasped, trying to squirm away.

“‘s still too urgent to rest, sweetheart,” Steve sighed, and he sounded regretful, even as he slid his hands down to his pelvis to hold him against his groin, burying his cock even deeper. “But soon. Okay? I’ll take care of you.”

“After you fuck me to death,” Tony tried to complain, but it mostly came out as a whimper.

“Wolves are hardy,” Steve assured him, and Tony was oddly flattered by the compliment even though he was sure he was being teased, too. “Hold on, honey.”

“To what,” Tony whimpered, and then Steve fucked a howl out of his throat as he started pounding into him like he hadn’t just come buckets inside him.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest!

NSFW Tuesday 25 Dialogue: “Take it off. Slowly.”

I made a post in 2022 for WinterIron month, spectacularly misunderstanding the difference between a trope and AU. You can read it along with this addition on ao3 (here). Watch out for under the cut!

--

“You didn’t even let me show off,” Tony grumbled, scowling, as he worked his cuff links free of his sleeves. “What’s the point of getting dolled up if I can’t flaunt it?”

Bucky ran a hand over his face tiredly. “Doll, as much as I like showin’ you off, there’s something just a little off-putting about getting you naked when Hammer’s sittin’ next to me and pantin’ after you like a dog.”

Tony paused, fingers lingering on the sleeve of his jacket. He had to work past the rush of heat that filled him at the hint of Bucky’s Brooklyn drawl coming forward in his annoyance, focusing carefully on the words he’d said instead of how he’d said them. It was a struggle. Finally, he managed to ask, “…Justin Hammer was there? I thought Jan had banned him.”

“Invited himself along with someone else Jan wanted to impress, apparently,” Bucky answered, smiling reluctantly as Tony tipped his head, clearly considering whether it made him feel better or worse. He waited a beat, then added, “If it helps, when Jan realized I stopped folding my hands, she visibly started plotting his death.”

Tony thought about it a moment longer, then turned, smiling widely. “Well, if that’s the only reason you didn’t get me naked on stage—”

“Tony. Everyone wants you naked as soon as you step on stage,” Bucky deadpanned. “Especially since that one time you were wearing that red lace under your suit and the newbie next to me dropped his beer in his lap.” He crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows at him. “Did I deprive the world at large of something beautiful again? Is that why you’re mad?”

Tony rolled his eyes with a fond shake of his head. “I’ve got some panties on, but that’s it. It was just going to be a nice surprise once I was almost naked.” He leaned back against the edge of the bed, eyelids falling to half mast as he looked up at him. “I could put something else on, if you wanted me to.”

It was tempting, but Bucky wasn’t someone who was unable to appreciate the finer points of Tony’s body. And he hadn’t gotten to strip him for the crowd like he wanted to, the disappointment and anger still simmering in his belly as he remembered Hammer sighing to his companions as if he knew Tony intimately. He’d had been about to fold a full house. Tony was about to lose his shirt. And then Hammer had groaned about how much he wanted to see Tony’s skin, and he’d slapped down his winning hand immediately. On the bright side, it seemed like Jan would clothesline Hammer the next time she saw him.

“Nah,” he finally said, eyes lingering as they roamed up and down Tony’s body. “But if you really want a show, far be it from me to tell you no.”

Tony blinked up at him, confused, then smirked. “Oh? So you’re relegating me to common stripper?”

“There’s not a single thing common about you,” Bucky scoffed. He started to approach the bed, then thought better of it, instead changing his direction to go sit in Tony’s comfy armchair. He waved at Tony once he was comfortable, motioning at his suit. “Well, show me what you were going to make the other guys watch. Take it off. Slowly,” he added when he saw Tony carelessly reaching for the collar of his shirt, as if he had no idea how hot him taking his clothes off actually was now that the only audience he had was Bucky.

Tony blinked again, lips parting in genuine surprise as his fingers curled into a fist at his chest. He took a moment to steady himself against the bed, then offered Bucky the winning smile he’d given the crowd as he’d stepped onto the stage. “You’re being bossy. I like when you’re bossy.”

“I’ll remember that,” Bucky promised, and Tony reached up to casually unknot his tie, as if he had all the time in the world. He slid it from his collar, then very deliberately dropped it on the ground. Bucky shifted in his chair. He’d never admit it (and Tony apparently already knew), but he loved how careless Tony got with his clothes when sex was promised, especially when he was wearing his expensive stuff. Like Bucky’s pleasure mattered more than the care of his clothes. It sent a warm thrum through him that was only partially arousal.

Tony shrugged off his jacket easily, dropping it to the floor with his tie. He reached up for the top button of his shirt, flicking it open and pulling the fabric so Bucky finally got to see his chest. “So, what were we stealing this time?”

“It’s better if you don’t know,” Bucky answered, watching Tony’s expert fingers work button after button until he reached his slacks. He waited for Tony to pull his shirt free, maybe even unbutton his pants, but then he realized that Tony’s hands had very deliberately fallen lax at his sides. He shook his head, amused, and finally lifted his gaze to meet Tony’s unimpressed stare. “Recovering some compromising pictures from Doom.”

Tony frowned, even as he lifted his hands to tug his shirt free of his pants. “Oh. Victor isn’t usually one to… for whom?”

“Susan Storm,” Bucky answered easily. Tony would just worm it out of him later if he didn’t.

“…Hmm,” Tony hummed, beginning to shoulder out of his shirt.

“Leave the shirt on. I wanna fuck you in it,” Bucky cut in. “Also why hmm? I always get nervous when you hmm. What do you know?”

Tony pulled his shirt back on agreeably and instead made his way over to where Bucky was sat, putting his foot on his lap. “Be useful and untie my shoes. My stab wound’s still healing.”

Bucky moved to untie his shoe, frowning up at him. “What stab wound? Were you attacked? You’re dropping a lot of information here, pal—”

“Dum-E accidentally ran into me full-force with a screwdriver,” Tony scoffed, reaching out to cup his cheek. “I’m fine. It’s more of a bruise than an actual stab wound and just makes bending over hurt at the end of a day.” He watched Bucky slide his shoe off gratefully and waited a beat to see if he’d help with his sock. Then he rolled his eyes when Bucky simply snapped his sock garter and gave him a lecherous smile.  “Such a horndog.”

“What was that hmm for, sugar lips?” Bucky deadpanned as Tony shifted so his other foot was in his lap, picking the shoelaces loose slowly as he waited for his answer.

“Well, I mean, Victor isn’t really the type to blackmail. Okay,” he sighed when Bucky raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “So he is. But not Susan. She’d kill him the minute he tried. And she doesn’t really have anything he wants besides her. I’m gonna call her and ask.”

Sometimes the realities of Tony being among the rich that they’d steal from really came back to bite them in the ass. Bucky still remembered when Natasha had infiltrated the company to steal something, Tony had realized, and he’d just blinked at her and said, ‘you could have just asked.’ He probably thought he could have just asked Victor von Doom for the pictures, too.

“Don’t call her,” Bucky ordered firmly, reaching for the button on Tony’s pants.

Tony slapped his hand away and took a few steps back. “No, you’ll ruin the surprise. Also, I’ll call whoever I want. We’re friends,” he added sternly. He flicked the button on his slacks open and slid his zipper down. “Besides, she’s been to the Doll parties so she knows we’re an item. It won’t be weird that I know.”

“We would all like it if you didn’t know things for plausible deniability reasons,” Bucky reminded him, but he also allowed himself to be distracted by the peek of lace he got as Tony reached inside his pants to work the inside button free. “Also Susan Storm scares Steve. So.”

“All women scare Steve,” Tony scoffed, then made a soft sound of victory as he got the button undone and the fabric spread to show off some obviously expensive white lace. “He gets real nervous whenever Pepper visits. If you keep scolding me, I’ll call Victor instead. Our on-off friendship is currently ‘on’ again.”

“Pepper scares everyone,” Bucky grumbled, mostly to himself, because Tony would just give him that really skeptical squint that he kept locked and loaded for when he fundamentally could not understand where they were coming from. Even Natasha had been nervous when Tony had first started working with them and Pepper had slanted them a cold, calculating look over her shoulder as Tony extolled their virtues.

Luckily, Tony didn’t notice, and then he shimmied his hips side-to-side so that his pants fell to his knees. “Well?” he asked smugly, shuffling in an inelegant circle. Somehow, it was still one of the sexiest things Bucky had ever seen. “What do you think?”

“Cheeky,” Bucky managed, eyes locked onto the scalloped edges. ‘Cheeky’ might have been an understatement. The scalloped edge went halfway up his ass. It was like a thong parading as cheeky lingerie. Not that he minded, of course—Tony’s ass was like a peach, and it filled out the panties nicely. “Take your pants off.”

“Well, that was always the plan,” Tony answered, shimmying his hips again, and his slacks fell around his ankles. He turned to look at Bucky, spreading his arms out in a vague ‘ta-da.’ He looked like pure sex, wearing nothing but his open shirt, panties, and socks with garters. And he’d only look sexier once Bucky got to have his way with him. It was a shame no one else would see him.

Well. That was an idea. Bucky stood and approached him in three long steps, curling his hand around Tony’s bicep. “C’mere.”

“Ope,” Tony yelped as his pants tripped him up. He caught himself a few steps later, though, and he blinked up at Bucky with his best doe eyes. “Where are we going?”

“’s a shame I couldn’t show you off,” Bucky answered. He paused, then stopped walking, instead dropping to his knees. He grasped Tony’s hips before he could turn, forcing him to face away. “Actually, lemme give it a little extra.”

Tony didn’t struggle at all, even as he asked, “What does that mean, give it a little extra? That sounds ominous—”

Bucky leaned in and buried his teeth in Tony’s right cheek, the scalloped edge of his panties just skimming his top lip. Tony let out a shocked yelp, but Bucky pulled away before his instinctive swipe backward could connect with his skull. “Just so they know they shouldn’t bother us for a while,” he offered when Tony gave him an incredulous glare.

“They’ve known not to bother us after Doll parties ever since Bruce walked in and I was sitting on your face,” Tony scoffed, offended. His hand reached back to cover the bite mark. “Now I don’t know if I wanna show off.”

Bucky considered one last nip, but Tony might actually thump him, so he simply got to his feet instead. “You always wanna show off,” he retorted. He took a moment to adjust the way the hem of Tony's shirt fell over his panties, then gave his ass a fond pat. “And honestly with an ass like that, you should get to.”

Tony glanced back at his rear, frowning, even as Bucky led him to the door again. “Put a teeth mark on me… So fucking mean, no one is even going to appreciate it so I don’t understand why you did it anyway…”

“Because I’m so fucking mean,” Bucky replied cheerfully, then shoved the bedroom door open and led the way to the common area, where everyone else was still celebrating getting past Doom’s security with pizza and beer. He clapped his hands together. “Everyone, Tony is sad he didn’t get to show off.”

“I really hate when you guys do this when I’m eating,” Steve began, closing his eyes tiredly.

Natasha grabbed him by the shirt and leaned in, growling, “Don’t fucking blow this for us.” Then she released him, turning with a kind smile, which would have been terrifying, if Bucky wasn’t so sure that Tony couldn’t be seduced away from him. He kept him pretty well satisfied, and also Tony was... sort of stupid when it came to people who liked him flirting earnestly. “Well, he should get to show off. He’s like a fairy. If he doesn’t get enough attention, he’ll die.”

“Huh,” Tony asked, bewildered. “What the hell does that mean? I feel like I would have preferred to be called a slur.”

Bucky was not going to explain Peter Pan to him when he was halfway naked. He put a hand to his lower back and launched him forward. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m concerned,” Tony continued, arms pinwheeling so he wouldn't fall, but he also caught himself on the next step and took a moment to preen before he began a very smug strut around the room.

“It’s weird that you can have questions and walk around like you don’t,” Bruce admitted, even as he obediently turned to watch him and clapped when Tony turned and strutted back past him.

Clint pointed at Tony with a breadstick. “I think that’s just rich people shit. They all walk like that at galas and stuff.”

“Those panties are very becoming on you, Tony,” Thor offered, taking his hand so Tony could do a spin in place. “The lace is obviously handmade.”

“Huh?” Sam yelped, then moaned and covered his face. “Don’t tell me how much they were.”

“That would be gauche,” Tony scoffed, even as he turned on one heel and went strutting the other way. Bucky waved a hand at him, and he obediently pulled the hem of his shirt up to show off the panties more. “If you guys ever want to test your card-counting ability against Bucky’s, just say the word, and I’m ready to strip.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Natasha informed him, but she couldn’t quite temper all the fondness from it. She reached out to run her thumb over the top hem of his panties and gave a surprised but pleased hum at the quality. Distracted, she added, “Only if I can get Sam to be my Doll.”

Sam glanced at her sourly, still sulking about nearly being eaten by a Doberman to distract the guards so she could get in. “I’m gonna wear my ugliest underwear if you make me do that.”

“Boo, you have beautiful muscles, Sam,” Tony informed him, stepping away from Natasha so he could do another loop around the couches. “We could kiss a little. Make everyone jealous.”

Sam scowled at him, but it quickly faded into a thoughtful squint. “…Well, if it would make everyone jealous.”

Steve said nothing, eyes glued to Tony's ass. Bucky was torn between thumping him and joking that if he wanted to sketch Tony, all he had to do was ask. There was something in his blank expression that filled him with dread, though. Bucky took a step toward Tony, suddenly feeling hunted. Before he could say anything though, Steve stood, eyes on Bucky, face stony. The muscle that wordlessly signified his annoyance was ticking in his jaw. His hands curled into fists. Bucky shifted his weight back and forth nervously.

“Do you remember when we were roommates right out of the army,” Steve began, taking one very deliberate step toward him.

Bucky did, and he suddenly remembered why he’d happily agreed to Sam living with them even though he’d had his reservations about him at the time. He held his hands up in supplication. “Listen, this is different. Tony’s different. Steve please don’t kill me in front of him—”

“Remember how I told you I’d kill you if I had to watch one more person come out of your room with a teeth-shaped bruise on their ass?” Steve continued, rolling up his sleeves.

Bucky barely had time to scream before Steve lunged at him, trying to dodge out of the way. Steve got him in a choke-hold though, and he scrabbled uselessly at his arm.

“Huh, so he’s just always been like this,” Tony mused thoughtfully, coming to a stop by Thor as he watched them.

Thor tipped his head back to frown up at him as Bucky finally twisted, bringing Steve onto the ground with him so they could scuffle properly. “Are you going to help him, or…”

Tony scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, my job is to look pretty and pay for things. If they break any furniture, though, I am going to be very upset.”

They were getting rather close to the coffee table, and it scared Bucky enough that he finally twisted, flipping Steve onto his back. He dropped elbow-first into his gut just for good measure.

Natasha watched, looking vaguely interested, then turned back to Tony. “What do you see in this guy, anyway?”

Tony shrugged. “When you guys told him to flirt with me, he came in hot with ‘sit on my face and break my neck so I die happy,’ and I’m easy.”

“Tony no,” Bucky gasped, horrified, but it was too late.

Steve sat up as if he wasn't even holding him down, expression thunderous, and Bucky barely had time to yelp before he was pinned to the ground again. “He was not supposed to flirt with you. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to be there at all.”

“I was backing up Natasha,” Bucky choked out, even though it was a lie. Natasha had had everything well in hand, and Bucky had simply been mesmerized by Tony's amused smile as he handed over a USB to her when he realized she was trying to steal files about Obadiah Stane for someone’s lawsuit against him.

“I didn’t need backing up,” Natasha told him sternly, then sighed and rolled her eyes at Tony, unimpressed. “Will you do something before Steve kills him and feels bad?”

“I won’t,” Steve barked as Bucky began slapping along his arms and shoulders. “I hope he dies. I deserve this.”

Tony tsked and rolled his eyes again. “Fine. But I expect a garlic knot and a piece of veggie pizza when I get up for breakfast in the morning.”

Clint reached forward and obediently shut the box with the veggie pizza in it. “Done.”

“You guys are so obedient when you’re not breaking laws,” Tony huffed fondly, shaking his head, but then Steve got Bucky in a position to choke him again. Bucky made a very dramatic and genuinely frightened noise, because he was only ninety-percent sure Steve wouldn’t actually kill him, and that ten percent uncertainty was scaring him. Tony stared at him for a moment, then sighed and began toward the bedroom again. “I’ll let you put a bite mark on the other side.”

Bucky paused as the words registered. Luckily, Steve had paused as well, apparently so shocked that he had to figure out his next move. Bucky took the chance to wedge his arm under Steve's hip and throw with all his might. Once he was free, he didn't look back, rushing up behind Tony to the comical sound of Steve yelping and two hundred pounds of beefcake hitting the floor six feet away from where they’d originally been sitting. Tony didn’t yelp as Bucky scooped him up into his arms, but he figured that that was because Tony had been expecting it. It had probably taken him a few seconds longer than Tony had expected. But then, Steve had had him pretty successfully pinned.

“Don’t bother us until tomorrow,” Bucky tossed over his shoulder, harried.

“If you kill Bucky, I’ll be very upset,” Tony added, mostly to Steve, but also in general. “Also I’m still calling Doom. You can’t stop me.”

“God, things used to be so simple,” Steve sighed, just before Bucky slammed the door behind them.

[bitetonysassfest]

Well, beloveds! So ends another season of getting Tony's 🍑 bit! If you'd still like to contribute, you absolutely can! Just remember to tag me here at @bitetonysassfest and I'll make sure to share it with others!

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! NSFW Saturday Trope: Mind Control/Brainwashing Kink: Monster Fucking

I must be in a mood this week idk. Anyway! Dubious Consent: Bucky is mind controlled and cannot consent. Tony would rather not have sex with him in this state but is willing to if it means rescuing him sooner. It's not great! But he'll do a lot of things he doesn't want to do for the people he loves.

This is almost certainly going to end in V-shaped polyam but at this point it is Steve regretfully allowing his boyfriend (who he wants to be his mate so so so badly) to take one for the team because Tony doesn't know how not to sacrifice himself.

You can read this on ao3 (here). Look out for under the cut!

--

“Far be it from me to kink-shame anyone,” Tony began after a brief pause.

“Okay,” Steve sighed, rubbing a paw over his muzzle tiredly.

“I just don’t understand what Hydra is getting out of… keeping Bucky in a brothel,” Tony offered, waving his hands at the building. “He was one of their best assets. They get him back and then just. What. Is this punishment?”

Steve rolled his gaze over to Natasha, too exhausted to speak. She took the cue easily, turning from where she was examining one of the screens that would soon be showing them camera and microphone outputs. Her mandibles clicked before she answered, “It’s punishment, sure. But it’s also to get the collar controlling him adjusted properly so they have complete control over him without compromising his abilities. The less he fights back during…” She paused briefly, which meant she was trying not to look visibly upset and failed. “Appointments… the closer they are to calibrating the collar properly. And let’s be honest—there are a lot of shitty people in power who would love to be able to say they mounted an alpha werewolf.”

“Alpha,” Steve grumbled, scowling so hard his ears pinned back against his head. “That’s not even how it works.”

“Steve,” Natasha sighed, rolling all of her eyes, and Tony reached out and put his hand on Steve’s arm. She waited a beat to see if he’d continue grumbling, then turned her gaze back on Tony. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Tony?”

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying not to give off a wave of anxiety. The stink of it would fill the van, and then Steve wouldn’t let him leave. He wasn’t really okay with any of this, but if they waited any longer, Bucky would suffer more as they came up with a different plan, and he was even less okay with that. “I just,” he started, swallowing thickly when Natasha and Steve’s attention was focused on him, their gazes pinning him in place. “…I wish it wasn’t like this.”

Natasha’s gaze softened, and Steve put his paw over Tony’s hand where it was still resting on his arm. “We do, too,” Natasha answered quietly. “If there was any other way to do this quickly, we wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Steve will come and get you the moment that you decide you need to stop,” Natasha added, and her eyes darted up to Steve before falling to meet Tony’s. “Even if it fucks up the mission. We swore to protect you.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed again, a little annoyed this time, but he figured he couldn’t blame them. He was the only human member on the team. Everyone took his safety more seriously because he was less likely to heal if he got injured. He’d even had to sign a contract saying that he understood that Steve might turn him in the case that he was fatally injured—not because Steve would want to, but because his instincts would drive him to in a last-ditch effort to save him.

And now he had to walk into a Hydra-run brothel filled with monsters and fuck a teammate who couldn’t consent while Natasha snuck in and knocked out all the guards so they could sneak him back out, because every other plan involved would take days longer, and they wanted Bucky to suffer as a little as possible. Tony had to admit, if only to himself, that if he’d known this would be something he might have to do, his pen would have hesitated before he signed. But, they were here now, and he did agree that the sooner they rescued Bucky, the better. So. He didn’t really have a choice now.

He looked up at Steve from under his lashes, and Natasha turned back to the computers immediately to give them some semblance of privacy. “Steve, what if—”

“Bucky is not going to be angry at you,” Steve told him firmly, reaching out to cup his cheeks and tilt his head back so Tony couldn’t turn his eyes away. “He’ll be angry at Hydra. Him being unable to consent is not your fault. And if you need time away from the team after this, we will make sure you get that time. Okay?”

“I just don’t want to be another person who hurts him,” Tony admitted, frowning.

“You won’t,” Steve promised, and it bolstered him a little, how sure Steve was. “You’re saving him. And if you decide you’re not comfortable at any point, you leave. Bucky has healed from being a Hydra pawn before. He’ll do it again.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed. He glanced at Natasha, frowning, then looked back up at Steve, whispering, “But what about us?”

Steve huffed, taking a step to the side to shift Tony out of Natasha’s view, as if she couldn’t still hear them. “I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t feel a little torn up about it,” he admitted. “You going off to fuck someone else while I’m courting you. But it’s… fine. Not fine,” he huffed when Tony frowned in concern, scowling a little. “But. Doable. This is to get the pack safely intact again. So. There’s a lot I’m willing to do to make sure everyone makes it safely home today, Tony.” He paused briefly, then smiled a little, thumbs rubbing along Tony’s cheekbones. “And even more I’m willing to do just to make sure you get home safe. I’m not kidding, Tony. Say the word, and I will rip through this building like paper.”

Tony swallowed thickly, nodding a little. That did make him feel better. If Steve could do this, he could do this. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, and then leaned in, mouth opening, and Tony couldn’t help but stare at all of his sharp teeth as they came closer.

Clint shuffled his way through the sunroof of the van at that point, though, and his taloned foot grasped Steve by the scruff and yanked him backward. “Stop fucking trying to slobber all over him right before he has to do important shit, you idiot!”

Tony and Natasha watched as Steve fell to the floor with a loud yelp. “You really do try and slobber all over him,” Natasha offered, and Tony couldn’t help a laugh as Steve shouted about it not being his fault the wolf in him wanted Tony covered in his scent at all times.

“Anyway,” Clint called over Steve’s gruff barking. “I’ve placed all the cameras and microphones I safely could. There’s only one pretty big blind spot right as you go in, but it’s close enough to the door that Steve will hear it if you’re in distress. Say the word, and he’ll get to you.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed. It did make him feel better that they were going to be able to watch him at all times. And Steve had once torn the door off a coffee shop because another customer was trying to cut the line and Tony hadn’t been letting him, so. He’d be the safest he could possibly be, probably.

Natasha turned in her seat, mandibles twitching in amusement. “Well. I suppose we should go before Steve and Clint get in a fistfight. Bruce and Thor are still up the street for backup, right?” she added, before Steve could thump Clint across the wings.

“Yes.” Clint nodded, sharp eyes glinting in the light from the screens. “If Steve can’t get to you guys—”

“Which I will,” Steve grumbled mulishly.

Clint slanted him a disgusted glare. “But if he can’t! Thor and Bruce are willing to raze the building to get Tony out.”

“…Rescuing as many as they can, of course,” Tony offered after an awkward pause.

“Eh,” Clint replied, shrugging and flapping his wings.

“Obviously they will,” Natasha answered hastily.

Tony turned to stare at her, because that didn’t sound particularly believable, but before he could say anything, she shrank down into her more spindly form and waved her front legs at him. He pursed his lips at her, just to show that he was displeased, but obediently held his hand out so she could crawl up his arm and onto his shoulder. She’d crawl away to start poisoning Hydra agents as soon as he brushed up against a wall or leaned against a desk or something, unnoticed as a tiny spider. Her biggest nemesis in this form was a flyswatter.

“Alright,” Tony said, brushing his hands down his body to brush away imaginary dust. “Well. Here we go. Wish me luck.” But he’d barely reached out for the handle of the door before he felt a quick, sharp pain in his left ass cheek just before he could. “Ow!” He turned, scowling, because he was already anxious enough as it was, and he didn’t need Steve’s teeth in his ass to help with that.

Clint flapped his wings to get himself as high as possible, then slammed his entire body down on top of Steve’s. “You must think you’re so cute,” he screeched, beating Steve with his wings.

Steve snarled back at him, frantically trying to dodge the more dangerous flaps. “Clint, I was just trying to clear the air, wait, wait—”

“…I’m going now,” Tony offered. He was suddenly glad for the escape. So. Maybe it had been a good thing that Steve had given him a little nip to the butt. He’d never say so, though, especially not with Natasha irritably clicking the sharp ends of her mandibles in his ear.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! NSFW Monday 24 Trope: Only One Bed Kink: Hunter/Prey Dialogue: “Kitten, don’t make me tell you twice.”

Another warning for dubious consent! The dubious consent is NOT about the sex between Tony and Bucky, Tony was the one who jumped Bucky's bones first and Bucky was like "This guy makes terrible decisions! Oh no and he's smart! I'll have to give him some sort of enrichment." and Tony is sorta into it??? Like the sex is great but he is FOCUSED on figuring out how Bucky keeps abducting him. He's more scared of SHIELD than he is of Bucky, mostly because SHIELD treats him like getting abducted is his fault. Which is awkward, because he is still a consultant/contractor for SHIELD.

There's more explanation about the dubious consent in the end notes of my fic on ao3 (here). Look out for under the cut!

--

Tony woke up on a bed, which he thought was strange, because he distinctly remembered running through the woods, one hand reaching out desperately toward the light beginning to filter through the leaves. He blinked slowly, shifting on the mattress, and sighed when he heard the clank of metal. There was a shackle around his left ankle. He would bet that he’d barely be able to get off the bed if he tried to test the length of the chain. He shifted his hips slowly, and—yep, okay, he could feel something slippery all the way down to his knees. He’d been lubed up while he’d been unconscious. Reluctantly, he tipped his head down anyway, nose wrinkling in frustration when he found he was bare but for the metal wrapped around his ankle. He knew to expect that, though. Bucky had learned better after Tony had traced one of his safe houses via particulates, and he was not a man who repeated mistakes.

“You’re not original, you know,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. Bucky would hear it. He only stayed in places three hundred square feet and smaller. There were fewer windows to worry about, and the ones there were, he could see from all angles.

Bucky replied a second later, confirming his theory. “I don’t have to be original. Stop running, and I’ll stop chasing.” He slid the pocket door to the bathroom open, using his free hand to idly towel at his hair. There were three long gashes on his damp chest. Tony didn’t remember scratching him, but he must have, badly, if the marks were still on his chest.

Tony flexed his hand, glancing at his nails, but they’d already been carefully cleaned, and he figured that he’d have to sit through being washed again once Bucky was finished with him. “Once I figure out how you keep sneaking past my security teams, I’ll stop running.” He watched Bucky approach the bed, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to give me any hints?”

“You’re a genius. You’ll figure it out yourself,” Bucky assured him, tossing the towel into a laundry basket. Probably to be incinerated later. “Turn over. Otherwise I’m gonna make love to you, and I know you hate that.”

“Fuck off,” Tony huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not the one who has to deal with the media every time you kidnap me.”

Bucky breathed in, then let it back out slow and considering. “Kitten,” he finally said. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

Tony didn’t move, instead staring up at the ceiling. SHIELD had taken to giving him polygraph tests, and while he was pretty good at making them useless, he was getting tired of how clammy his hands got when he was asked, ‘And did you try to resist at any point?’ As if they suspected he was the one Bucky got his information from. As if he was helping the Winter Soldier, notorious serial killer and seeming ghost story. He wasn’t, but Captain America’s suspicions apparently couldn’t be soothed with polygraphs anymore, and Tony wasn’t sure if anyone would believe him if he said, ‘oh, no, the Winter Soldier just decided to start kidnapping me for wild sex after dropping the heads of Hydra agents at my feet.’ Even if he explained the heads belonged to the agents who had ordered Bucky to kill his parents, he doubted anyone, even his closest friends, would believe he’d be okay with that.

“You’re such a brat. I shoulda let you run right into that lake,” Bucky grumbled, and Tony felt a cold hand curling over his hip, the only warning he got before he was unceremoniously flipped over onto his belly with a startled ‘whumph.’ “Woulda served you right, gettin’ all wet and shivery.”

“And then I could blame you for my resulting pneumonia,” Tony began, perhaps a bit too smugly, because then he felt a pain in his left ass cheek. “Ow!” He squirmed, but Bucky had his hands clamped tightly on his waist, which—both of them? It made him realize the pain wasn’t like a spank at all, didn’t come with an accompanying slap, and he turned his head, letting out a snarl when he saw Bucky had dug his teeth into his ass. “If you shake your head with my ass in your mouth, I am never defending you when people call you a Hydra dog again,” he snapped.

Bucky slanted his gaze up at him, visibly scowling around his mouthful of Tony’s ass, but finally, reluctantly, he loosened his jaw. He didn’t allow Tony a chance to be smug again, though, instead dropping his hand so he could plant a slap right over the wet spot, hard.

“Ah!” Tony gasped, unable to help his entire body jerking in response, chain rattling where it was attached to the bed frame.

Bucky spanked him again, just for good measure, then crawled up his body so he could pin him from hip to shoulder, his own knees wedging Tony’s open so he couldn’t get the leverage to try and flip them. “You’re such a smug asshole,” he grumbled, hands wrapping around Tony’s wrists when he tried to smack at him and pinning them down beside his shoulders. “So sure you know what I want, you haven’t even wondered why this time is different.”

Tony squirmed uselessly as Bucky slowly dropped his weight on him, pinning him to the mattress. He was suddenly filled with anxiety. Bucky usually waited months at a time before he abducted him again, because his personal security always ramped up right after he was freed, not to mention his friends keeping a closer eye on him. His last kidnapping had only been a month ago. It was too soon. Bucky would only be able to keep him safely for a few days. Maybe not even that long. Tony glanced frantically about the room. There were no go bags. No weapons. He didn’t even see a gun on the nightstand to taunt him with, unable to reach it. This wasn’t a safe house, he realized with a real shock of fear. Bucky had cleaned it from top to bottom. He expected to never come back. He was sacrificing it to the authorities.

“You’re not going to leave me here,” Tony began, panicked, then groaned when he felt the head of Bucky’s cock at his hole, pushing in slow and steady no matter how much he squirmed. “Bucky, you’re not going to leave me here,” he tried again, voice cracking as Bucky drew his hips back and then thrust right back in, ramming over his prostate hard enough that his toes curled. “Please, Bucky, don’t, don’t let them see me like—”

“Shhh,” Bucky hushed, turning his head to press his lips to Tony’s ear. “This is just to protect you from SHIELD. So they know exactly what I do to you when I have you. Why you don’t like to talk about it.”

“They’re going to look at me like I’m broken,” Tony gasped, trying one last time to squirm. When Bucky didn’t give even a hint of backing off, he fell limp, eyes hot with tears. “They’ll look at me like they did when I came back from Afghanistan, like I’ll never recover, and—You’re going to give them your DNA, just like that?!”

“All over your back and ass,” Bucky agreed, then caught his earlobe between his teeth and tugged lightly.

Tony tried to wriggle out of his grip, but Bucky held fast. “You asshole, I should have made you make love to me,” he whimpered. “So you’d have to look me in the eye when you told me I’d have to pretend to be a victim again.”

“Even if the sex is consensual, abducting you is definitely not,” Bucky huffed. He let go of Tony’s right wrist, but he barely had a chance to try and push against the mattress for leverage before Bucky’s hand was gripping his chin, twisting his head so their eyes could meet.

Tony’s breath hitched at the genuine regret in his gaze. “Let me escape so it can at least be on my terms,” he begged helplessly.

“SHIELD knows I don’t let my victims escape,” Bucky answered softly. “And Steve will stop suspecting you and start protecting you from SHIELD if I do this.”

Tony tried to find some modicum of anger. “I won’t forgive you if you leave me for fucking Captain America to find—”

“Hydra has infiltrated SHIELD, Tony. I need him to protect you,” Bucky whispered, and all the fight went out of Tony’s body all at once.

Bucky was a serial killer, and his victims of choice were Hydra agents, but that was a carefully guarded secret. Tony had thought it was because most law enforcement held back information, and Hydra being hunted down was something even most cops would overlook. He hadn’t realized the reason he was being questioned was because the Hydra agents within SHIELD were trying to figure out how close the Winter Soldier was to them.

“Let Steve protect you, Tony,” Bucky begged, and there was genuine fear in the tremor of his voice. “For me.”

Tony had never heard him so desperate. So scared. It made something inside him turn to ice. Bucky would never do this unless he was truly concerned. He had once even admitted he never wanted to share any part of Tony with anyone else as he washed him down. He’d hate for Tony to be found this way almost as much as Tony himself. He buried his face in the thin blankets covering the mattress beneath him, sucking in a wet breath. He wished Bucky had talked to him first. But he understood why he hadn’t. Anything they would have come up with together would have been suspect. This way, he was well and truly going to be seen as an innocent victim rather than an abetter.

“We won’t be able to see each other again,” he whispered, the realization making him grip his hands into fists. “Steve will always be watching me.”

“He’ll take care of you,” Bucky promised, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, and Tony sobbed as Bucky started fucking into him faster, each thrust punctuated with the slap of Bucky’s hips meeting his ass. “Don’t worry, Tony. He’ll take care of you for me.”

.-.

The door to the tiny studio smashed to pieces under Steve’s boot. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. That wasn’t right. The Winter Soldier would never hide out in a safe house without some major fortifications, if only to give himself more time to escape. He hesitated outside the doorway, but then he saw the end of a bed, a chain, a foot in a shackle, and he found himself rushing in without checking for traps. His heart was in his throat. The Winter Soldier had kidnapped Tony Stark from his lake house twelve hours ago. It had been out of character. He usually waited. It made him fear for Tony’s safety. He also selfishly, desperately didn’t want to turn Tony’s stiff body over and find Hydra’s emblem branded into his skin. He didn’t think he could take it if Howard’s son had turned to Hydra.

But when he got further into the room, saw more of Tony’s body, to his great relief, the man was still alive. He was lying on his stomach, hands gripped into loose fists by his head. His vacant eyes didn’t even move toward his rescuer, though, and Steve slowed to a stop a few steps in. That wasn’t right. Tony had always spat vitriol, looking slightly bewildered and a little scared, when they brought him into medical. This… this wasn’t right. For him to be so still. So quiet.

It struck Steve a moment later as his eyes drifted down to catalogue for injuries. There was something white smeared along his back, and as his gaze moved down to his bruised ass, he realized why, nausea making his stomach roil and heave. He swallowed against the urge to vomit. That wasn’t right. The Winter Soldier had never forced himself on someone. Ever. No matter who his victim had been, the only evidence he’d even touched them was if he’d broken their necks. So why would he force himself on Tony? Why now? Why after all this time?

“Oh,” he breathed, disgust quickly turning to rage. “You fucking asshole. I should have let Natasha shoot you,” he whispered under his breath before moving to approach Tony. She’d had a shot lined up. It had been his moment of weakness that had made her miss it.

Tony finally glanced at him, and then he flinched, a noise of pure fear coming out of his mouth as he moved to scramble across the mattress. He let out a cry of desperation just bordering on pain as the chain attaching him to the bed by the shackle went taut after only a few inches, clawing at the blankets as if that would help.

“Tony, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve soothed quickly, setting his shield aside so he could kneel on the mattress and carefully grab him so he couldn’t injure himself. He was shaking under Steve’s hands. “It’s okay,” he assured again gently, carefully pulling Tony into his arms. “Come here.”

“Steve,” Tony whispered, and his face flushed, eyes drawn down in shame. “You’re going to get it all over—”

“They can clean the uniform,” Steve cut in, cradling him close to his chest. “Are you okay?” Tony grimaced, and he quickly rephrased, “Are you injured?”

Tony tucked his head under his chin, as if Steve wouldn’t be able to feel him tremble against his body, in his arms. “Just… wet,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Steve nodded, looking around for Tony’s clothes, but it looked like the Winter Soldier had taken them with him. He scowled. The least he could have done was leave Tony’s clothes, if he was going to leave him covered in cum. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t get enough evidence out of that. He pulled Tony closer, pressing his lips to the top of his head as he murmured, “Close your eyes.”

He waited a beat, but Tony didn’t balk, so he figured he was in no mood to argue. He adjusted Tony in his arms, then reached down to grasp the chain and yank. It popped free of the bed easily, and Tony flinched at the sound. He examined the length of the chain and figured Tony wouldn’t have gotten the leverage to yank at it himself without getting injured. He spared the room one last look, but it was completely barren. There was a spot where it looked like a basket had sat before, but was now gone. Probably too much evidence, he figured, scowling again.

“I’ll have to use the blankets to cover you,” he warned. He doubted Tony wanted to be wrapped up in the blankets he’d been assaulted on, but he figured Tony would hate being carried out of the apartment naked even more.

“I want to go home,” Tony whispered, shoulders sagging.

Steve paused, hand halfway out to grab the blankets. He should take Tony to SHIELD medical. But now, seeing him like this, he couldn’t help but feel anger as he remembered the way the SHIELD doctors had questioned him, as if Tony was a suspect rather than the victim of an abduction. He’d always been clean when the Winter Soldier dropped him before, had emotionlessly recounted how he’d been washed down thoroughly, including scrubbing under his nails. Suddenly, the insidiousness of the situation struck him. Even if Tony had admitted to being assaulted, there would have been no proof. And there had already been rumors among the higher-ups that he was letting himself be kidnapped. The Winter Soldier had done this on purpose. There would be no way to doubt that Tony had been kidnapped for reasons that had nothing to do with him being a double agent now.

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around him carefully to pull him into a hug.

Tony shuddered, sucking in a wet breath, and buried his face in Steve’s shoulder. “I want to go home,” he repeated, voice cracking.

“Okay,” Steve agreed readily. SHIELD would have to take his word for it, he decided. After all the suspicion and doubt Tony had had to endure, he wouldn’t make him suffer through a medical examination if he didn’t want one. They could get samples from the substance smeared on his uniform if they forced the issue. He ran his gloved hand through Tony’s hair. “It’s okay, Tony. I’ll take care of you.”

Tony stiffened in his arms, then let out a sob from deep in his chest, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Steve.”

Steve hugged him tighter, fighting off the urge to take Tony home and then hunt down the Winter Soldier to beat him to death with his bare hands. He was going to kill Bucky the next time they crossed paths.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! NSFW Sunday 23 Trope: Werewolves Kink: Gun Play Dialogue: “Don’t you want to play with me?”

WARNING! There is some dubious consent in this! The dubious consent is that it's not entirely clear if Tony wants to get back together/have sex (in my mind he does but I admit it does not necessarily read that way). Also Tony is not entirely aware what he's consenting to when he decides he wants to be Steve's still and wants Steve to be his. Take care of yourselves.

You can read this on ao3 (here). Watch out for under the cut!

--

As Steve felt the cold barrel of a gun being pressed under his jaw, he remembered exactly what Bucky had spat at him before he’d split away from the pack. ‘You’re not brave. You’re stupid.’

He could sense the silver bullets chambered in the gun. It made his fur stand on end, made goose flesh rise under his guard hairs. The fear of the gun was secondary compared to the terror his position caused, though; being on his back, belly exposed, forced to still any efforts to flash his fur like a white flag like his instincts demanded in this position. The hunter on top of him quelled any escape attempts by holding a silver hunting knife against his stomach, forcing him still and compliant. Steve wasn’t sure which scared him more, the gun or the knife.

“Tony,” he tried, human words feeling strange in his lupine mouth. “Don’t you want to play with me?”

Tony’s glare hardened, and Steve watched him grind his teeth against the urge to swear at him. “You left me, Steve,” he finally spat. He pulled the knife away from Steve’s stomach, but the gun stayed where it was.

Steve slanted his gaze down to watch Tony expertly flip the knife in his fingers and slide it back into the sheath on his thigh. It was always hot to see how capable he was. Then the gun pressed harder against his jaw, and he obediently lifted his head. He kept his eyes carefully trained to the left of Tony’s gaze. “Hunters were going after Bucky’s whelps. I had to help him.”

“You could have left that to me. They were on my property. I would have had legal protection!” Tony snapped, leaning back where he was still straddling his waist.

The movement was all the warning Steve got before the gun was pulled from pressing against his chin. Then a sharp burst of pain exploded over the left side of his head—Tony had fucking pistol whipped him. He ground his teeth against the painful throbs, lips curling back to show them off in threat as he blinked too-human tears out of his eyes. He managed to rumble out an offended ‘fucking ow’ before the gun was pressed back against his chin, pushing until his entire throat was exposed, and the position finally sent a real shock of terror through him.

“And now you’re back here,” Tony hissed, leaning over Steve to make sure he had his attention. “Acting like I didn’t have to fix your mess with the authorities—I had to promise to take responsibility for any other murders you or your pack committed, Steve!”

“But they didn’t care if humans were indiscriminately killing us,” Steve growled, though he managed to swallow back the angry snarl that wanted to come with it.

“I cared!” Tony shouted, and his hand twitched as if he wanted to hit Steve with the gun again, but he managed to keep a steady grip on it anyway. “I could have said they were trespassing! I could have said they were poaching! Those were human crimes, and I would have been allowed to protect my property!”

“We’re not your property,” Steve began angrily.

“You were mine!” Tony bellowed, and then all at once, he seemed to draw into himself, all of his emotion packed away neatly into a little box and hidden away, shrinking without his anger to fuel him. “You were mine,” he repeated, barely above a whisper. He sat back, dragging the gun away from Steve’s face. “And you said I was yours.”

Steve found the rage at being called property died in him immediately. Even the more human part of him that had bristled at being owned was cowed, and he could only watch, helpless, as Tony ran a hand over his face, shuttering his anger away, along with any other emotion. Suddenly, he realized that Tony had never meant to kill him. It wasn’t revenge that had had him flipping and pinning Steve with silver weapons—it was hurt. Showing the skills that Steve could have depended on instead of his own teeth and claws, if he’d been able to fight past the wolf instinct to protect his own. “Tony,” he tried, sitting up a little.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tony huffed, sounding more tired than angry, and pushed himself to his feet. “You made your choice.”

“And you think that was easy for me?” Steve asked angrily. “You think I wanted to leave the warmth of your arms? The safety of your property? I heard Bucky howl and knew immediately that he would never make it over your boundary line before those hunters wiped out his entire pack. He wanted to seek your protection and couldn’t. I had to go.”

“It felt like it was easy for you when you just up and left without telling me anything,” Tony snapped, turning his back to him as he holstered his gun, a clear signal that he was finished with the altercation. “You kept talking about how we could make this work, but then you shut me out. You left. And then the town started accusing you of indiscriminately killing people and I was the one who had to clean up your mess. And you didn’t—” His breath hitched, just the slightest. “You didn’t even come back. You had to run around with Bucky and his family for—You made your choice,” he repeated, sharp, as if he had to remind himself too. He shook his head and started back toward the mansion, gripping his hands into fists before very deliberately loosening them.

Steve whined in the back of his throat, rolling onto his feet. He didn’t know how to explain that following Bucky’s pack hadn’t been a choice. How Bucky, Sam, and Natasha had been injured, and the pups had been scared, and he couldn’t have torn himself away no matter how hard he tried when he heard the pups crying. How he’d led them to a tiny den at the edge of Tony’s property and kept watch for weeks as everyone mended, a silent sentinel waiting to sacrifice himself for the punishment the humans would surely fight for. How relieved he’d felt when he heard whispers that Tony had saved him from retribution even though he didn’t have the full story of what had happened, had trusted that Steve wasn’t just a bloodthirsty beast like everyone else seemed to think.

He'd come home as soon as he could, but Tony didn’t have the wolf instinct to know that he would come home. And he’d still taken responsibility for him anyway. That had to mean something.

Steve padded after him, eyes sharp as he waited to see if Tony would pull a gun on him again, but Tony just looked… tired. Even as he tried to hide it. Steve figured that Tony wouldn’t say anything to him, only slam the door on his nose when he tried to follow him inside. That meant he had as long as it took them to walk through the woods and get back to the mansion to convince Tony that he was worth a second chance. He didn’t know how to do that when Tony seemed so sure that Steve leaving had been proof that he wasn’t important to him, that he believed he wasn’t Steve’s anymore.

But he was Steve’s. He hadn’t used the word ‘mate’ because Tony hadn’t understood what it meant. Steve had always assumed it was implied, though, especially when they panted it into each other’s mouths, ‘mine’ and ‘yours’ and ‘always.’

Always. Tony was always going to be his.

“Steve!” Tony yelped, reaching back instinctively to smack his muzzle when he reached forward to catch the seat of his pants in his teeth. “Ow!”

Steve didn’t let himself be deterred. He only had a moment to take advantage of Tony’s shock before his training kicked in, could already see his hand twitching toward his holstered gun. He reached out and grabbed Tony’s wrist, twisting it away from the gun, then snatched up the other one when he reached for the knife. Reluctantly, he tore his mouth away from Tony’s rear to get the leverage to muscle him down onto the ground without hurting him. Or without Tony managing to get loose and hurt him back.

“Steve!” Tony snapped again, kicking wildly as Steve carefully but firmly turned him over onto his back. His foot connected with Steve’s thigh, and it hurt an awful lot, but he ignored it, instead carefully wedging himself between Tony’s legs so he didn’t have the leverage to kick anymore. “What the hell are you doing?! If I get turned from a bite on my ass—”

“That’s not how turning works,” Steve said, even though he knew Tony was just saying it to get a rise out of him. He got both of Tony’s wrists grasped in one of his paws and pinned them down above his head. “Stop squirming.”

“You’re such an asshole!” Tony snapped, voice cracking as Steve carefully cradled his face with his other paw. He didn’t flinch away, though, even started to nuzzle into his palm before he remembered he was angry and stopped. “What are you doing?” he repeated sternly, as if he wasn’t pinned under Steve’s giant body.

“You weren’t mine,” Steve said, and then he continued, before the shock could turn to hurt, “You are mine. You have always been mine, and you will always be mine, until you or someone else puts a silver bullet right between my eyes.” He slid his free paw down Tony’s body, hooking his clawed fingers into the front of his jeans. “And I’m going to make sure everyone knows it. No more hiding away in your mansion, pretending I’m an obediently little dog. I am a wolf, and you are my mate, and I am going to make you sing it to the moon properly.”

“Steve,” Tony whispered, and he was too overwhelmed for Steve to parse what, exactly, he was feeling, eyes going big and damp like they always did when he didn’t understand what was happening but knew that it was important.

Steve let go of Tony’s wrists so he could drop his other hand and rip his pants open. The leather of his thigh sheath sliced under Steve’s claws easily, and the knife got tossed away with the tatters of Tony’s pants and underwear. The gun holster jerked away from where it was tied down to Tony’s leg, but the belt had been above his pants, so the gun thumped back into place. Steve barely had time to hook his hands under Tony’s knees before he heard the click of the hammer being pulled back, felt the cold barrel of the gun pressing to his skull, right between his eyes where he’d told Tony to shoot. He stilled, just for a moment, eyes crawling up Tony’s trembling body until they landed on his anguished expression.

“I don’t understand what lesson you’re trying to teach me,” Tony whispered, voice shaking, so much more scared than any other time Steve had tried to show him what being a werewolf meant—for him, for Tony, for both of them. Despite his obvious dismay, his grip on the gun stayed steady and sure, finger on the trigger instead of the guard.

Steve didn’t let that deter him. He’d made his choice. If Tony didn’t want him, he’d have to show him with a bullet. “Mate,” he growled, using his grip on Tony’s knees to spread his legs wide, until he heard the sub-vocal noise Tony made when he was at his limit. “Is forever, for me. You’re all I want. And if I can’t have you, I’d rather die.”

“Steve,” Tony began, breath hitching.

Steve didn’t wait, ducking his head so his lupine tongue could drag between Tony’s cheeks. He didn’t bother to savor the taste, drool dripping from his sharp teeth as he took a moment to lave at the welt his teeth had left. This wasn’t lovemaking; this was pure animal instinct, the wolf in him demanding him to take, to give himself over, to be vulnerable in front of the only other person he should be weak in front of.

Tony let out a startled cry, throwing his head back, and the sound of a gunshot exploding filled the air, the sharp whistle of a bullet just barely missing its target. Steve only had a moment to wonder if a second shot was coming before Tony’s hands grasped the fur on his jaws, could feel the end of the barrel of the gun burning hot against the edge of his ear because Tony hadn’t dropped it yet. Tony tugged on his fur, and Steve obediently let Tony pull him up his body, hips dropping to fill the space his head had been so Tony couldn’t close his legs.

Tony kept pulling until Steve’s damp nose butted up against his cheek, and he barely got his mouth open to pant out another cracked ‘Steve’ before Steve shoved his tongue into his mouth instead, because he knew Tony loved when he did that, even when he complained about dog breath and where his mouth had been. Tony didn’t push him away, and Steve couldn’t help a desperate sound, more animal than human, as he felt Tony’s shaking hands pull free so he could wrap his arms around his neck and hold him in place.

A moment later, Steve felt Tony’s heels digging into his back, legs curled over his hips, and he rutted forward hungrily, drawing his head back so he could drag his tongue over Tony’s face and throat, something in him burning hot and tender as Tony tipped his head back to show more of his neck off to him. He arched his back so that Tony’s clinging body could settle exactly where he needed him, paws clawing the shirt from his body so more of his scent could rub off on his skin. His cock settled between Tony’s cheeks, and he had one last human moment—it wasn’t enough, he hadn’t had the time to lick Tony properly—before Tony’s shaking hands cradled his face. He’d finally dropped the gun.

“I understand now, Steve,” Tony gasped, eyes full of emotion as they met his.

Tony must have made his choice too, Steve realized, because every hunter had had it drilled into them from birth that to meet a werewolf’s eyes was just as dangerous as meeting an aggressive dog’s.

“Fuck,” Tony gasped, and Steve whined, high-pitched and needy, as his rutting hips finally found their mark, sinking several inches of his cock in one go. Tony groaned, but the urge to bury himself in his mate’s body had Steve ignoring it, humping roughly up against Tony as he worked more and more of his cock into him. Tony let out a guttural, punched-out noise, hands gripping so tightly in his fur that Steve felt pinpricks of pain as it pulled at his skin. “Rearranging my guts was a euphemism, you fucking asshole,” he choked out, heels digging into Steve’s back.

Steve could only snarl at him, drawing his hips back and then rutting forward again. Tony was so small in his arms. He was dimly aware that he should be more gentle. Tony was human. Steve could so easily hurt him like this. Perhaps was hurting him like this, using his body without prep or care. But Tony hadn’t shot him, hadn’t even pushed him away. Steve could still sense the silver nearby, so the gun was still in reach. Tony was letting him do this to him, arms and legs still wrapped around him tightly, like he was afraid to let him go.

“Steve,” Tony yelped as Steve wrapped his arms around him, holding him firmly in place, and then threw his head back to wail as Steve began fucking him in earnest.

Steve had never fucked him like this before. He’d always kept some modicum of his humanity at the forefront, watching Tony for signs of pain or fear, even during the full moons. Especially during the full moons. He’d worried his hunger would lead to turning, or worse. Even on the occasions where Tony took precautions with silver jewelry and aconite, Steve hadn’t felt comfortable giving himself over to the moon entirely.

He wasn’t even thinking of the moon now. All Steve could focus on was the feel of Tony’s warm hole around his cock, the slick sound of it working him open. Tony was a light but steady presence in his arms, and every inward thrust punched a delicious, overwrought sound from him, dick hardening against Steve’s belly as he finally adjusted his grip to fuck him with effort towards his own pleasure. Tony’s grunts took on a reedy quality as Steve aimed his thrusts over his prostate, body spasming in his arms, knees digging into his sides. Tony was the perfect partner, taking every bone-rattling thrust without complaint, panting hot and overwhelmed against his neck.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” Tony croaked, burying his teary face in Steve’s fur.

Steve hadn’t either. He’d always pushed the wolf in him to the side when he’d fucked him, even when he was shifted into his more monstrous form. Perhaps he shouldn’t have. Without his human worries, all he wanted to focus on was wringing as many orgasms out of his mate as possible and getting his belly swollen with pups. He was dimly aware that Tony wouldn’t be having any, even with magical intervention, but that didn’t seem to matter to the wolf: He was going to knot Tony as many times as Tony allowed him to, carry him back to their den at the mansion, and curl around him to protect him until he recovered enough for round two. The entire territory would stink of them, and even humans would know it.

Tony tugged at his fur with an overwhelmed sob. “God Steve your knot-!” He sucked in a wet breath. “I can’t, I can’t, it’s been so long, I—”

“You’ll take it,” Steve promised, voice more wolfish rumble than actual words, and tipped his head to shove his tongue into Tony’s mouth again, muffling his wails and cries as he readjusted, hips shaking against the urge to simply punch into him, working his knot forward slowly. Tony’s hands worked uselessly where his fingers were tangled in Steve’s thick fur, clearly trying to free himself so he could push him away, but Steve just held him tighter, holding him still as he worked himself in, in, in—

Tony’s body went taut in his arms as he got caught halfway, too tight to pull out or force in. His back bowed, a wounded cry muffled by Steve’s own mouth escaping his lips as his body shook with effort. Then his hips hitched, once, twice, before the scent of his cum filled the air, and Steve jerked his head back to howl in triumph, rutting against Tony’s loosening body as his knot finally sank home. Now the entire world would know Tony belonged to him, and he belonged to Tony, and he’d have some recourse for sinking his teeth into the people who tried to make a pass at him, as if Tony wasn’t a good, loyal mate and—

“God,” Tony croaked, and then, “I’m done, you fucking—”

And then Steve saw stars again, finally letting go of Tony so that he could grasp his head with a confused growl. “Stop fucking pistol whipping me,” he snarled.

“If you fuck your knot in any further, it’s never going to come out!” Tony shouted back, and there was a real thread of fear in his voice that made Steve immediately reach out and cradle him close again. “It’s been months, and you just fucked your knot into me like I’m a fleshlight or something—”

“Like you’re mine,” Steve ground out, unable to help rutting forward once, twice more.

Tony made a punched-out sound, miserable and unable to hide just a little fear. “Oh. I can’t. Steve, please, I can’t.”

Steve didn’t tell him he’d be working him open well into the waning of the moon. He figured Tony would figure that out when he woke up with Steve’s tongue up his ass later. Instead, he carefully tipped Tony’s head back, lapping at the tears that stained his cheeks and kindly ignoring each time Tony let out an overwhelmed sob and more tears rolled from his eyes. He was sure Tony would never answer if it was because he was physically or emotionally overwhelmed, and quite frankly, he was glad he didn’t weep much in this form either.

“Oh, fucking god,” Tony moaned suddenly, leaning forward, like he was trying to crawl into Steve’s fur.

Steve wrapped around him protectively, bewildered, and swiveled his head to figure out what had upset him. He spotted it almost immediately, Bucky’s blue eyes glowing in the trees next to a pair of green ones. Bucky and Natasha. “Oh. Hi. We’re, uh. A little busy, and—why are you guys here?”

“…Heard a shot,” Bucky offered after a long pause, eyes roaming up and down their entwined bodies before carefully landing somewhere two inches to the left of Steve’s. “Decided we might as well come bury you.”

“I’m buried,” Steve answered flatly, and immediately regretted it when Tony jerked back to glare at him in affront before turning to scrabble for his gun. He wrapped his arms around Tony again frantically, rolling them away from it and the knife that he’d lunged for when the gun got out of reach.

Natasha stepped out of the trees, nose twitching as she took in the scene, Tony’s discarded weapons and shredded clothes. “Well. Glad to see you’ve worked this out.”

“It is not worked out,” Tony snapped, trying to wriggle free of Steve’s arms. “It’s the opposite of worked out and once I get Steve’s stupid knot out of me I will shoot all of you and—oh! Steve!”

Steve pinned Tony’s flailing hands to the ground and rutted his hips forward a few times, until Tony let out a wounded hiccup and turned his wet gaze away obediently, even as his own hips rocked upward, cock working its way back to hardness. Steve pulled his lips away from his teeth so he could bear them at Bucky and Natasha, hunkering down over Tony’s body protectively.

“Full wolf brain,” Bucky murmured, and Natasha offered a short nod before they both turned, trotting back into the trees. “We’ll come offer our congratulations later, then.”

“Much later,” Steve growled, and he would have told them just when they’d be happy to host them in the mansion, but then Tony was cradling his face again, sighing out a wounded, wanton ‘Steve,’ and he decided he didn’t actually care if he saw any of their pack again.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! NSFW Saturday 22 Trope: Fake Dating Kink: Pegging (mentioned) Dialogue: "I see the gift I got you fits well."

Just a warning that there IS some dubious consent between literally every other vampire and their "pet;" some of them definitely do not want to be there, but that's secondary to Tony and Natasha figuring out who kidnapped Wanda. Tony will absolutely do something about it later and Natasha will be happy and ready to assist.

Anyway! You can read this on ao3 (here). Also (here) is Tony's underwear and (here) is his robe. Look out for under the cut!

--

Tony was enjoying the novelty of going undercover a little too much, Natasha thought, hiding an amused smile behind the rim of her wine glass. She allowed herself to actually enjoy a sip of the blood she’d been given when she noticed the other vampires’ eyes lingering on Tony’s body. She enjoyed a fight, and it had been a long time since she’d really been given one. Watching Tony preen and twist to show off, knowing how hot and bothered it was making the room of vampires at large, was just icing on the cake.

Anyone else had been out of the question, of course, she thought idly, making her way over to the table of nibbles. Steve was a werewolf, and while there were plenty of them here, Steve had never been able to control his more bloodthirsty instincts when he was in danger. Clint had a nice body, but his flirtation erred on the side of sarcastic, and vampires would be too focused on breaking him to whisper secrets around him. Bruce turned into the Hulk, and even she found herself growing skittish around him, even though she knew he’d hate to hurt her. And Thor, well. He could barely function in human society without committing a serious faux pas—she wasn’t going to try and make him assimilate with the rest of the prey on offer.

That left Tony, who had cheerfully exclaimed that he’d been dealing with metaphorical bloodsuckers since he was six and his mother had bought him a tiny tuxedo for her galas, so he might as well try his hand with literal bloodsuckers. Natasha had felt the tiniest frisson of fear at the idea of bringing Tony, human and so unbearably delicate, into a vampire stronghold. But Tony had looked at her with his guileless smile and said he trusted she’d keep him in one piece, especially with the team on standby, and she’d been helpless to argue.

And she was glad she hadn’t. Tony was taking to showing off like a duck to water, managing a coy smile for the vampires they didn’t care about and flashing his ‘fuck me’ eyes at the ones they were trying to get dirt on. He was covered in nothing but a robe and lacy red thong, extra fabric simulating a set of garters in a way that drew the eye down his muscular thighs. The robe he wore over it was open, the dark red, see-through fabric offering only a smidgen of modesty. Natasha had thought the feathering along the hems had been a little tacky, but Tony had slanted her a sly grin and said, ‘It’ll come together.’ Reluctantly, she had to admit it had. She hated to be wrong, but she figured that was her fault, doubting Tony about anything to do with fashion.

Even the other prey seemed to be gravitating over to him where he was lounging on a velvet chaise with a glass of champagne. She’d seen him whisper what looked like a sweet nothing into a fairy’s pointed ear, had made her giggle, but her sharp eyes had caught the tiny business card he’d magicked up for her in case she ever needed to escape her vampire. She’d seen lots of those little cards, actually, but when she’d turned, checking out of the corner of her eye to see if anyone else had noticed, all the other vampires were whispering about how much they’d have to pay her to get a taste of her pet.

Natasha took another sip from her wine glass and huffed in amusement, finally making her way over to where Tony was getting up close and personal with a young minotaur. “Who is this, pet?” she asked, going for amused when really she wanted to warn him that just because the minotaur’s horns had been removed didn’t make it any less dangerous.

“I don’t know. I can’t understand him,” Tony answered cheerfully, putting a hand on the minotaur’s chest. “Don’t have to be able to speak to learn what he likes, though.”

Natasha watched the minotaur nervously pull its hoof-tipped fingers away from Tony’s hip and thigh, swallowing back the urge to laugh at how it was now obviously uncomfortable in her presence. Apparently, it was happy to paw at Tony when it could believe he was free game, perhaps even belonged to a weaker vampire. Natasha’s power preceded her, though, and quite frankly, Tony would have eaten a weaker vampire alive.

“I see the gift I got you fits well,” she offered, instead of acknowledging the minotaur again. She let her eyes glow a hungry red as she let them trace over the fabric covering his crotch. “Next time I’ll get you real garters, now that I know you like them.”

“Like when you snap them,” Tony simpered, and the minotaur let out a startled snort and stood, clomping away as quickly as it could without arousing any vampire’s hunting instinct. He pushed his lower lip out into a pout as he watched it go. “None of these other pets know how to have fun.”

Natasha bit back a snort, but she did allow herself to roll her eyes a little. “I’m sure something could be arranged, if you really wanted to have sex with a minotaur.”

“What’s the fun if it wouldn’t want you to watch it blowing my back out,” Tony grumbled, scowling.

Natasha rolled her eyes again, but she couldn’t help the fondness in her voice as she said, “Don’t be such a brat. Do any of the other toys interest you?”

Tony’s eyes went sharp as he glanced around at the other pets shuffling anxiously under the vampires’ gazes. Natasha took a moment to be impressed that to anyone else, he’d look hungry, speculative; to her, he looked just like any other hunting vampire, calculating and cruel as he took stock of strengths and weak points. He was still nursing the same champagne glass he’d received when they’re first arrived hours ago, she realized, watching him lift it to his mouth and take a tiny sip. All the empty glasses the staff had whisked away were from other prey, but he’d made them look like his. He was just as sober and watchful as she was.

“Do you want them scared or excited when they watch you peg me,” Tony finally asked, looking up at her from beneath his lashes.

Natasha took it as the warning it was—some of the other vampires were now watching them with interest and choosing to listen in. It was best to let them think she was still unaware. “Most prey gets scared when I split you open with nothing but spit and patience,” she offered, and Tony’s entire body shuddered in response. She allowed a smile that showed off her sharp fangs. “Can I help it that I like watching you cry? Prey looks best when it’s sobbing and begging. Turn over, pet.”

“I’m doing it because I want to, not because you told me to,” Tony huffed, setting his glass aside so he could roll over onto his stomach.

“I hope you pick someone obedient, my love. I hate breaking other vampires’ toys,” Natasha sighed, grabbing the feathered hem of Tony’s robe and tossing it upward, exposing his bare cheeks to the room at large. She heard a rush of whispers behind her but didn’t bother trying to focus on any of the conversations. They were all trying to figure out how to get she and Tony to their rooms now, trying to decide amongst themselves who would have the best secret to barter in an effort to be able to get Tony under them.

That wouldn’t be happening, of course. Tony would tell her who to invite up to their room, she’d make the requisite overtures, and then she’d truss them up for SHIELD as soon as they stepped foot into her rented territory. Someone was snatching magicians off the streets. Tony had probably already caught who had spells running through their veins and was just waiting on her to make her move before he pointed them out. She pressed one hand to the chaise to brace herself against and gave his right cheek a swat, hard enough that a red blotch formed under her palm, but not hard enough to shape to her fingers.

“Ah,” Tony gasped, eyes wide.

“Just reminding everyone who you belong to, pet,” Natasha purred, then dipped her head, sharp fangs puncturing his skin where she’d slapped him. She held him down as he attempted to jerk against her, letting out a howl of complaint. He really was the most dramatic person she’d ever had the pleasure of working with.

Tony continued to try and jerk against her as she retracted her fangs and lapped at the sluggishly bleeding wounds, whining and clawing at the fabric of the chaise. She was stronger than him, though, especially with his magic dampened, and she wasn’t inclined to move away and allow the other vampires to think her pet had any modicum of power over her. She would continue to pin him and eat her fill until he finally submitted to her, showing the rest of the vampires that he was her docile little plaything, and that they’d be lucky if she shared him with them. Even if they couldn’t taste the magic hidden inside him, he’d been doing his best to seduce them since he’d entered the room and happily dropped onto the chaise lounge she had him pinned him to.

Finally, Tony quieted, letting out the odd sob, as if he couldn’t even try to swallow them back as his trembling body softened to the fact that she was in control of it now. “My lady,” he finally croaked, pushing back against her.

Natasha leaned back, lifting a hand to check her lipstick, even though she knew it was perfect. “I believe it’s time to retire to our room, pet.”

“Yes, my lady,” Tony whimpered, successfully cowed, and allowed her to move him like a doll, pulling him upright onto the chaise again, wiping the mascara-tinted tears from his face with the hem of her dress. ��I was just trying to please you.”

“And you did,” Natasha answered, unable to keep genuine praise out of her voice. They were working so well together, she imagined they’d be invited to more parties, and she could finally get more in-depth information on the more secretive vampires. “I’ll let you choose your reward. What pet would you like, my love?”

Tony looked up at her with an expression of distrust, so she carefully curled her fingers into his hair and leaned in, so his lips were right next to her ear. “I don’t know if he has a pet.”

“Point him out to me,” she whispered back, cradling his head between her palms carefully, so she could look into his eyes. Her own glowed with the promise to protect him with bodily force, if necessary. “And I will find out.”

Tony stared up at her through his wet lashes, then finally managed to murmur, “That man with the emeralds sewn into his jacket. With the accent? I can practically taste Wanda’s magic whenever he comes close.”

“My beautiful, clever pet,” Natasha cooed, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, and Tony almost swooned. “My pretty ornament. Stay here. I must take one more walk around the ball before I can make arrangements.”

“I’m so hungry for it, my lady,” Tony whined, and the vampires around the room burst into whispers again.

“You are going to get us into so much trouble,” Natasha scolded under her breath as she finally released him and stood.

Tony flashed her a smug grin before falling loose and pathetic over the cushions again, whimpering about how he needed her to mount him or find somebody else to. “Even here,” he added, pushing his ass up, and Natasha barely had time to glare at him before the nearest group of vampires rushed over to begin plying her with compliments and reference the secrets they’d be willing to share if only they could find someplace private to tell her about them.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! NSFW Friday 21 Trope: Omegaverse Dialogue: “Just pull the car over!”

In this universe, unless an alpha/omega pair have complete trust in each other, omegas get too anxious during heat to have sex (and the smell of fear is so acrid that most alphas don't force the issue). Tony technically trusts Steve and Natasha enough it wouldn't be a problem, it's the irregularity and speed with which the heats hit him that make him too anxious for sex without betas to help soothe him.

Anyway! You can read this on ao3 (here). Watch out for under the cut!

--

It was not one of their better weekend getaways. Tony had warned them at the beginning of working together that his heats fluctuated ever since his injuries in Afghanistan, but none of them had really understood what that meant. They’d thought it was just his awkward way of saying he didn’t actually go through heats anymore, because admitting you were infertile as an omega was still seen as shameful, no matter how much omega rights had been furthered (or how much it hadn’t been his choice).

And then Tony had almost dropped his bowling ball on his foot, turned on his heel, and said, “I need to go home right now,” with such finality that even Clint got up from his seat without an argument.

It took everything in Natasha to keep from pulling over and climbing over the back seat, taking the curving mountain roads at a crawl with the hazards on. Once the terror of his heat unexpectedly starting in public had faded, the car had quickly filled with his pheromones, and with the windows up to keep it from disturbing innocent passersby, it had quickly grown cloying. Steve had been the first to break, burying his nose against Tony’s throat and whining high and reedy when Thor, bewildered, tore him away.

She could still hear his desperate ‘please, I need to be inside him’ echoing in her skull, Tony’s resulting whine, the smell of his heat getting stronger. Tony had once joked about being open to any of them helping him through his heats, but it didn’t seem like much of a joke now.

“How are you doing, Natasha?” Bruce asked, leaning next to her as much as his seatbelt would allow.

“I’ve been better,” Natasha hissed through gritted teeth. She gripped the wheel with white knuckles, reminding herself that now was not a good time to think about getting Tony bent over and mounted until he cried, no matter what her alpha instincts were telling her.

“Thor and I can get us back up to the cabin. You could help the others with Tony,” Bruce offered. “He’s already cramping up. He needs help.”

Some part of her wanted to jump at the chance, but another part of her wanted to keep going, get them back to the cabin Tony had rented for them, make sure he was safely ensconced in a plush bed with water and snacks at the ready. It seemed… unfair, that their first pack heat should be in the back of a van.

Natasha didn’t even realize she’d been letting out a fairly distressed growl until Bruce barked, sharp and authoritative, “Just pull the car over, Natasha!”

Natasha obediently pulled off to the side of the road before she could even really recognize that Bruce had ordered her to do anything. She spared one thought to wonder if he was just as uncomfortable as all of them but in the opposite direction, antsy because he couldn’t help, radiation having burned his pheromone receptors beyond repair. Then Tony gasped behind her, and she wrenched around against the seatbelt, forgetting about Bruce entirely.

Clint and Sam had dragged Tony between them, hands pawing over his chest, between his legs. His jeans were soaked all the way down to his knees, thighs trembling where they were spread open by the betas’ knees wedged under his own. As she watched, Clint produced a knife from… somewhere, and she felt a brief flash of protective aggression until she realized he was using it to slice Tony’s shirt open from collar to hem, flooding the van with more of Tony’s tantalizing scent. A knife. What an excellent idea.

Natasha cut through the straps of her seatbelt, hands shaking too much to bother with the button, and lunged over the middle seat so she could get back to where Tony was. Vaguely, she was aware of Thor sighing out a faint, if annoyed, ‘okay,’ but he didn’t have the pheromone receptors either. At least he could keep Bruce company.

Steve caught her by the scruff before she could leap on Tony, and she growled at him, twisting the knife to sink into his chest. Steve grabbed her wrist easily though, and he beared his teeth at her, grinding out a guttural ‘not yet.’ She considered trying to stab him again, but the part of her that deferred to him on the battle field was now also telling her that Clint and Sam pawing at Tony wasn’t an accident. They were only doing it because they’d been allowed. She wished she knew what Steve was waiting for.

Steve stared her down a little longer, but he must have found whatever he was looking for when she ducked her head, because then he was looking away, grunting something in Bucky’s direction, and Bucky clearly didn’t have to be given permission twice, because he crowded between Tony’s shaking thighs to latch their mouths together, quieting Tony’s needy whines and pleas, hands clamping down on his waist to steady him under Clint and Sam’s inelegant pawing.

Betas were safe-makers, Natasha reminded herself, dimly aware of the van beginning to move again. Tony had been giving off waves of distress as he’d carefully walked to the van, eyes darting around for danger, as if any of the team would allow an interloping alpha to snatch him away. Steve was especially sensitive to distress. He must still have been able to scent a tang of it under the cloying sweetness of Tony’s heat. Of course he’d have the betas lull Tony into a haze of security and arousal. It wasn’t like their knots would be able to satisfy him like he needed. She and Steve would have their turns. Tony would be soft and sweet for them by that point.

Sam curled his hand under Tony’s knee and lifted, spreading him open wider, and Natasha found herself lunging into the spot before the desire even truly registered, saliva filling her mouth as a fresh wave of arousal filled the space. Her teeth met denim, and the taste of omega slick flooded over her tongue as she closed her mouth over the soaking fabric, trying to bury her teeth as deep as they’d go. Tony jerked against her, letting out a yelp of shock, a hint of pain edging the end.

Steve grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back, shaking her. “Now they have to start all over you fucking dick,” he snarled, and Natasha fought the urge to wince as a sour tang of fear tinged the arousal in the cloud of pheromones.

“I’m not immune to the roundness of his ass,” Natasha began, and Tony let out a semi-hysterical giggle before Clint leaned in to cover his mouth with his own. Natasha let Steve shake her, unable to help a smidgen of embarrassment as he growled about how she’d read Tony’s file and how he hated being vulnerable and wasn’t she the one who had posited that he’d need at least an hour of beta attention only before he relaxed enough for an alpha knot. It didn’t stop her from hungrily licking the taste of Tony’s slick from her lips, though, and Steve shook her harder.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest!

NSFW Thursday 20 Trope: Wing Fic Dialogue: "I guess I'll just get off all by myself."

More AvAc! Because I feel like he’s the only one who could reasonably say the dialogue without it coming off as manipulative. You can read this on ao3 (here). Look out for under the cut!

--

Steve hadn’t really considered the difficulties about topping a peacock until Tony shed his clothes and turned to face him. His coverts had raised up into a fan around him again, like it had at the club, the blue-green eyes almost dizzying in the small space. Steve had thought his fan would have been easy enough to figure out, but Tony had explained that once things got hot and heavy, his muscles would relax, and they’d fall again. “Mm. That is.” He considered his next words carefully, then finally decided, “A lot of feathers.”

As kind as he’d been trying to be, it didn’t work, and he caught the first smidgen of insecurity he’d ever seen on Tony as he rubbed his arm and turned away, coverts already falling to half-mast. “Yeah, it… It’s definitely easier after I molt.” He swallowed thickly, then huffed, shaking his head. “Sorry. I know you wanted to top this time.”

“I don’t have to,” Steve hurried to assure him. It would have been nice, but he could pivot. Tony never left him regretting being the receiving partner, after all. Just because he’d been looking forward to finally returning the favor didn’t mean that he couldn’t wait a little longer.

Tony just shrugged, though, staring at his feet. His coverts fell a little more, the ends of his long feathers beginning to trail over the floor. “It’s okay, Steve. I know you like to have more time to prepare when you bottom.”

“Sure, but I don’t always have to,” Steve tried again, heart sinking along with Tony’s coverts as they finally fell flat, the eyes at the ends of his feathers bouncing along the carpet as he turned and took a step to fuss with the blankets on his bed. “Tony. Really. I can roll with this.”

“It’s fine,” Tony said again, disappointment carefully covered with cheer. “I’m not really in the mood for sex anymore anyway, so. I guess if I do get horny, I’ll just get off all by myself this time. We can try again later! Maybe after I’ve molted? Or a villain shaves them off,” he added under his breath. “That might happen first.”

Steve stepped closer, carefully navigating the feathers bouncing along the carpet, and clamped his hands down on Tony’s hips so he couldn’t skitter away like a frightened animal. He felt Tony reflexively try to jerk out of his grip and sighed, pulling him as close as he could without bunching his feathers uncomfortably. “Tony, you’re doing that thing where you make decisions for both of us again.”

Tony stilled, head dipping forward as if he was still too embarrassed to make eye contact with him. “…I just. Everyone says peacocks are too much. I don’t want to be too much for you. I know when they say ‘too much,’ they’re just trying to be nice and not say I’m annoying out loud.”

“Everyone else sucks,” Steve answered flatly. “I don’t think you’re annoying, especially about something you can’t help. I like you just the way you are. And I’m just as good at rolling with sudden changes as you are. I’m the man with the plan, remember?”

Tony let out a reluctant huff, and Steve caught the corner of his mouth curling up before he turned his head again. “Oh yeah? What’s your plan then, Captain America?”

Steve took a moment to consider what to say, lifting a hand to carefully trail his fingers over where Tony’s coverts met skin. He watched the feathers begin to lift reflexively with the stimulation and tipped his head, considering. He ran his fingers over the skin again, and Tony’s back spasmed beneath them, feathers shifting further up. “Are your feathers heavy?” he asked after a moment.

“Um.” Tony turned his head to squint at him. “They’re a few pounds altogether, I guess. Ten at the most. It doesn’t hurt? If that’s what you’re worried about? I have excellent core strength.”

“I know,” Steve answered, momentarily distracted as he remembered the way he’d ridden the mechanical bull he’d built for a party so Jan could show off a new western-themed line she’d designed. He blinked the memory away quickly, though, focusing back on the present with a reluctant huff. He shifted his hand around to the side and carefully scooped up a handful of feathers. Just like Tony had said, it wasn’t heavy at all, just a little unwieldy because they were so long. “What about this?”

Tony blinked, confused. “Sure feels like you’re holding ‘em? Steve. I’m not made of glass.”

“I’m just getting the full scope of everything,” Steve answered, hefting the feathers in his hand thoughtfully. If he used both hands, he could hold up most of Tony’s train. He only needed to make a little gap between the halves. “Can you put your hands on the bed and kind of lean forward?”

“Assume the position? Sure,” Tony answered, and luckily there was genuine humor in his voice now. Steve found he liked that a lot better than the fake cheer, even if it did make him wonder just how oblivious Tony was.

Tony obediently leaned forward, pressing his hands to the mattress. Steve only had to grip and push his hips a little to get him into the position he wanted, and Tony accommodated easily, shifting his feet until Steve stopped him exactly where he wanted him. Once he was satisfied, Steve grasped Tony’s coverts in both hands, carefully splitting them in half so he could press between them and drop to his knees between Tony’s feet. He took a moment to get himself settled, then carefully let go of Tony’s feathers.

They fanned over him as if he belonged there, curving under their own length over his body. He could feel the soft, floaty barbs tickling the back of his neck and arms. He took a moment to quickly unbutton his shirt and shrug it off, shivering as the feathers tickled over the newly exposed skin. He could feel the weight of the shafts against him, but they weren’t very heavy at all, more like a steady presence. He took a moment to steady himself, because it was possible Tony wouldn’t like this at all.

Then he reached up, curling his hands around the front of Tony’s thighs to hold him steady, and leaned in to nip Tony’s right cheek.

“Oh!” Tony yelped in surprise, and Steve was glad he’d grabbed him, because he jumped as if he’d been electrocuted. He twisted around to look at him, but Steve was covered by his fan.

Steve took advantage of being hidden to lean in and give his ass another sharp bite, but he retreated quickly when Tony made a soft, high-pitched noise. “Is this okay?”

Tony’s breath was already coming a little harder, he realized with a start, coverts twitching along his back as his muscles spasmed. “You really are the man with a plan,” he wheezed, dropping forward onto his elbows. “No one’s ever thought of that before.”

It propped his ass up even nicer. Steve lifted a hand to admire the curve, following it with his fingers before he gave it a short swat, and the flesh jiggled under the slap. “Let’s just say I was incredibly motivated,” he teased, then reached up, carefully spreading Tony’s cheeks so he could see his hole. “I’m gonna eat you out until you beg me to stop, just so you know.”

“Huh?!” Tony yelped, but that was all he managed before a wounded noise escaped his throat as his body jerked, feathers dancing over Steve’s back as he shoved his face into his ass.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest!

NSFW Wednesday 19 Trope: Good Cop/Bad Cop Kink: Leather/Lingerie

You can read this on ao3 (here). I love how Tony's like "I could be a mob boss. But actually I don't want to. Anyway." Look out for under the cut!

Also this was the picture I was using for the lingerie: https://www.johnniescloset.com/products/candyman-99743-lace-bodysuit-black?_pos=7&_fid=b248b6dec&_ss=c

--

Steve leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankle. “I think you’re trying to get out of trouble.”

Tony batted his eyes at him, long lashes fanning across his cheeks the way he knew Steve liked. “If I was just trying to get out of trouble, I’d have showed up naked.”

Bucky tightened his grip on the back of Tony’s neck, and he tipped his head back, teeth digging into his bottom lip to try and bite back a mewl. “Maybe you should have,” he groused, giving Tony a little shake. “What was so important that you had to enter AIM territory?”

Tony slanted him a sharp look, lips jutting out into a pout that bordered on a sneer. “That’s where I used to live, asshole. I still have friends in that area. Just because I threw my lot in with you doesn’t mean I just dropped them.”

“Brat,” Bucky huffed back, but his lips were curving into a smirk. “Could have just said.”

Steve remembered, abruptly, that the original Van Dyne boutique was in AIM’s territory. She’d also happily told them that if Tony ever allowed himself to be dressed by another designer, she’d burn both Brooklyn and Manhattan to the ground in her rage. Tony had compromised by only going quarterly instead of weekly. He let his eyes drag down Tony’s body, slow and considering, because he knew Tony hated being made to wait. He wasn’t wearing anything he hadn’t been that morning—well-worn jeans that fit like a glove, an AC/DC t-shirt, and tennis shoes. Nothing special. He was honestly surprised Janet had let him leave like that.

He gave Tony another slow up-and-down, just to make him grind his teeth, then raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest. “Something you want to share with us, sweetheart?”

“Not if you’re going to be ungrateful,” Tony scoffed.

Bucky slid his grip up Tony’s neck and into his hair, gripping tight enough that Tony couldn’t quite swallow back a whimper. He used the grip to tip Tony’s head, pressing his lips to Tony’s ear. “Stevie’s just being nice. You don’t have a choice. The question is, are you gonna strip, or do I need to tear these clothes off?”

Tony scowled, squirming as much as he could. “I like this shirt.”

“So take it off,” Steve offered. He couldn’t help a smirk of his own as he watched Tony seethe. He’d clearly had plans, and they were ruining them. They’d make it up to him, though. Tony had been complaining about wanting to redecorate. When Tony made no move toward the hem of his shirt or the button on his jeans, he sighed, loud and theatrical as he sat up straight in his seat again. “You know I hate it when you make me a bad guy.”

Tony managed to glare at him. “Liar.”

Steve kept his gaze for a few seconds, then shrugged, pulling a knife from the sheath on his thigh. “You can believe what you want.” He turned his gaze on Bucky, watching his lips spread into a mean grin, and tossed the knife to him.

Bucky caught it easily, and Tony barely had enough time to get out a plaintive whine before Bucky grabbed his shirt in one hand to pull it taut. The blade of the knife sliced through it easily, and Tony began to jerk forward, but then Bucky pressed the flat of his knife to his throat. “Show Stevie your pretty shirt.”

Tony somehow managed to sniff in disgust, even with his shirt torn open and a knife to his throat. “It’s not a shirt. Neither of you deserve this,” he added snidely. Still, he grasped the cut edges of his shirt and spread it so that Steve could get an eyeful.

It was lacy, Steve recognized immediately, eyes locking on the roses composing the deep V-neck of the black lingerie. Sheer, he realized a moment later. He could see Tony’s olive skin, the peek of a nipple at the edge of a petal. The fabric, such as it was, continued down Tony’s body until it disappeared under his jeans, though Steve could see the edges of leaves and petals peeking up over his belt. There was more to see, hidden from their eyes by denim.

“If you cut my jeans after I finally got them worn in all the right places,” Tony hissed when he noticed where Steve’s gaze had landed. He let the threat hang there, not giving them the satisfaction of something specific to rally against.

It was possible that the threat included tattling to Janet, so Steve pretended the thought had never crossed his mind. Instead, he stepped around the desk so he could stop in front of Tony, hooking a finger into his belt and tugging gently. “If you aren’t nice to us, I’ll let Bucky strop you with this.”

“I am being incredibly nice right now by not just leaving,” Tony retorted, with the confidence of a man who didn’t have a knife to his throat, pinned between two larger bodies.

It was frustrating, sometimes, that Tony refused to be scared of him. Or, not just refused—he simply wasn’t scared by much, and that included them. It was kind of nice, too, though. It wouldn’t have felt right, trying to bully Tony and knowing it would work. Part of the fun was that it didn’t.

Steve huffed in amusement as he finally reached for the buckle of Tony’s belt, flicking it open with expert fingers. “Okay,” he agreed, smiling reluctantly. “You’re being very nice.”

“If you rip anything lacy, I will be very angry, and you will be paying for three new replacements,” Tony added as Steve carefully unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Then he yelped as the knife was whipped away from his neck, and Bucky’s hands hooked in the hem of his jeans to drag them down as he dropped to his knees behind him. “Oh!”

Steve stepped closer, angling his thigh between both of Tony’s when he saw his groin covered with black fabric, nothing visible, as if that was the only place modesty counted. He reached up to slip the shirt from his arms, fighting the urge to rip the rest off for fear of doing just what Tony had warned him not to—ripping the lace at his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck, Stevie,” Bucky groaned, voice heavy with lust. “It’s an open back. It’s got laces.”

“Nice,” Steve began.

Then Tony let out a cry of pain, hips jerking forward just like Steve had known they would once Bucky’s knees hit the floor behind him, because he could never resist putting his teeth marks on Tony’s ass. Tony whined as he ground his groin into Steve’s thigh. “Ow,” he tried plaintively, but Bucky just let out a smug sound, so he tipped his head back to give Steve liquid eyes, bottom lip trembling. “It hurts, Steve.”

“Good,” Steve answered, because he believed Tony’s brattiness should have a limit.

Tony scowled, but the anger was short-lived, mouth dropping open to moan lewdly as Steve’s hands landed on the small of his back to hold him up against his thigh while Bucky reached up to begin untying the laces to get some give at the bottom of his lingerie to pull it to the side for access to his hole.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! NSFW Tuesday 18 Trope: Forbidden Love Kink: Face-Sitting Dialogue: “Did I say you could stop?”

You can read this on ao3 (here). "Forbidden love" yeah up until Tony finally takes decisive action against the king lmao. Look out for under the cut!

--

“Please,” Tony sobbed, body shaking. His bound hands shook as he curled them into fists, leaning forward to try and use them to leverage himself up, as if his thighs weren’t belted down into his accommodating position. “I can’t, I can’t—I’ll die like this!”

Bucky had only licked him through a second orgasm, so he knew that wasn’t true. He hadn’t even gotten his dick wet yet. He turned his head, giving Tony’s left cheek a warning nip, just to hear him grunt in complaint before he stuffed his tongue back into Tony’s quivering hole.

It wasn’t like Bucky had much choice but to keep going, anyway. Even if he wanted to, his ‘handlers’ were in the other room, certain that he was ‘torturing’ information out of the noble they’d captured. They didn’t know that snatching Tony off the streets after he had meetings with the king was the only time he could be with him. The crown and its guard knew that the Rebellion wanted Tony Stark on their side, and they could only keep him neutral by holding his ward hostage. On top of that, only a precious few higher-ups in the Rebellion knew that Tony was a double agent who dropped hints to them, as Tony whispered them into his ear right before he finally passed out. Them being seen together as anything but enemies would be dangerous to both sides.

Until the king was deposed, the only way he could have Tony was by having him visibly kidnapped, locked in a room with him, and then leaving his bruised body to be found by a good samaritan who would take care of him—and knowing that he would be turned into the king and questioned about what he’d told under torture. He tried not to think about how Tony looked more haunted after being questioned by the king than he ever did being thrown into the mud by Bucky’s compatriots.

“Please, soldier,” Tony rasped, managing to get the leather around his thighs to creak slightly away from the wooden seat he was pinned to, a quarter of an inch at most. It was enough that Bucky paused to let him rest, though, watching his thighs shake with the effort, sweat dripping down his trembling back. “Please, stop, I can’t, I won’t,” he added belatedly, as if remembering he should at least pretend he wasn’t going to tell Bucky everything he wanted to know.

Bucky sucked in a breath, licking his lips. Tony wasn’t fucked out enough for him to call him all the mean names his teammates expected, would balk and give him wide, wet eyes when they could finally share their gazes. “Did I say you could stop?” he asked instead, voice more guttural than he wanted, but he figured it was muffled enough that no one would notice the cloying desire in it.

Tony let out a sob, thighs reluctantly falling limp, and settled back onto Bucky’s mouth. “I don’t know anything,” he moaned, then let out a little hiccup as Bucky gave his ass a chiding slap. “I don’t.”

He did, but it was better that people thought he was being kept willfully ignorant now. No one had to know he had his ear to the ground under the guise that he suspected the king wasn’t keeping his ward safe. There was one thing he was certain of in this cold war: If the king hurt Tony’s ward, all bets were off, and Tony would slaughter everyone in the castle himself. The king and Tony were balancing on a knife’s edge, waiting for the other to slip, and Bucky sincerely hoped the Rebellion made its move before Tony’s fear turned to rage.

“Soldier, stop,” Tony wailed, even as his hips began hitching forward as much as they could, and Bucky reached up to grab his thighs over the belts, holding him immobile so Tony could only scream and cry as Bucky continued to eat him out.

He was close. Bucky could tell from the pitch his wails had taken, the way his thighs were beginning to shake from being overworked. He turned his head a little, sinking his teeth in where he’d given Tony a warning nip just a moment ago. Tony screamed again, his entire body clenching up, and Bucky dug his teeth in harder, even gave a little shake of his head, like the rebel dog he’d been accused of being the last time he’d been arrested. He doubted the king would demand a physical examination after bringing Tony in, but if he did, everyone would know that Tony belonged to him.

“Stop,” Tony begged faintly, then fell limp with another sob, body twitching with aftershocks. “Stop, stop, I can’t, I can’t I can’t I can’t—”

Bucky tore himself away with a wet inhale, forcing himself to duck out from Tony’s seat so he could sit up. His back was sore. A stone floor was no place to lie, even if there was an apparatus holding the weight of the person sitting on his face. He allowed a moment to take stock of himself, but nothing hurt in a way that he needed to see to it immediately, so he turned and started unbuckling Tony’s thighs so he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable, all spread open and wet.

“No,” Tony moaned, still shaking. “Now you’re going to put your dick in me, and I’ll die.”

“Tony, shh,” Bucky hissed, even though he had to try awfully hard not to laugh. He carefully pulled Tony into his lap so he could press delicate kisses to his tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips. “They’ll hear you.”

“Stop! Soldier!” Tony wailed, pushing at his shoulders with his bound hands.  “You’re gonna kill me!”

Bucky grabbed his chin in a stronger grip than he would have liked, twisting his face so he could cover Tony’s mouth with his own. Tony kept trying to wail and complain, tremors vibrating through him, but finally, he quieted down to whimpers and mewls, too weak to fight again.

“I won’t put my dick in you this time,” Bucky murmured against his lips, and Tony let out another sob, apologetic and relieved all at once. Bucky hushed him. It had been a longer separation than usual, so he should have known how overwhelmed Tony would be sitting on his face, especially because Tony usually didn’t need any convincing to use him as a seat. He pressed another kiss to Tony’s swollen lips. “Next time, though, I’m gonna leave you dripping from both ends.”

Tony shuddered in his lap at the thought, breath hitching in his chest in a way that was both nervous and excited. “Buck—”

Bucky kissed him again before he could finish, swallowing whatever Tony was going to say before anyone could realize that Tony knew him by name. Part of the reason he was the one who ‘tortured’ the information out of Tony every time was because people didn’t know who he was. If people even suspected who he was, he got reassigned. He didn’t want Tony to actually be hurt beyond the few bruises he’d been forced to give him before he’d gotten Tony tied up and bound properly. The next guy might not be quite so nice.

“He’s sending for aid in quelling the rebellion,” Tony whispered when Bucky finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

Bucky adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, carefully pulling Tony to lie on his chest, propping his head up on his shoulder. Tony tipped his head accommodatingly, lips brushing against Bucky’s ear every third word. He kept his voice low to keep from being heard through the door as he spilled everything he knew about the king’s contacts, who he meant to get help from, and how dangerous they would be to the rebels. Bucky nodded along, but mostly he basked in being able to just hold him in his arms, believing that with the information Tony provided him, someday he’d get to hold him all the time.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! (NSFW) Monday 17 Trope: Amnesia Kink: Mission Sex Dialogue: "Why don't you go put on something pretty for me?"

You can read this on ao3 (here). Look out for under the cut!

--

Steve checked the alert on his watch. This is a mission, it reminded him. He blinked once, hard, then lifted his head back to the room he’d been escorted to by a face he didn’t remember. It looked like… it looked like he was sitting at the bar of the Stork Club. But Tony had regretfully explained that it had closed in the sixties. There had been copycats that Tony had offered to take him to, but never completely faithful to the original that he would have remembered, so he’d declined. Was this… a dream?

This is a mission, his watch reminded him again.

Steve took a sip of his drink. Gin. Orange juice. Lime and bitters. The Stork Club’s signature. Tony had made it for the team once, when he’d gotten to talking to Thor about historical brewing, and then Prohibition had been brought up, and bootlegging, and… the Stork Club, and the bartender’s fame for coming up with the mixed drinks, and… Why was he here? He glanced down at the bar, eyes catching on sharp pleats in his pants. His… dress pants. He was wearing his dress uniform, the old pink and green one from the forties. He was wearing his dress uniform (he didn’t own this one anymore) in a night club (that had closed decades before he’d been found in the ocean) drinking gin (he preferred beer) and obviously waiting for someone (…Peggy?). This… it had to be a dream. This place didn’t exist anymore. He didn’t exist like this anymore.

This is a mission, his watch told him stubbornly, but as he stared at its digital face, it warped before his eyes into his pop’s old watch that he’d inherited. The one he’d lost to the ocean.

“Hey, handsome,” a familiar voice purred, and Steve turned, surprised.

A man had sidled up beside him, a sly smile on his lips as he looked Steve up and down through his long eyelashes. He had his folded arms on the bar, leaning his weight on them so he could cock his hips at an angle that brought attention to his trim waist. His suit looked expensive, the dark fabric bringing out the tan of his skin. As Steve watched, the man reached out, taking the glass from his lax fingers and lifting it to his own mouth. ‘Rude,’ he thought, at the same time his heart flipped fondly in his chest. The man had put his lips right where Steve had just sipped, looking up at him with a coy quirk of his lips before he tipped his head back to drain the rest of the glass.

‘Illegal,’ his brain offered. This was the Stork Club. It had closed before Tony was even born. Homosexuality wasn’t legalized until the eighties. They were going to get kicked out of the bar. Maybe taken to jail. ‘Hot,’ his brain offered before the wariness could settle in, watching as the man licked his lips and set the glass back down. He… shouldn’t be here. Something was going on. This was a mission.

“Can I buy you another drink, Captain?” the man purred, turning his body to face him, leaning his elbow on the bar. He pulled the twist of orange rind from the glass and placed one end between his lips, suckling the remaining liquor from it idly.

Steve reached out to grab his tie and pull, and a thrill went through him as the man gamely leaned into his space, smile still impish and playful. “No thanks, doll,” Steve said, watching the man blink in surprise, then pull the orange peel from his lips, pupils dilating as he looked up at him. Steve wrapped the man’s tie around his fingers, pulling tighter, and the man whimpered. “Why don’t you go put on something pretty for me, sweetheart?” he asked instead.

The tie disappeared from his hand, and as he watched, the man’s sharp suit changed, high end wool fabric twisting and warping until it settled into a dark red dress that stopped just below the knee, with an open neckline and wispy sleeves that were more for decoration than utility. The tie pin he’d been wearing twisted itself into gold chains that wrapped around his throat at different lengths, the cufflinks into gold bangles over pale gold gloves that went up to his elbow. The sharp loafers on his feet rippled into gold pumps that matched his jewelry, and as the man leaned his elbow back on the bar, a gold clutch with red stitching formed in his hand.

The man smiled, raising an eyebrow at him in amusement. “You have any other kinks you want to tell me about, Captain?”

Steve tipped his head, the hand that had been holding his tie reaching out to trace the square neckline of the dress. “This cut would have been obscene.”

“It’s not the forties,” the man replied, then frowned, brows furrowing together as he glanced around the club. “…Is it?”

This is a mission, Steve remembered faintly, before his hand lifted to the man’s cheek, thumb stroking over his cheekbone gently. “It’s whatever we want it to be,” he offered.

The man leaned his cheek into his hand with a soft sigh, lashes thick and dark as his eyes fell closed. Then he peeled them open again, lips twisting into another coy smile. “Could I convince you to bend me over in the women’s restroom?”

“No,” Steve answered immediately. “Quickie in the bathroom seems a waste when you’re dressed to be savored.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to the man’s ear. “But Billingsley’s promised I can keep a low profile here. Could get us a corner table. Out of the limelight.”

“You don’t want to show me off?” the man simpered, reaching out to hook his free hand in Steve’s collar and pull him closer, so they were pressed together at the shoulders and chest.

“No,” Steve said again, leaning back to meet his eyes. “I’m greedy. It’s bad enough everyone can see you now. I don’t want them to see what you look like when I’m petting you under the table.”

“…Hmm,” the man hummed, tipping his head and batting his eyes at him. “Turns out I like that.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, and he barely had time to lift a hand to call a waiter before one was there, and he curled his hand over the man’s hip as they were led through the smokey room toward a table in a dim corner, protected from prying eyes by a pony wall on one side and a potted plant on the other. He tipped his head down, murmuring, “I didn’t catch your name, sweetheart.”

The jerked in his hold slightly, mouth dropping open. He looked surprised for a moment, maybe even confused. Then his face smoothed out, smile back in place, and he answered, “Tony.” His smile turned impish. “Do you want me to keep calling you ‘captain,’ Captain?”

“Be easier for you to pant ‘Steve’ in my ear than ‘captain,’” Steve offered quietly, and Tony threw his head back to laugh, belatedly covering his mouth with his clutch when a nearby table shot them a glare. Steve shot a glare back at them, and they quickly turned their gazes away. Then he turned back to Tony, offering his hand to help him into the booth.

“Anything I can get for you, Captain?” the waiter asked, and Tony sat up straighter and happily ordered a Manhattan before Steve could say no.

“I could take a French Seventy-Five,” Steve sighed, and the waiter nodded and turned to go fetch them. He slid an arm around Tony’s waist, tipping his head to mutter into his ear, “Sweetheart, that means he’s coming back.” Despite that fact, he reached down, plucking at the fabric bunching around Tony’s thighs. His fingers caught on a garter through the skirt, and he pulled on it and let it snap back into place. “Wanted you all to myself.”

Tony jumped, mouth dropping into a shocked ‘o,’ but then he laughed again, reaching down to clamp his hands over Steve’s wandering one as he tipped his head back to slant him a hungry grin. “He won’t be able to see through the table.”

“Tease,” Steve huffed, unable to help a smirk of his own as his other hand reached over, grabbing the skirt to pull up over his knees. “Billingsley’s gonna ban us.”

“Then you can fuck me in my suite at the Marriott,” Tony scoffed, then bit his bottom lip to swallow back a whimper as Steve’s hand began working his silk slip up. “You’re not even going to let me enjoy my drink?”

“You can enjoy it all you want,” Steve replied, fingers sliding under the slip so he could grab the inside of his thigh and squeeze. “These stockings made of silk, too?”

Tony’s expression briefly shifted to contempt. “Do I look like the sort of person who can’t afford it?”

“I’m not gonna rip ‘em if they’re silk,” Steve answered, finding his garter to snap again chidingly. “If they’re nylon, I’m gonna tear ‘em off so I can get to your bare skin.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open, and it looked like it physically pained him to admit, “They’re silk.”

Steve snapped his garter again, just to hear the little grunt of complaint Tony made, then sat up straight as another waiter made his way over with their drinks. He kept his hand still, even though it was a strain—he hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t want to share, and Tony’s giggles and gasps were sweet enough that he decided he didn’t want to share those either, if he didn’t have to. He waited for the waiter to move on to the next table before he turned his attention back to Tony, watching as he jumped in surprise and spilled his drink from his lips when he slid his hand up further, cupping him through his panties.

“You jerk,” Tony gasped, glaring at him, as his cheeks flushed pink. He reached for a napkin, but Steve grabbed it first, dabbing at his collarbones and working his way up. “If you wanted to see me wet, we could have gone to the bathroom,” he added, voice lilting into that hungry purr again, tipping his head so Steve could dab the whiskey from under his jaw. “At least the sink wouldn’t have stained my dress.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Steve replied, even though part of him winced inside at the idea of replacing something obviously expensive. He slid his hand up further, rubbing his palm over the head of Tony’s hardening cock.

Tony smiled as he snatched the napkin from his hand, leaning his arm on the table. “You can’t afford it,” he promised, instead of being nice and letting Steve believe he could. His eyes went dark, though, and he continued, “So you better make ruining this one worthwhile.” He moved his elbow in a way that could never be called accidental, and his clutch dropped onto the bench and bounced onto the floor beneath the table. “Oops. I should grab that.”

“Don’t bother,” Steve answered, and Tony only had a moment to look surprised and disappointed before he continued, “I’ll grab that for you, doll.”

“What a gentleman!” Tony began, genuinely impressed, but Steve felt his cock twitch against his palm, too, so he clearly liked it more than his teasing tone implied.

It was difficult to crawl under the table in such a small space, but Steve managed. He was on a mission. He snatched the clutch from the edge of the tablecloth, just in case a waiter spotted it and decided they’d be helpful and grab it. He was not getting banned from the Stork Club before he could get his mouth on Tony. He tossed it up onto the seat behind him, then carefully wrapped his hands under Tony’s knees and jerked them up and apart. He heard Tony muffle a slightly nervous giggle above him and couldn’t help a chuckle of his own. It was too bad it was so dark under the tablecloth. He wished he could see the silk and satins covering him.

He leaned in, lips finding the garter on the back of his thigh and following it up toward the belt. Tony made a soft sound of interest, and Steve was sure the only reason he heard it was because of his super hearing. Tony thought he had the upper hand, he realized, just because he’d decided to go under the table instead. That wouldn’t do, he decided, tipping his head to catch a satin-covered cheek between his teeth and bite down in warning.

“Ow!” Tony gasped, body jerking, and Steve felt his heels jab into his back. “Steve!”

Steve bit down harder, and Tony’s thighs clamped around his head, shaking. He wondered how long he could be under the table before people started asking questions.

Then he heard Tony mutter a plaintive, “Aw, already?” and his vision began to warp. Tony disappeared from under his mouth, out of his hands, and he felt disoriented, grasping after him and finding nothing.

This is a mission, he remembered suddenly, eyes flying open to stare at a white ceiling.

Right. SHIELD had heard rumors of an alien brothel that humans entered and then left with no memory of their time inside. Tony had volunteered to do reconnaissance, and Steve had jealously jumped in to volunteer as well so he wouldn’t be alone. But… why did he remember that? The people who had been interviewed could barely remember they’d had sex. He had barely remembered there was a mission during his dream, but now he could remember all of it, down to how Tony’s silk skirt had felt in his hands.

“Sir,” someone said, and he tipped his head, feeling like his brain was disconnected from his body.

The alien he saw was… beautiful, he figured. Too beautiful, in a way humans couldn’t be, which made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Apparently, they came and went from Earth as they pleased, and they were probably the reason for some of the stories of succubae and incubi. They’d learned to distill the sexual energy they needed from humans through their fantasy simulators, they’d explained as he and Tony had been led through the halls of the brothel. ‘You could have just asked instead of trying to infiltrate,’ one of them had said, and Tony had laughed about how it was foolish to try and sneak anything past a species who had the ability to sense emotions.

He and Tony had both agreed to try the process out, just to make sure everything was above board. Steve couldn’t say he enjoyed feeling like a stranger in his own body as he woke up, even as he quickly reoriented himself.

“Your half hour is up,” the alien continued once she was sure she had his full attention. “Would you like to remember your experience?”

“…Huh?” Steve asked, blinking at her.

The alien smiled kindly. “Forgetting your experience is a very popular service, sir! That way you can experience it for the first time again and again!”

Steve blinked again, hard. That explained why the people they interviewed looked genuinely confused as they tried to remember their time there. “How will I remember I consented to that?” he asked suspiciously, because the alien at the front desk had made sure to have them sign paperwork that they understood what they were doing, but forgetting it seemed counterintuitive, especially if he would be forgetting the entire experience.

“Excellent question, sir,” the alien replied with a serious nod. “If you decide you’d like to forget the experience, we have you recite your consent to forget on camera and keep it saved for the entirety of your account through SuccInc Ltd. Please don’t touch the nodes,” she added when he reached up to rub his head. “Otherwise the service cannot be erased.”

“Oh,” Steve said, suddenly remembering the pads that had been attached to his head. He’d opted for that over the immersion tank when they’d informed him it could get cold. The last thing he wanted was to remember the ice. He dropped his hand to the table. “Uh, do you—do you know if—”

“Your partner has opted to forget,” the alien offered.

Steve felt disappointment sink in his stomach. Tony hadn’t wanted to remember it? Because he didn’t want to remember almost having sex with him? Or to forget the experience in its entirety?

“He requested that you choose to remember so that you could compare notes about the experience, but ultimately the option is up to you, sir,” the alien continued blithely. “We do not follow others’ orders for their partners here. If you’d like to forget, we can do that. I just wanted to make sure you could make an informed decision.” She paused, then added, “He seemed really excited either way. Said something about puke?”

Steve stared at her, uncomprehending. Why would Tony talk about— “Oh,” he said, and then couldn’t help a slightly hysterical laugh. His retro-framing thing. B.A.R.F. The disappointment he felt immediately evaporated. Tony wanted to do science, and it would be more helpful for one of them to forget and one of them to remember. It had nothing to do with the experience. “Then I guess I’ll remember.”

“You sure?” the alien asked skeptically.

“I’m pretty gone on him,” Steve admitted, shrugging. “If he wanted me to go into the immersion tank, I would have.”

“…Hmm,” the alien answered, but she obediently reached out to begin picking the nodes off of his head. “If he wanted to know the science of it, he could have just asked.”

“He’s more of a hands-on kinda fella,” Steve offered, and decided not to be embarrassed by how fond he sounded. Tony hadn’t noticed his big dumb crush on him yet even though everyone else knew about it. He figured the aliens would find out eventually if they hung around Earth for any longer.

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest! (NSFW) Sunday 16 Kink: Naked Under Apron Dialogue: "Shut up and take your pants off."

You can read this on ao3 (here). Look out for under the cut!

--

Tony was working in the forge again. Steve very casually made his way to the coffee cart as soon as the news reached him, even though Sam and Bucky elbowed each other and ribbed about how he wasn’t subtle at all. He ordered a very large cup of coffee, then ambled over to one of the quad’s benches that had a wonderful view of Tony’s forge. He took time making himself comfortable, setting his shield aside, pulling his sketchbook out of his satchel, setting his coffee beside him on the bench.

Then he sat back, allowing himself the time to enjoy the show as Tony lifted his hammer and brought it back down on his armor, muscles flexing in his arms and back. His hips swayed as he stepped on the bellows he’d fashioned, the hair at the back of his neck curling with sweat. As Steve watched, a bead of sweat dropped from his nape and rolled down his flexing back. It really was a shame that working a forge was such a hot endeavor, Steve mused, licking his lips, before he reluctantly turned his attention to his sketchbook.

“You know…” Natasha said, perching on the bench beside him.

Steve closed his eyes and sighed, tipping his head back. He was certain she was going to get be very pushy about him revealing his feelings, but maybe she wouldn’t threaten him this time. Natasha seemed to believe that they didn’t need her intervention yet. Whatever that meant. “What?” he asked, looking back down at her. He saw her cardboard box over by the bush nearest the bench, and he wanted to tell her that that wasn’t very stealthy, except she’d appeared by his side as if she’d always been there, so he figured she probably wouldn’t care.

Natasha slanted him a knowing smirk. “It’s a shame his pants are so heavy. They do nothing for that ass at all.”

Steve wondered what reaction would please her least. “The leather protects him from burns,” he finally pointed out, deciding to just play her game. It would be faster than trying and failing to outwit her.

Natasha looked at him a little longer, then let out a frustrated huff, rolling her eyes. “Well, I have to say something.” She turned to face him, expression solemn. “I heard Crimson Dynamo telling Black Cat that she was running out of patience with Tony dodging her demands of marriage. So you’re going to have to get him to believe you like him soon, or you’re gonna have to fight her for him.”

“God,” Steve moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to fight Crimson Dynamo.”

“Then do something about it,” Natasha told him flatly. “She’s been talking about him being her tiny, beautiful househusband since she saw him, and I think if Tony ever hears about it, he’ll relocate with no forwarding address.” She paused, then shrugged. “Not that I think that would stop her, but he’s slippery, so.”

Steve glanced back at Tony, already considering ways to make him see he was earnest about his feelings instead of trying to be his friend. His skin was beginning to take on a pretty golden glow the longer he worked, sweat gleaming from the heat of the coals. “Yeah, he must be pretty slippery by now.”

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” Natasha snapped, and Steve averted his gaze from Tony until she’d slipped back into her box and was well and truly on her way to… wherever else she’d be using her spy gear.

Then he sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face. If Crimson Dynamo really was getting impatient, he didn’t have much more time to figure out how to get Tony to see him as a possible beau. She wasn’t really known for her patience anyway, and she was so blunt that Tony didn’t have a choice but to understand her intentions. Now Steve just needed to figure out how get Tony to understand his.

.-.

Steve was still undecided about what to do when he followed Tony into his tower. He could admit part of it was that he was just sort of following him like a moth followed light. Patches of the leather he was wearing were dark with sweat, and Steve focused on how right Natasha was about the leather pants doing nothing for his ass to keep from panting after him like a dog.

“Oh, Steve,” Tony said when he realized he’d been followed inside, and Steve lamented that it took so long. He hadn’t realized his obliviousness stretched this far, although with the way some of the cameras blinked and whirred as the followed him, he hoped that JARVIS would have said something if Tony was in danger. Tony blinked at him with that doe-eyed expression that made Steve want to wrap him in a blanket burrito and keep him safe forever. “Did you need something?”

He wasn’t wearing a shirt under his apron. Steve had known that, logically, but seeing it up close was… doing something to him. His mouth had gone dry. He should say something. What should he say? “…Cuh,” he started, then ran a hand over his face. He needed to focus. “Natasha says Crimson Dynamo is getting really impatient about you accepting her marriage proposal.”

Tony blinked, seemingly unsurprised and unmoved. “Galina has always been a little pushy.”

“You call her Galina?” Steve asked, unable to help the smidgen of hurt that rolled through him. “You always call me ‘Cap’ at least. You never say my name.”

Tony tipped his head, brows furrowing together in confusion. “You’ve… never asked me to? Galina said I should use her name.” He paused, then petulantly added, “Although she said that was because I was gonna be her husband so. Maybe I shouldn’t do that anymore.” He turned his gaze back to Steve, eyes wide and guileless as he offered, “But I can call you Steve if you want. It might take me a few tries to get used to, but it’s an easy adaption. Right, Steve?”

Steve immediately had regrets. Hearing his name falling from Tony’s lips, seeing Tony’s earnestness, his hair still damp with sweat and no shirt on under his apron. He could still remember the way Tony’s muscles flexed in his arms and back as he swung his hammer, the way his body twisted expertly between fire-anvil-water. Galina hadn’t been there, but he knew if she had been, she would have demanded his hand in marriage again, how she’d let him continue ‘his fun little hobby’ between raising their children. Steve found he couldn’t really blame her.

Steve opened his mouth to thank him, to acknowledge that Tony was being accommodating, or something that was more than the guttural ‘shut up and take your pants off’ that it ended up being. His cheeks immediately flooded with heat, and he swallowed thickly, trying to wet his mouth enough to immediately apologize.

But Tony just gave him another confused blink before replying with a cheerful, if puzzled, “Okay!” Then he reached under his apron to unbuckle his belt.

Steve’s mouth stayed dropped open. It was that easy? He’d been pining after Tony so long, and all he’d had to do was tell him to take off his pants? He watched, astonished, as Tony shimmied his hips, the leather pants falling down around his ankles. He was still wearing the apron. It was a good look on him, Steve thought, swallowing again as Tony kicked out of his shoes and stepped out of the pile of leather. God. He had no visible tan lines at all. Sam had gossiped about Tony sunbathing naked on the roof, but Steve had tried to be gentlemanly about it by only thinking about it in the dead of night.

“…Well?” Tony asked after a moment. “Is it on me?”

“Huh?” Steve frowned, confused. “What are you…” he trailed off, then bit back a groan of frustration. Of course. Tony thought he’d told him to take his pants off because something was on them.

He allowed himself to think that if Crimson Dynamo made Tony realize she was serious, she sort of deserved to marry him. Then he brushed the thought away. She wasn’t going to marry him. Steve was.

“You’re good,” Steve managed when Tony began to look concerned. He couldn’t help his eyes darting down to Tony’s bare legs, only able to catch from his shins down beneath the apron. Still, it was almost unbearably intimate; unless he was on the beach, Tony tended to keep covered fully. “You look… good,” he added belatedly. It was the understatement of the year, but he’d missed his chance to tell him how alluring he was.

“Oh, great, because I was gonna—” Tony began, and Steve immediately clocked that he was going to brush him off and leave.

He reached out to grab the top of his apron and yanked him closer, before he could learn what Tony ‘was gonna.’ With his luck, Tony would swan out, mostly naked and somehow unaware that his beautiful body had Steve hard enough to pound nails, and then he’d get snatched up by Galina somehow. Crimson Dynamo might be lurking for just such an occasion, even. He couldn’t take that chance, especially with Natasha’s cryptic warning that he was running out of time. “Has anyone told you that you’re impossible?” he asked, scowling.

Tony blinked up at him, and it was aggravating how genuinely perplexed he looked. “I mean, sure, all the time. But usually I’m wearing more clothes. Well, except maybe Jan. She tells me that when I’m naked, too.” He put his hands on Steve’s shoulders to steady himself as he tried to ease out of his grip, as if loosening his fist was not Steve’s decision alone. When he didn’t budge, Tony raised his eyebrows at him impatiently. “I was gonna go wash up. Do you need a shower too? I can let you go ahead of me.”

Steve gaped at him, almost too stunned to speak. Finally, though, he managed to bark, “Huh?!”

Tony tried to surreptitiously nod down between them, but he wasn’t really sneaky about anything, and he especially wasn’t now with his waggling eyebrows and amused smirk. “It’s normal for this to happen sometimes, you know?”

It took him a moment, but finally, it struck Steve that Tony was aware of his erection and was trying to tease him about it. He sucked in a sharp breath and counted to ten, trying to breathe past the urge to shake him. Tony really would notice his hard dick and decide that it wasn’t because of him. “Tony,” he began carefully.

“Steve,” Tony replied, tilting his head. He wasn’t waggling his eyebrows at him anymore, but he still looked unsuitably smug for the situation.

Steve closed his eyes, regretting for a moment asking Tony to call him by his name. It was more intimate than ‘Cap,’ and it hit him right in the gut, toes curling in his shoes with how much he liked it. Then he opened his eyes again, dropping his hands from the apron to Tony’s biceps so that he could ease him back without letting him get away. “Tony,” he said again, trying to make sure every word was deliberate, so Tony couldn’t misconstrue it. “I want to have sex with you. This erection is because I think you’re sexy.” He paused for a moment, so that Tony could take in his words and hopefully give them the gravity he felt they warranted. Tony didn’t say anything, just blinked, so he clarified, “I mean, obviously I want to date. It’s not just sex. But I would also like it to be sex.”

At that, Tony’s confused blink turned to a stunned stare, eyes wide with surprise. Steve was grateful that Tony apparently had no idea how expressive his face was, because he watched his expression brighten with delight, and then just as quickly fall with dismay before he carefully schooled it into his plastic smile that he saved for press conferences. “Sure, Cap, real funny. I’m gonna go shower,” he finally said, and it hurt that he immediately reverted back to putting distance between them by not using his name, almost as much as it hurt that he thought Steve was capable of being so cruel. He stepped back, jerking his arms from Steve’s grip with a laugh that he reserved for bad jokes by reporters. “See you later.”

Steve sighed as Tony moved away from him, shoulders sagging. So being totally straightforward didn’t work either. He was at a loss for what to do. Maybe, if he went and told Natasha what had happened, she’d finally take pity on him and just tell him what he needed to do for Tony to realize he was serious. Clearly, he wasn’t going to make any headway doing it the way he knew how. He didn’t understand why Tony didn’t know how well-liked he was, to the point he wouldn’t accept someone’s earnest affection. He kind of didn’t want to know, either. He suddenly realized that Tony’s obliviousness to everyone else’s overtures was just as sad. He turned to leave. He needed to regroup. Maybe ask Jan or Rhodey who he needed to punch.

He caught Tony bending over out of the corner of his eye, though, and his body swiveled back toward him almost against his will, like he was the arrow on a compass and Tony was True North. He couldn’t help the whimper that crawled its way up his throat—Tony was bent over at the waist to pick his clothes up, back to him, and it gave Steve the perfect view of his ass. There were no tan lines from this angle, either, and with the backdrop of the leather apron, it looked almost pale. Each round cheek looked like the perfect handful, and Steve had to fight back against the urge to reach out and touch, mouth watering. It was okay to look, probably, he thought as he took a small step closer, and then another. Otherwise Tony wouldn’t sunbathe naked on the roof, knowing anyone could fly over and see him. Right? Right. Steve licked his lips.

“Ow!” Tony yelped, flailing backward instinctively.

His fist connected with Steve’s head, but Steve genuinely hadn’t had any idea he was so close, let alone had his hands on Tony’s hips, so he took a moment to dig his teeth in harder before he finally realized what he was doing. He tore his mouth away with a quiet gasp, staring at the impression of his teeth in the meat of Tony’s right cheek. When had he gotten close enough to touch? Why had his traitorous brain instead chosen to bite?! He swallowed, mortified, and pried his fingers off of Tony’s hips, where he’d apparently been holding him still so he could make his mark. “Tony. Oh my god.”

“Ow!” Tony cried again, this time seemingly more in complaint than pain. He looked wounded, eyes wide and liquid as he looked over his shoulder at him. “Jeez! Steve! If you wanted to bite me, you could have just—”

Steve shot to his feet, mortification quickly turning to offended rage. He towered over Tony as he tried to get hold of himself, carefully hissing, “If the next words out of your mouth are I ‘could’ve just told you,’ I am going to throw you off the roof of this tower.”

Tony at least had the wherewithal to realize he was in danger. He slowly reached back to put his hand over the bite mark, rubbing it to try and ease the pain. “…Mighty big words for a guy who just bit my ass with no warning,” he finally tried, the beginnings of a smug smirk on his lips, and then he shrieked when Steve lunged for him.

[bitetonysassfest]

I love the third panel the most somehow 😂 Cheeks! Teeth! Bite Tony's 🍑 Fest boiled down to a single picture!

Super excited to provide a silly little comic for @bitetonysassfest !! Here is some mildly NSFW Winteriron art :)))

Sunday (Feb 16)

Kink: Naked Under Apron

[bitetonysassfest]

Posting starts this coming Sunday the 16th, folks! See you then!

Bite Tony’s 🍑 Fest

Beloveds! We’re in for a second year of me hosting an event! Please, if you feel the desire, come join in!

This is a two week-long event during the end of February with the intention to let someone take a bite of Tony’s 🍑-shaped ass! Pairing does not matter, so long as teeth meet Tony’s perky butt! The dates are more of a guideline, more something to aim for, so if you don't get them finished by the date mentioned, that's fine! This year, whether the prompts are safe for work or not is entirely up to you. Sexy or humorous, the prompts are just a guide! All types of creations are accepted: fic, art, mood boards, etc. Just make sure Tony’s ass is bit somewhere in it! You can also, of course participate as much as you would like. If one day’s prompts call to you and the others don’t, just focus on what helps you have fun!

WHEN POSTING YOUR FAN WORK:

In your post of your work on Tumblr, please tag me with @bitetonysassfest so that I can see it and reblog it! Make sure you do this in the body of the post so that I can definitely see it. In addition, please make sure to label what day and post you are doing (e.g. “Monday: Trope” or “Thursday: Dialogue”). You can also label whether it is SFW or NSFW, but I’ll always just assume they’re NSFW. If you’re posting on AO3, I have a collection there that you can add it to (here).

PROMPT LIST/SCHEDULE:

Sunday (February 16) Trope: Friends to Lovers Kink: Naked Under Apron Dialogue: “Shut up and take your pants off.”

Monday (February 17) Trope: Amnesia Kink: Mission Sex Dialogue: “Why don’t you go put on something pretty for me?”

Tuesday (February 18) Trope: Forbidden Love Kink: Face-Sitting Dialogue: “Did I say you could stop?”

Wednesday (February 19) Trope: Good Cop/Bad Cop Kink: Leather/Lingerie Dialogue: “I don’t think I can make it any clearer what I want you to do to me.”

Thursday (February 20) Trope: Wing Fic Kink: Anonymous Sex Dialogue: “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”

Friday (February 21) Trope: Omegaverse Kink: Dirty Talk Dialogue: “Just pull the car over!”

Saturday (February 22) Trope: Fake Dating Kink: Pegging Dialogue: “I see the gift I got you fits well.”

Sunday (February 23) Trope: Werewolves Kink: Gun Play Dialogue: “Don’t you want to play with me?”

Monday (February 24) Trope: Only One Bed Kink: Hunter/Prey Dialogue: “Kitten, don’t make me tell you twice.”

Tuesday (February 25) Trope: Hurt/Comfort Kink: Phone Sex Dialogue: “Take it off. Slowly.”

Wednesday (February 26) Trope: Mutual Pining Kink: Heat/Rut Dialogue: “Are you wearing my shirt?”

Thursday (February 27) Trope: Sharing Body Heat Kink: Bruising/Bite Marks Dialogue: “You look good all soaking wet.”

Friday (February 28) Trope: Kissing in the Rain Kink: Kink Discovery Dialogue: “Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

Saturday (March 1) Trope: Mind Control/Brainwashing Kink: Monster Fucking Dialogue: “I think you forgot to lock the door. That means anyone would walk right in and see you like this.”

[bitetonysassfest]

Bite Tony’s 🍑 Fest

Beloveds! We’re in for a second year of me hosting an event! Please, if you feel the desire, come join in!

This is a two week-long event during the end of February with the intention to let someone take a bite of Tony’s 🍑-shaped ass! Pairing does not matter, so long as teeth meet Tony’s perky butt! The dates are more of a guideline, more something to aim for, so if you don't get them finished by the date mentioned, that's fine! This year, whether the prompts are safe for work or not is entirely up to you. Sexy or humorous, the prompts are just a guide! All types of creations are accepted: fic, art, mood boards, etc. Just make sure Tony’s ass is bit somewhere in it! You can also, of course participate as much as you would like. If one day’s prompts call to you and the others don’t, just focus on what helps you have fun!

WHEN POSTING YOUR FAN WORK:

In your post of your work on Tumblr, please tag me with @bitetonysassfest so that I can see it and reblog it! Make sure you do this in the body of the post so that I can definitely see it. In addition, please make sure to label what day and post you are doing (e.g. “Monday: Trope” or “Thursday: Dialogue”). You can also label whether it is SFW or NSFW, but I’ll always just assume they’re NSFW. If you’re posting on AO3, I have a collection there that you can add it to (here).

PROMPT LIST/SCHEDULE:

Sunday (February 16) Trope: Friends to Lovers Kink: Naked Under Apron Dialogue: “Shut up and take your pants off.”

Monday (February 17) Trope: Amnesia Kink: Mission Sex Dialogue: “Why don’t you go put on something pretty for me?”

Tuesday (February 18) Trope: Forbidden Love Kink: Face-Sitting Dialogue: “Did I say you could stop?”

Wednesday (February 19) Trope: Good Cop/Bad Cop Kink: Leather/Lingerie Dialogue: “I don’t think I can make it any clearer what I want you to do to me.”

Thursday (February 20) Trope: Wing Fic Kink: Anonymous Sex Dialogue: “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”

Friday (February 21) Trope: Omegaverse Kink: Dirty Talk Dialogue: “Just pull the car over!”

Saturday (February 22) Trope: Fake Dating Kink: Pegging Dialogue: “I see the gift I got you fits well.”

Sunday (February 23) Trope: Werewolves Kink: Gun Play Dialogue: “Don’t you want to play with me?”

Monday (February 24) Trope: Only One Bed Kink: Hunter/Prey Dialogue: “Kitten, don’t make me tell you twice.”

Tuesday (February 25) Trope: Hurt/Comfort Kink: Phone Sex Dialogue: “Take it off. Slowly.”

Wednesday (February 26) Trope: Mutual Pining Kink: Heat/Rut Dialogue: “Are you wearing my shirt?”

Thursday (February 27) Trope: Sharing Body Heat Kink: Bruising/Bite Marks Dialogue: “You look good all soaking wet.”

Friday (February 28) Trope: Kissing in the Rain Kink: Kink Discovery Dialogue: “Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

Saturday (March 1) Trope: Mind Control/Brainwashing Kink: Monster Fucking Dialogue: “I think you forgot to lock the door. That means anyone would walk right in and see you like this.”

[bitetonysassfest]

This is a fill for @bitetonysassfest​ NSFW Friday–Trope: Forbidden Love; Dialogue: “That’s open for discussion.” – Whomp whomp a whole week late but who is surprised. All my other fic were on time lol.

Forbidden love! Vampires, werewolves, and witches have natural distrust of each other. So obviously Steve, Bucky, and Tony ignore this so they can fuck. Tony has been using his magic to keep up with his secret boyfriends and they are delighted by the fact that he’s actually way more sensitive when he isn’t hiding behind his magic. Look out for under the cut! – It was a full moon—the worst type of night to be out unless one was a werewolf. Too bright for the sun-sensitive eyes of vampires, too dark for witches to use spells without being seen. A werewolf’s best night, golden eyes wide and watching, wet nose twitching, sensitive ears catching rabbit-fast pulses.

“You know, if you two weren’t such a pretty picture, I’d get irritated about you comin’ into my territory when I’m at my meanest,” Bucky drawled.

Steve hummed from where he was lying on a checkered blanket, pulling one hand from behind his head to reach down and slap Tony’s bare ass. “You sure it isn’t this keeping you from getting irritated?”

“Maybe,” Bucky allowed as Tony grunted in offense. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air. It smelled fruity. Strawberries, maybe? The scent was concentrated in both the picnic basket beside the blanket and between Tony’s legs. He licked his lips. Perhaps he could lick that flavored lube out of him.

They really were an unexpectedly pretty picture. Steve, all pale skin and red lips, carefully coiled power and a hint of sharp teeth when his lips curled up into a smirk. Tony, tan and compact, smelling of magic that could only at best be described as electric. Both of them lying out relaxed and satisfied in his territory, as if they knew they were safe there, despite Bucky having scared off or hunted down more dangerous foes.

“Is this for me?” Bucky finally asked, outright, because witches and vampires were known for being clever and turning things back on people, so all he had to his advantage was earnestness and the full moon. He reached out and squeezed Tony’s right cheek, just barely digging his claws in, just so they couldn’t tease him by pretending they didn’t know what he was talking about.

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