#steveandtony

[elwenyere]

Call My Bluff

(Stony ficlet inspired by the prompt from @wired-heartbeats​, “Why are we the only two people relatively good at strip poker here damn it guess I gotta lose on purpose to get this rollin huh”)

“All right, chumps,” Clint said, flicking cards expertly across the table from his perch on the kitchen counter, “the little blind is a sock, and the big blind is an item of outerwear of your choice.”

Of course, since Clint hadn’t suggested they play strip poker until the team had already made a substantial dent in Bruce’s latest batch of home-brew IPAs, some of them didn’t have many choices left at this point. Bruce had managed to hold onto both socks but was otherwise down to just his boxers, a white tee shirt, and a watch. Natasha had discarded a jacket, a headband, and a boot. And Thor and Clint were both surrounded by piles of clothing, though Tony suspected they were actually stripping at a faster rate than they were losing.

Steve, on the other hand, had yet to shed a single item.

It was infuriating, really, because Tony had spent all day reviewing the World’s Most Soul-Deadening Slide Presentations ahead of the Board meeting tomorrow – a meeting for which he’d also promised Pepper that he would stay sober – and so the very least he deserved for so much good behavior was for the supersolider with whom he’d been hopelessly infatuated for the last two years to show a little skin, for Christ’s sake. Instead, the only consolation available was that Tony was playing about as well as Steve, having sacrificed only his tie and a pair of cufflinks to win a button-down shirt from Bruce on the previous hand.

Tony folded early this time around, partially because Clint was squinting one eye in a way that meant he was going to bet big and partially because Tony wanted to watch Steve’s face as he checked the bet. Tony had learned more and more of Steve’s tells over the years: the furrow between his brows that meant he was worried, the crossed arms that meant he was remembering something he couldn’t talk about. The data set grew regularly these days, filling out with the little signs that let Tony predict how Steve was going to move and what he was going to need. But still, for the life of him, Tony could not read whatever it was that flashed across Steve’s face in moments like this one, when he glanced up at Tony as he thumbed the edge of his cards. The expression came and went, leaving a sensation like a hot coal in the center of Tony’s chest.

“It’s my deal,” Steve said finally, and Tony snapped out of his reverie in time to notice that Thor had won the last hand, and Clint was now heading to the pantry to grab potato chips wearing nothing but a pair of purple boxer-briefs.

Natasha, meanwhile, was taking much longer than seemed strictly necessary to relieve herself of a pullover sweater, and Tony suddenly froze in the act of picking up his cards: because how had Natasha given up a sweater? Tony had lost every bet he’d made with her since the days when Natalie Rushman was clearing his schedule for lunch at Carbone, and she had just abandoned her second-largest item of clothing to a pocket-nines bluff from Thor, God of Incurable Credulity? Not fucking likely.

Tony narrowed his eyes as he watched her twirl the discarded sweater in a few graceful circles with her wrist. Noticing his glare, she gave him the tiniest of smirks, her head inclining across the table. Tony followed its direction and saw that Bruce was staring openly, mouth hanging slightly ajar, cards lying untouched on the table.

Well that was an interesting development.

Tony felt a slow grin spreading across his face, and he looked instinctively back toward Steve to see if he had noticed Natasha’s adaptation to the game as well. But when he met Steve’s gaze, the grin stuck, only halfway formed. Because Steve was staring directly at him and wearing an expression that (as Tony had learned through painful experience) roughly translated to: “wearing a parachute would only slow me down.”

Steve dealt the river card without even glancing at it.

“I’d like to raise the bet,” he said. “Nothing shy of two yards of fabric.”

“A rousing challenge!” Thor yelled, slapping his cards down on the table. “I would hate to give way under any less brave an assault.”

“I’m out,” Natasha smiled. “I don’t think I have the kind of action this round calls for.”

Tony twirled his cards between his thumb and index finger, doing his best to pass off the sudden firing of his nerves as indecision over his hand. Steve had leaned back in his chair, but his eyes hadn’t left Tony’s, and whatever look Tony had caught a glimpse of earlier was fixed in place now, making Tony feel vaguely like the arc reactor was overheating.

“I’ll call,” Tony said, drumming his fingertips on the table. Steve finally broke eye contact to look down at the movement, and Tony watched in disbelief as his jaw somehow set even further: like concrete getting pressed into granite.

“I’m uhh – I’m out I think? Yeah, I’m going to fold,” Bruce said.

“Probably the right choice, Banner,” Clint nodded sagely, now back from the kitchen and tossing barbecue chips to himself in the air.

“Okay boys, show us the goods,” Natasha demanded.

“Full house,” Tony announced, laying down a king and a queen.

“Well, you’ve got me there, Tony,” Steve replied. Slowly and deliberately, he turned over his cards to reveal a king and a ten.

A pair of kings? But that was a garbage hand. That meant that Steve –

Steve was reaching down and peeling off his undershirt and sweater in one smooth motion.

“Bad luck, I guess,” he said. And then he gave a shrug that sent an absolutely criminal ripple of movement across his bare chest.

Oh. Oh: that smug, chiseled bastard.

“Deal the cards, Nat,” Tony said, taking care to wet the tips of his fingers with his tongue before he plucked his off the table.

One hand later, Tony was slipping the waist of his pants slowly over his hips. Two hands later, Steve was using more muscles to remove a pair of socks than Tony had known the human body to contain. When Tony retaliated by rolling up his sleeves before peeling off his own socks, Steve ripped his belt off with a speed that made Tony feel like the armor had taken a blow to the head. By the time Tony shimmied his way out of his dress shirt, Bruce had to pretend to bump into the table before Tony remembered there were other people in the room.

“I’m going to head to bed,” Steve said abruptly, tearing his eyes away from Tony’s forearms as he stood up. “Gotta know when your luck has turned.”

“Oh someone’s getting lucky, for sure,” Clint smirked, and then he ducked — almost in time to avoid a projectile potato chip from Natasha.

“Yeah, so I’m just going to…go be over there now,” Tony said, in what he felt was an impressive display of self-possession for someone staring at the retreating ass of Steve Rogers.

“Don’t say I never did anything nice for you, Tony,” Natasha called after him as he scurried out of the room.

He barely made it around the corner and into the hallway before he was being swung around and held against the wall, one of Steve’s hands planted firmly against his chest.

“Took you long enough to get out of that shirt,” Steve growled.

“I could have gotten to the shirt faster if someone weren’t an unrepentant cheater who was dealing from the bottom of the deck – again,” Tony shot back, gripping the loops of Steve’s jeans and pulling their hips together.

“I must have misread your signals then, because I was pretty sure you were interested in what I might do from the bottom,” Steve whispered, his lips teasingly close.

“God, Rogers,” Tony groaned, “how can you be so corny and so hot at the same time? It drives me completely nuts.”

“It does?” Steve asked, the pressure against Tony’s chest lightening as Steve pulled back to search Tony’s face.

“No, Steve,” Tony said patiently, “I just wriggled my hips in front of Clint Fucking Barton because you fill me with incredibly casual, ordinary thoughts. Of course you drive me nuts, you idiot. I’ve been crazy about you for years.”

And that was probably more of a revelation than a race to lose at strip poker merited, but Tony couldn’t regret it, because a totally new expression had bloomed over Steve’s face. As Steve leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, one finger tracing the line of Tony’s jaw, Tony tried to memorize it. Tell: the smile that meant Steve Rogers was happy.

[yes-iamironman]

Only word out of this that isn’t canon is “James” and that really says that Stony is the biggest and greatest ship and I will gladly fight anyone for it.

{credit to @ lovingstony on IG}

[wadey-wilson]

STONY FICS REC LIST

so, it was hard for me to find stony fics that would fit my likes (got used to the quality and style of the larry fics), and i decided to create my own rec list of works that i found or was recommended to, personally enjoyed, and i hope some people will enjoy them, too!

How We Met (42k)

Lost With You (Might Be All I Need) (25k)

many names in history, none of them are ours (43k)

How To Be A Truly Terrible Wingman (12k)

Bullletproof (20k)

Slipping off the Page into Your Hands (68k)

Never Too Late For Love (98k) (read the tags!)

Wait & Sea (53k)

Deep in the Heart of Me (257k)

[universeandhumanstuff]

[meralasan]

your daily dose of smexy stony

[elwenyere]

Decorative Gourd Season

(Happy Halloween, Stony fans!)

With each successive year, the Avengers pumpkin-carving contests had gotten increasingly competitive. Tony supposed he should have seen it coming, really, given the imbalance between their team members’ fine motor skills (literally lethal) and their sense of perspective (practically incompatible with civilian life). Sure, Thor’s attention usually wandered fairly early in the game, from scooping out seeds to refilling everyone’s beer (the man was a hopeless sucker for pumpkin stout). But Steve was an artist, Bruce worked with delicate lab equipment all day, Clint could bulls-eye a gourd from the length of a football field, and Natasha was like a Renaissance sculptor with a blade.

This year, however, Tony was going to win.

“You built a neural network that analyzes squash,” Bruce said flatly, “and you attached it to a laser.”

“I know, right?” Tony grinned, setting his new bot on the kitchen table triumphantly. “It scans the pumpkin wall for structural integrity and irregularities in surface texture, and then it matches the results against a database of classic and contemporary art.”

“That’s cheating,” Clint protested, waving the arrow he’d just been using to pick off the marshmallows lined up across the kitchen island. “We put electricity on the ‘forbidden items’ list after Thor fried half our pumpkins into a pulp trying to carve his with Mjolnir.”

“My apologies again, friends,” Thor beamed at them, tipping an extra pour of New Holland Ichabod into Bruce’s glass. “But the resulting explosion was quite spectacular.”

“Luckily, Barton, little HALL-O here is solar powered,” Tony said, patting the bot, which swiveled one if its laser-equipped arms toward him in response. “So you can all suck it, because tonight I’m going to be drinking the sweet apple cider of victory.”

Clint gave him the finger, and Natasha rolled her eyes. But Steve hummed non-committally in a way that sent off an instant warning bell in Tony’s mind.

“What, Captain Sure-of-Himself, you think you can out-carve a laser trained on the joint collections of the Louvre, the Whitney, and the Shanghai Museum?” Tony asked his boyfriend, eyes narrowing at the smug little twist of Steve’s lips.

“Oh no, Tony,” Steve said seriously, already slicing precise lines down his pumpkin’s surface. “I’m sure I couldn’t possibly create anything as elaborate as that.”

“Then why,” Tony gritted out, “are you smirking?”

“Let’s just say I think I’ve got a shot at the popular vote,” Steve replied affably. And then the bastard winked.

Well, that was absolutely not going to stand. Years earlier, when he and Steve had first started dating, Tony might have succumbed to his weak spot for Steve’s sassy moods. But he had spent weeks preparing for this coup. He whirled back toward his pumpkin, muttering to himself as he got HALL-O set up. He ignored the sly looks Natasha was casting his way every time she peeked over at Steve’s pumpkin. He didn’t even acknowledge Thor’s attempts to push a glass of beer in front of him: Thor’s strategy had become increasingly dependent on getting other people drunk, and Tony was not going to allow any distractions to come between him and the prize (a cardboard crown that read Burger Pumpkin King).

By the time everyone had finished, Tony was already bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet, a perfect rendering of Caravaggio’s “The Calling of Saint Matthew” etched into his pumpkin.

“All right, losers,” Tony said. “Let’s see the runners up.”

Bruce had carved a super nova illuminated with candlelight; Natasha a delicately abstract series of flickering ballerinas; Clint a flock of birds that seemed to wink in and out of flight as the candle guttered; and Thor a somewhat lumpy Jane (again).

Steve held his pumpkin back for last, frowning at it theatrically.

“I don’t know, Tony,” he muttered, his brows knitted together. “I tried my best.”

“Will you just pony up, Rogers?” Tony growled, biting the side of his cheek to keep back the grin that threatened to take over his face whenever Steve put on his “oh shucks” act.

“Why don’t we let you two work this out while we get the movies ready for later?” Natasha said, standing up and giving Thor a firm pat on the shoulder.

“But I want to see!” Clint whined, and Natasha pinched him on the suprascapular nerve. “Oh fuck, Nat! Fine! Jesus. But this means we’re watching Corpse Bride!”

“Steve,” Tony said, as the other Avengers filed out of the kitchen. “Why are our friends leaving us alone with the pumpkins?”

Some actual nervousness seemed to have seeped into Steve’s demeanor. His shoulders had bunched closer to his ears, and his hands were hovering near the sides of his pumpkin. Finally he took a deep breath.

“Tell me what you think, Tony,” he said, and he turned the jack-o-lantern toward him.

In the corner were the cartoony outlines of Iron Man carrying a shield-wielding Captain America. The level of detail was probably pretty impressive, but Tony didn’t notice any of it, because in the center of the pumpkin – in soft, sloping letters – Steve had carved, “will you marry me?”

“Shit,” Tony swore, eyes darting to the spot where Steve had started to sink to one knee. Steve looked up at him with a small, hopeful smile, and Tony reached out to grab his hands and press Steve’s knuckles to his lips. Tony’s hands were shaking, but so were Steve’s, and the smile on Steve’s face was brightening as he held Tony’s eyes.

“You win.”

[yes-iamironman]

We all know the shields on Tony’s armor are there because Steve is not.

That really fucks up my heart.

[spidey-hoco]

i’m not sure how i’ll be able to function after avengers 4 ???

[overclocksaa]

honestly i can’t see anything but steve and tony being steveandtony and their gr8 stealth suits (iron sniper i’m fucking) in avengers #47, red widow who?  winter hulk don’t know her. 

[thxngam]

Happy birthday Steeb! Have some schmoop with your boo :)

"I have another little present for you, soldier," Tony said, tugging his and by extension Steve's hand down to the waistband of his pants and guiding his to dip below the waistband. Tony wasn't wearing a belt for this very reason, everything planned in extension of this tease. He let the pants slip a little, reaching below in a show of readjusting himself with Steve's hand too, letting him feel what was unmistakably lace covering his ass. "Feel that?"

Steve's lips parted in a near-comical look when he tugged at it, swallowing audibly. "You wore-is this-?"

"All for you, Steve," Tony promised lowly. "Just for you. D'you like it?"

Steve, in response, gave a tug that pulled at his semi-hard cock in a way that made Tony almost uncomfortably aware of Steve plastered against his back, his own bulge pressing inconspicuously at the curve of his ass. Tony mewled softly, head tipping back to rest on Steve's shoulder, trying to inhale subtly and not look like he was a minute's way from ripping Steve's clothing off. “Steve?”

Steve's hands dipped below the panty-line in what felt like a response. Tony whimpered softly, crying out. “Ah-!"

"Call Happy," Steve murmured into his ear, making Tony shiver. "And then you're gonna go home, take all this off, and give me a nice show, hm? Is that right, Tony?" He gave a squeeze. Tony squirmed as discreetly as he could. God, the Captain’s voice did something to him.

But it seemed he waited too long because Steve gave a warning little trail between his cheeks and Tony couldn't stop his quiet moan, hurriedly twisting to hide his face in Steve's shoulder. "Yes, Steve," he whispered hastily, basking in Steve’s satisfied rumble, fumbling for his phone and sending a text to Happy with shaky fingers. "Steve-!"

Steve withdrew his fingers and tipped his head up for a chaste kiss. "You're a doll. I’m so lucky to have, you."

Tony smiled secretively into Steve’s shirt. “I’m glad you like it.”

Steve nuzzled his nose, and in a tone that was entirely deceiving for what he was about to say, rumbled against his hair, “I love it. I’ll be sure to show you, baby, especially when you’re screaming on my cock, hm? I think that’ll get the point across. You need time to primp, baby?”

Tony nodded quickly; this was going better than he’d ever imagined.

...

Tony examined himself in the mirror of the closet he’d excused himself to for ‘primping’, unable to stop the entirely unsexy but joyful smile across his face. Steve would love it. The lingerie was made of the softest material he could find for Steve’s avid love of touch and modeled the USO girls in that it had a short little skirt that brushed the bottom of his ass and a crop top that bared his navel and cut off before his arms, the whole ensemble cupping calves and shoulders and thighs in a way that made him feel powerful and showed off his best assets. Steve was possibly the strongest person on the planet and had been strong in the face of dangers that would throw most people into an early grave, but Tony knew Steve’d be mush when Tony stepped out of their closet.

Not to mention that Steve made him feel good; he was sexy and attractive and he was being vulnerable with his man on his birthday. Just two people in love, Tony thought. Nothing left but to see Steve's wide-eyed expression when he came strutting out of his turned their closet. “Steve?” he called quietly so as not to interrupt the dreamlike quality of the night, the culmination of sipping summer drinks and pigging out on comfort food, Steve’s hand on his knee at the restaurant, the sweet way he’d murmured in Tony’s ear all night as they drank from a shared glass of wine. “Are you ready?”

“Come on out, baby,” Steve called back. “Lemme see you.”

Tony smiled and shook himself a little, opening the door and strutting out of the closet, delighting in the way Steve’s mouth parted, Steve’s breathing and the clack of Tony’s heels on the floor (didn’t he mention the heels? Tony was kind of hoping Steve would fuck him with them on, Tony’s feet in the air as he wailed himself hoarse) the only sound in the room. He straddled Steve’s lap, leaning forward to place a delicate peck to Steve’s nose. “Steve?”

Steve startled, jumping, Tony yelping in return, gripping Steve’s shoulders as he nearly went flying from Steve’s lap. Tony stared as Steve turned scarlet. “Steve?!”

Steve laughed nervously, hand coming to run through his own hair, the other hand wrapping around Tony’s waist. “Sorry, sorry, I just-wow. It’s-you look beautiful, baby.”

Tony preened, but this was less of the reaction he wanted; Tony wanted ravishment (heh heh), even as flattering as it was that Steve thought he was beautiful. “Thank you, darling,” he whispered. He pressed his lips against Steve’s. “But-” he ground down, rubbing his ass against the bulge under his lap. “Anything else you feel?”

Steve laughed, grabbing a handful and urging him into a slow grind. “I love it, baby. Might be my most favorite thing you’ve worn.”

“Well that’s good,” Tony panted, rutting his cock up against Steve’s grandpa plaid shirt, whining unconsciously. “Tailored for this, Steve; the fabric is sturdier, so you can be a little rough.”

Steve groaned and dropped his head against Tony's shoulders. "You really did wear it for me, huh?"

“Ah, you’re right, it’s for my mistre-of course it’s for you Steve!” Tony laughed. “Who else would it be for?”

“Yourself?” Steve guessed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Tony smiled. That was so sweet. "Happy birthday, Steve."

Steve made a guttural noise and hastily pressed their mouths together, tongue dipping in for a taste. "You're so good to me, Tony," he murmured against his mouth, leaning back to give him an adoring smile. "So good. I love you."

"I love you too," Tony murmured, wrapping his arm around the back of Steve's neck and interlacing his fingers with the short, soft hairs at the back of his neck. “But I’d love you more if we could get the main event.” He shoved them both backward, and Steve flopped back, hands running up his back, chuckling at his abruptness.

“Main event, huh? What if I want to lick you out till you’re screaming, baby?” Steve’s hands drifted over his chest, over where the reactor laid beneath his top to over his shoulders. “Then what?”

“Well,” Tony sniffed haughtily, screeching when Steve dug his fingers into his-ticklish!-sides, rolling, Steve following and trailing fingers mercilessly against his ribs. “No, no, Steve! Please!”

Steve licked his lips wickedly and lifted a foot. Tony’s eyes widened. “No, no, not my fee-AIEEEE!”

“What d’you say, baby? What d’you gotta say, Tony?”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Please, Steve, c’mon!” Tony begged, going limp against the sheets, chest straining the seams of the top.

“Sorry, doll,” Steve chuckled finally, dropping his foot back to the bed and pressing kisses to Tony’s slack lips in apology.

“Stop,” Tony whined. He already was straining for air after that attack and Steve’s kisses always took his breath away. “No kisses, not after you attacked me-”

“Attacked?” Steve’s lips quirked in a smile.

“Don’t you dare laugh-!”

Steve shushed him, laughing, and Tony seriously considered shoving him off their bed. “Steve,” he whined, sticking his lip out in a pout that Steve thought was adorable. Tony had to agree; he was cute.

“I’m sorry, baby. Let me touch you now?” Steve tilted his head like an excited puppy. “Please?”

Tony softened like butter, melting back against the sheets, fingers itching to touch gold hair, more precious than any chunk of metal that someone could find in a cave or at the bottom of a river. Though, Tony mused, we did find him at the bottom of the ocean. "Make love to me?" Tony asked softly instead of all of the thirty billion things running through his brain. He couldn’t ever possibly vocalize his emotions, that wasn’t ever something he’d been gifted in, but he hoped the heated tangle of limbs and the heart in his actions might express the storm inside his head.

At least, that was his hope. The words ‘I love you’ was only three little words. Messy, fevered touches seemed to do it for both of them. Maybe it was the familiar near-violence that fucking always had or just the heat of warm hands on skin, but they’d always reassured each other with calloused palms and rough fingers. Touch had always been a crucial part of steveandtony.

Steve covered his lips with his fingers, tracing his bottom lip, his face suddenly tender. Tony let him touch. "I'll make love to you, Tones. Tonight," he promised, fingers dipping down to tug at the waistband of the panties and make Tony's breath hitch, "And every night after that."

Steve’s left hand was empty, but Tony imagined the way a ring would catch the light as Steve peeled the panties down his legs.

On AO3 here!

[shellheadtm-a]

to add to that:

1. there’s an underestimation that goes into just how intense steve and tony’s relationship is.  like civil war as civil war would not have been as vicious or as big as it was if it was either of them against someone else.  it’s a unique chemistry that sparks that off that’s completely and utterly steveandtony.  like...their marriage in one universe stops it (looks pointedly at marble, you fucking cowards).  in universes where one or the other is dead it doesn’t happen.  where they’re both otherwise removed from the playing field it doesn’t happen.  it had to be steveandtony, and it had to be them at odds with one another.  if they’d had chances to actually talk before, you know, maria hill opened fire on steve (and if tony hadn’t hidden it away and been open and honest with steve), then...you know.  maybe.  there’s a reason there was at least one possible future where they worked it out.

2. i love steven rogers with my whole ass heart but he’s kind of an asshole sometimes and buys his own bullshit a lot.  people have him on a pedestal and forget he’s human and fucks up, too.  like he’s Good with a capital Good and he’s a genius tactician, but he’s also fallible.  it’s why there’s no right side in civil war, because in the end what was going on between steveandtony was hurt between steveandtony and in reality had fuck all to do with the legislation.  they were mad at each other.  and they both almost brought the whole damn community with them.

[meralasan]

MY POOR HEART

Can I offer you some happy Steve and Tony Tattoo AU in this trying time?

Inspired by vintage 40s Illustration and Jac Mars.

[meralasan]

stonystonystonystonyyyyyy- just something I’ve had in my head for a really long time based on a scene from Friends (sorry for the crappy looking text, I was too tired to write it all by hand)

[yes-iamironman]

Stony

[aslightstep]

If you want a really good pining!Tony fic: "We'll Always Have Paris" by missbecky. Warning: this one does not have a happy, shippy ending.

I have read that one. It’s so delightfully depressing! I always thought the ending, while sad, had a sparkle of hope in it, not for SteveandTony, but for Tony moving on and developing a friendship with him though.

[kippleandpelf]

Just Pinned to MARVEL COMICS: Iron Man & Cap Necklace! ~ Made From Actual Comic Book ~ Captain America Steve Rogers Tony Stark Marvel Jewelry https://etsy.me/2KEeB0k #comicbooks #marvel #marvelcomics #stony #steveandtony #superhusbands #kippleandpelf https://ift.tt/2z4t1FH