Call me a safe bet, I'm betting I'm not
Title: Call me a safe bet, I'm betting I'm not
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: past Pepper/Tony, Steve/Tony
Rating: NSFW
Warning: omegaverse, Dom/sub, subspace/subdrop, emotional pain
Wordcount: 538
Note: partecipa a #WRPG @ maridichallenge per i prompt "disciplina" e "autostima".
Summary: Pepper went looking for him one night, and she found him elbow-deep in pieces of the thirty-fifth suit of Iron Man armor, when she had told him not to do it, and by the time she had stopped yelling he was shaking so hard he couldn't hold his screwdriver anymore.
He had been staying in the same position for what it felt like hours, and he was pretty sure that his kneecaps were going to fall out as soon as he got up, but he wasn't going to fuck up. Not this.
He still remembered Pepper's expression when she realized that he was broken, that he couldn't be the kind of sub that she wanted, five days before their messy, painful breakup. When they were together she had said that it wouldn't matter, even if Tony couldn't submit all the time. All omegas were different. They were going to make it work.
But it didn't work. Tony was having nightmares, he was scared of sleeping, he couldn't stop working.
Pepper went looking for him one night, and she found him elbow-deep in pieces of the thirty-fifth suit of Iron Man armor, when she had told him not to do it, and by the time she had stopped yelling he was shaking so hard he couldn't hold his screwdriver anymore.
The guilt had been so thick in his mouth he thought he was going to choke on it. He didn't mean to disobey, he was just trying to get the void out of his mind, but before he could explain Pepper was giving him That Look, the one that said What Am I Going To Do With You, and Tony knew that it was over.
And then Steve.
Steve who got him a donut or a cheeseburger when he didn't want to come out from his workshop. Steve who sat on the couch behind Tony's workstation to draw, quiet and safe. Steve who got the hell out of Tony safe spaces when he smelled his heat coming on, and asked JARVIS if Tony needed anything. Steve who quietly murmured "good boy" petting his hair when Tony was falling asleep against his shoulder while they were watching a movie.
He couldn't fuck it up, with Steve.
Tony knew that he wasn't good enough, but he desperately wanted Steve to love him.
The kneeling and the waiting was supposed to put him into subspace, but it never did it, for him. Every single muscle in his body wanted him to move. Every fiber of him was screaming, telling him to just get up and put another screw in his last suit, because that was the only thing that could protect him for real, because Steve had left, and he wasn't coming back.
But Tony could be good. For once. He could make Steve proud.
He was breaking in a million pieces, his shame and his pain trickling out of him like liquid fire, when he heard steps coming closer. He almost choked on a sob when Steve's shoes came into view.
"Oh, Tony," breathed Steve while he scooped Tony in his arms, perfect, beautiful, solid warmth against his body.
And Tony was hurting everywhere, he wanted to cry and to sleep, but he didn't want to fall asleep because he wouldn't listen to Steve praises then, and his voice was like water for a man who was dying of thirst- and Tony was happy and full of light, and didn't know which way was up, but everything, for once, was going to be fine.
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: past Pepper/Tony, Steve/Tony
Rating: NSFW
Warning: omegaverse, Dom/sub, subspace/subdrop, emotional pain
Wordcount: 538
Note: partecipa a #WRPG @ maridichallenge per i prompt "disciplina" e "autostima".
Summary: Pepper went looking for him one night, and she found him elbow-deep in pieces of the thirty-fifth suit of Iron Man armor, when she had told him not to do it, and by the time she had stopped yelling he was shaking so hard he couldn't hold his screwdriver anymore.
He had been staying in the same position for what it felt like hours, and he was pretty sure that his kneecaps were going to fall out as soon as he got up, but he wasn't going to fuck up. Not this.
He still remembered Pepper's expression when she realized that he was broken, that he couldn't be the kind of sub that she wanted, five days before their messy, painful breakup. When they were together she had said that it wouldn't matter, even if Tony couldn't submit all the time. All omegas were different. They were going to make it work.
But it didn't work. Tony was having nightmares, he was scared of sleeping, he couldn't stop working.
Pepper went looking for him one night, and she found him elbow-deep in pieces of the thirty-fifth suit of Iron Man armor, when she had told him not to do it, and by the time she had stopped yelling he was shaking so hard he couldn't hold his screwdriver anymore.
The guilt had been so thick in his mouth he thought he was going to choke on it. He didn't mean to disobey, he was just trying to get the void out of his mind, but before he could explain Pepper was giving him That Look, the one that said What Am I Going To Do With You, and Tony knew that it was over.
And then Steve.
Steve who got him a donut or a cheeseburger when he didn't want to come out from his workshop. Steve who sat on the couch behind Tony's workstation to draw, quiet and safe. Steve who got the hell out of Tony safe spaces when he smelled his heat coming on, and asked JARVIS if Tony needed anything. Steve who quietly murmured "good boy" petting his hair when Tony was falling asleep against his shoulder while they were watching a movie.
He couldn't fuck it up, with Steve.
Tony knew that he wasn't good enough, but he desperately wanted Steve to love him.
The kneeling and the waiting was supposed to put him into subspace, but it never did it, for him. Every single muscle in his body wanted him to move. Every fiber of him was screaming, telling him to just get up and put another screw in his last suit, because that was the only thing that could protect him for real, because Steve had left, and he wasn't coming back.
But Tony could be good. For once. He could make Steve proud.
He was breaking in a million pieces, his shame and his pain trickling out of him like liquid fire, when he heard steps coming closer. He almost choked on a sob when Steve's shoes came into view.
"Oh, Tony," breathed Steve while he scooped Tony in his arms, perfect, beautiful, solid warmth against his body.
And Tony was hurting everywhere, he wanted to cry and to sleep, but he didn't want to fall asleep because he wouldn't listen to Steve praises then, and his voice was like water for a man who was dying of thirst- and Tony was happy and full of light, and didn't know which way was up, but everything, for once, was going to be fine.